By Susan Esther Barnes
On Thursday last week I was browsing a few blog posts I came across on
JRants, and I chose to make a comment on a post on an Orthodox Jewish blog that said some things about Reform Judaism about which I disagreed. The author responded, I made a clarification and an additional comment, and suddenly things took a turn for the surreal when he declared me to be “an amazing human being” and stated his intention to write a post inspired by me.
True to his word, the next day he published a post titled,
“Susan.” I have to say, I was a little apprehensive about reading the post. In our prejudice, we in the Reform community sometimes expect contempt from the Orthodox, but this was not the case. The post and the many comments after it were all gracious and respectful.
It starts, “From tragedy there is sometimes greatness. The tragedy is intermarriage. The greatness is that it produced a person like Susan.”
At first, I was flattered. After only a brief online exchange, he had concluded that I am amazing and great. Pretty cool. It wasn’t until that evening that I realized what a backhanded compliment it was. After all, in these same three sentences he did manage to say that the marriage of my father to my mother was a tragedy. It eventually occurred to me that one might take this as an insult.
I realized this potential insult had no emotional impact on me not only because the blog’s author clearly didn’t intend to insult me, but because his assertion that intermarriage is a tragedy is one I automatically dismiss as simply a difference of opinion. If I were to list the largest tragedies to befall the Jewish people over the last 100 years, intermarriage would not even be in the running.
I suspect part of this comes from our different experiences of intermarriage. If an Orthodox Jew marries a non-Jew, it is a tragedy. It becomes a tragedy because the Orthodox Jew is shunned by his or her community. If the Jew who intermarries is a man, his daughter is not considered to be Jewish, even if, as the author states in his blog, she goes to synagogue every week. Thus, the number of Jews is diminished and sincere people who want to be part of the Jewish community are rejected.
On the other hand, if a Reform Jew intermarries, he or she may remain part of the Jewish community, and his or her children, if raised as Jews, are also considered to be Jews. Thus, there is no tragedy.
The author assumes on his blog that the reason Reform Jews decided to welcome as Jewish children of patrilinial descent was “to stop the hemorrhaging.” It does not seem to occur to him that it was done out of compassion, out of righteousness, out of the recognition that it is wrong to cast someone out because they fell in love with the “wrong” person or through an accident of birth.
There is an assumption among the Orthodox that any Jew who marries outside the faith is lost to Judaism. In my experience, the opposite is true. We have many committed Jewish families in which one parent is Jewish and their children are Jewish. I even know several couples in which the non-Jewish spouse eventually converted to Judaism. It is a blessing, not a tragedy.
I then came to suspect that the author’s expression of admiration toward me, and his invitation to me to explore Orthodoxy, were not actually flattering at all. What he seems to appreciate about me is my sincerity about Judaism and my desire to follow mitzvot (commandments). I suspect he is inspired by me because he thinks that, surrounded by the secular and the uncommitted, I have somehow found a desire to be serious and to commit.
So here is the thing I suspect some Orthodox Jews may find hard to believe, but it is true. Reform Judaism is not “Judaism Lite.” Yes, there are many unaffiliated secular Jews. I would suggest they are unaffiliated, not Reform. There are also many affiliated Jews who would not call themselves religious, and who only go to synagogue on Yom Kippur. There are Jews who intermarry. Reform Judaism holds the door open to all of these people, and encourages them to find a deeper spiritual path.
But among the backbone of the Reform Jewish community, I am neither the most committed nor am I unique. Reform Judaism provides a deep, meaningful Jewish experience, including meaningful prayer, serious study, and the observance of mitzvot. Without this, there would not be enough money to support the many Reform congregations in this country. Without this, nobody in their right mind would want to become a member of the Reform clergy.
In his blog, the author suggests I convert to Orthodoxy so I can be acknowledged as Jewish by all Jews, rather than just a subset of Jews. He correctly surmises that I would like to be recognized as Jewish by everyone.
What he does not seem to realize is that recognition as a Jew is not what motivates me. What has motivated me, ever since I first heard the word “God” as a child, is the desire to have a close relationship with God. As a Reform Jew, I have exactly that. As an Orthodox Jew I would not, because the Orthodox hold several important beliefs with which I strongly disagree. As an Orthodox Jew I would need to do things I believe to be morally wrong, and as such I would be distancing myself from God.
So the Orthodox follow one set of rules, and the Reform Jews follow another. Who is right? It reminds me of a story about the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel, two Jewish houses of learning which often disagreed with each other on points of law. In this story, they appeal to Heaven to tell them which one is right. The answer is that the House of Shammai is right and the House of Hillel is also right.
How can this be? I suggest that the path is not the same for everyone. If Orthodoxy brings you closer to God, it is right for you. If Orthodoxy doesn’t work for you but Reform Judaism brings you closer to God, then that is where you should be. If you’re not religious or some other religion works for you, go for it. None of us holds ultimate truth in our pocket. The best we can do is to sincerely explore what we believe to be right, and to courageously follow our convictions.
As we sang on Shabbat evening after services at a gathering in a congregant’s home as I was pondering all this,
Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od
V’ha-ikkar lo l’faheid k’lalThe whole world is a narrow bridge
And the essential thing is not to fear at all
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