Whats in a Name?
The Future of Post-Denominational Judaism
By Rachel Rosenthal
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Twenty years ago, if you walked into any Catskill comedy show you’d be guaranteed to hear some variant of this joke—“An Orthodox, a Conservative, and a Reform rabbi are each asked if you can recite a barakha (blessing) over lobster. The Conservative rabbi does not know what to say. The Orthodox rabbi doesn’t know what a “lobster” is. The Reform rabbi doesn’t know what a barakha is.” Today, this joke would need one more category—the post-denominational Jew.
The post-denominational Jew is everywhere. He or she (or zhe!) is studying for ordination at the Hebrew College in Boston, praying at Kehillat Hadar in Manhattan, or attending a four-day retreat on Judaism at LimmudNY1. The post-denominational Jew refuses to be labeled or categorized in a religion that thrives on stereotypes. He has seen what the institutional branches of Judaism have to offer and believes that a better Judaism can be created. The post-denominational Jew is hip, modern, and an individual.
But is post-denominationalism so radically different from what existed before? Is the post-denominational Jew the future of American Judaism? Post-denominational communities face many of the same challenges as denominational communities—the possibility of becoming overly rigid, the challenges of developing communal customs, and the inevitable need to determine boundaries of insider and outsider. It runs the risk of becoming everything it eschews. Post-denominationalism, then, can best be a transforming force through its impact on how individuals think, rather than how they affiliate.
Denominationalism is at the heart of the American understanding of Judaism. Although Reform, Orthodox and Conservative Judaism all have their roots in 19th century Europe, they have become distinct and defining units among American Jews in a way that has not been duplicated anywhere else in the world. While post-denominationalism has become prevalent only in the last ten years or so, its roots lie in the evolving American Jewish experience. Therefore, it is important to understand the basic philosophy of each of the three major movements in America to understand why post-denominationalism has emerged as a response to pre-existing structures.
Reform Judaism, currently the largest movement in America, has been a major force throughout the history of American Judaism. In 1885, a conference of Reform rabbis convened and subsequently published the Pittsburgh Platform, which asserted that “we accept as binding only [the Torah’s] moral laws, and maintain only such ceremonies as elevate and sanctify our lives, but reject all such as are not adapted to the views and habits of modern civilization.”2 To this end, Reform Judaism dramatically altered traditional conceptions of Jewish commitment and obligation, changing most of the prayer service to English, forbidding ritual objects like the tallit (prayer shawl) and the kippah (head covering) in their services, declaring kashrut (the Jewish dietary laws) to be antiquated, and in some more extreme cases, moving the Sabbath to Sundays. Although the Reform movement has begun to move back towards more traditional Jewish practices, it still does not believe that halakha (Jewish law) is binding beyond its moral codes and precepts. The movement is defined more than anything else by its commitment to social action.
In contrast to the Reform movement, Orthodox Judaism is primarily characterized by its commitment to halakha. Although Orthodoxy was actually founded as a reaction to Reform Judaism, its members practice in a way that is tied most closely to the way that Jews have been practicing since the beginning of the Rabbinic Period in the second century. While the Reform movement has tried to fit Judaism into the framework of modernity, Orthodoxy has sometimes sacrificed the secular world on behalf of Judaism. However, there is no single way to classify the degree to which this has occurred. All of the denominations have a range of philosophies, but Orthodoxy might have the greatest spectrum of all. The Orthodox spectrum ranges from Haredim (ultra-Orthodox Jews) who live in exclusively Jewish communities, speak Yiddish, and refuse all forms of secular education, to the Modern Orthodox, who are integrated into the secular world as they strive to create a balance between modernity and commitment to a traditional Jewish lifestyle. The lack of consensus within the Orthodox movement makes it hard to evaluate it as a single unit, but all factions of the movement share a commitment to keeping halakha and performing mitzvot (commandments).
The Conservative movement, which is often seen as a middle ground between Reform and Orthodox, is the hardest to define, in part because there is a general feeling that the movement has lost its vision. The Conservative movement was founded on a commitment to tradition and change, or a desire to synthesize halakha with the modern world. Although Conservative Judaism has made some significant changes to halakha, especially when defining the woman’s role in the community, it always does so through responsa that outline the halakhic issues and that argue that there is room for change within that halakhic framework. However, the Conservative movement currently lacks a clearly articulated vision and consequently, many people who call themselves Conservative Jews do not really know what it means to be Conservative. Jack Wertheimer, the provost of the Jewish Theological Seminary, writes that “it remains to be seen whether the Conservative movement will rally to become once again a ‘third way’ in Jewish religious life, will fracture, or will be absorbed into the camp of Liberal Judaism.”3 In many ways, the answer to these questions and the future of the Conservative movement may determine the future structure and role of denominations in American Judaism.
In addition to the three main denominations, there is also Reconstructionist Judaism. The movement was founded by Mordechai Kaplan in the twentieth century. Kaplan claimed that God is the sum of all natural processes that allow man to become self-fulfilled. The most important distinction between Reconstructionist Judaism and traditional Judaism is that Reconstructionism feels that all of halakha should be categorized as “folkways,” and not as law.
Jewish observance is often viewed as a spectrum—those who are the least observant of halakha are often defined as Reform, while those who are the most stringent in their observance are called Orthodox. Simultaneously, many Jews determine their movement affiliation based on the synagogue to which they belong, rather than by the philosophy in which they believe. However, the spectrum of observance is disingenuous and not particularly accurate. In contemporary American society, “[The term] ‘Conservative’ rarely articulated the positive historical approach to Jewish law that its official doctrine posited. Few ‘Reform’ Jews could articulate the idea of ‘progressive revelation’ that was meant to ground the approach of its adherents. Instead, the labels became dumbed down.”4 The spectrum of observance within each of the denominations challenges this sliding scale. Although they may be considered deviant within the major movement structure, there are Jews who are traditionally observant who connect with Reform philosophy, just as there are Jews who affiliate with Orthodox synagogues who are not strict about keeping halakha. This distinction causes Marc Raphael to argue that “it is more helpful to imagine some geometrical forms, rather than a straight line, in trying to characterize and classify the behavior of Jews in America.”5 It is debatable whether movements should be defined based on their ideals or based on the actual beliefs and practices of those within them. Either way, labels (in theory) provide a basic philosophical framework for understanding the “other,” but they are rarely accurate for understanding people’s beliefs or practices. Avoiding a religious spectrum is a more honest way to look at American Judaism; it also adds a certain degree of complexity that is not easily interpreted. Post-denominationalism is, in many ways, a response to these problems and inconsistencies—rather than defining Jews by labels that do not actually apply, it allows for a more fluid understanding of what it means to be Jewish.
While it seems inevitable that the movement structures will continue to be the most prevalent way that American Jews understand and define their own and others’ Judaism, post-denominational thinking is having a marked impact. Recently, a growing number of Jewish institutions have turned their attention to or have been founded on principles of pluralism in defiance of these divisions. Examples of this are the women’s learning center, Drisha, which defines itself as nondenominational, and the yearly conference of Jewish learning, ‘Limmud,’ which centers on pluralism. However, the ideals of post-denominationalism and its corresponding communities are not always reconcilable with its realities. The structure of Judaism demands some sort of boundary of ‘what is a Jew,’ thus creating an insider-outsider division. Even a community that is truly pluralistic cannot have a place for everyone. The challenge of creating inclusive exclusivity is one facing all communities striving to live by pluralistic values.
The challenges created by the pluralistic model mean that pluralism often becomes a buzzword, instead of a principle that people can effectively apply to their lives and their communities. It is easy for Jews to come together and talk about their shared values of tikkun olam (repairing the world) and Talmud Torah (Jewish learning.) The real challenge arises when these communities inevitably realize that the ways that they define and act on these terms can be dramatically different. Wertheimer points out that “despite all the positive rhetoric and cooperative programming, the religious leaders of the various movements speak very different languages and employ entirely different categories of religious discourse.”6 When it comes down to it Jews sometimes have nothing in common beyond the label of ‘Jew.’ Overcoming these differences does not mean hiding from them; it requires acknowledgement and then genuine open dialogue, something which is incredibly difficult to create. Post-denominationalism can be a solution to these challenges, but only if its communities are genuinely different from those that have been established within movements. Although the new minyanim (prayer congregations) sometimes rise to these challenges, in other cases, they end up mirroring the communities their founders sought to escape.
Even as the phenomenon of post-denominationalism grows among individuals and institutions, it is more difficult to assess the shift’s effect on the Orthodox movement. Since Orthodoxy views obligation and halakha in a stricter way, it is harder for Jews who subscribe to Orthodox practices to join post-denominational communities, even if they share a post-denominational mentality. There is a wide spectrum of views about whether or not the Orthodox should mix with Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist and “just Jewish” Jews. Within the right wing of Orthodoxy, the argument has been made that “as long as innocent Jews are misled into accepting that [there are multiple ways to understand and interpret the Torah], knowledgeable, sensitive and principled Jews must conscientiously refuse to be party to this lie.”7 At the same time, certain organizations have used post-denominational learning environments as an opportunity to do outreach and bring Jews to Orthodoxy, which means that “in some instances, then, the language of post-denominationalism may be lip service more than anything else.”8 These organizations welcome Jews from across the religious and educational spectrum, creating non-denominational environments almost incidentally. Whether or not the institutions are successful at doing outreach, they are creating a diverse and unusual model for traditional Jewish learning.
However, neither isolationism nor outreach should be seen as the sole Orthodox response to Judaism beyond denominations. Orthodox rabbis like Avi Weiss and Irving Greenberg have been leading voices for pluralism, if not for more flexible denominational structures. Simultaneously, on a grassroots level, some Modern Orthodox Jews are finding their places among the unaffiliated minyanim, especially those with separate seating and more traditional gender roles. Nevertheless, Orthodoxy has been more on the periphery of the post-denominational phenomenon, both because of the community’s move to the right and because it is more difficult for those who subscribe to Orthodox practice and theology to be flexible with halakhic changes.
Many have drawn the connection between the troubles of the Conservative movement and the growth of post-denominational communities. Since it is probable that “the Conservative movement has… produced most of the major advocates of post-denominationalism…. in an effort to bring together Jews of many outlooks under the same roof,”9 the desire to move away from denominationalism does not bode well for the future of the Conservative movement. Instead, the growing interest in Judaism beyond denominations within the Conservative community is “symptomatic of a declining will to stake out and insist upon the correctness of the Conservative position.”10 Indeed, Steven Cohen, the director of the Melton Centre for Jewish Education at Hebrew University, argues that these Jews are “post-Conservative” more than anything else and that “the several innovative and vibrant institutions they have founded at late speak to new signs of vitality and creativity in Jewish life, albeit often at the expense of the Conservative Movement.”11
Boundaries become increasingly relevant as it becomes clear that post-denominationalism’s roots are intimately connected with the Conservative movement. Conservative Judaism has often been understood as a middle ground between Orthodox and Reform; its commitment to halakha mirrors traditional, or Orthodox, Judaism, while its desire to integrate into the modern secular world is linked to Reform. This middle-of-the-road approach explains why Conservative Judaism was, for so long, the most popular movement in America. However, as the feeling that Conservative Judaism has lost its way grows, many unaffiliated minyanim are filling the void by creating communities that often reflect the philosophies of the Conservative movement. When communities define themselves as “traditional egalitarian,” they are often subscribing (even if indirectly) to the actual values of Conservative Judaism. This reality presents a challenge to Jews coming from non-Conservative backgrounds. Although there is no official affiliation, post-denominational communities are often closely linked with Conservative or post-Conservative philosophies. In this way, post-denominationalism begins to resemble a less cohesive, less defined renewal of the Conservative movement, sometimes to the detriment of those with different religious values, theologies, or practices.
The challenge created by the connection between post-Conservativism and post-denominationalism begs the question of why it is important to create communities outside of these lines. There are few kinds of Jewish practice that can be created that do not already exist in one form or another within a movement structure. Although movements can be limiting and have the potential to create divisiveness, it is important to acknowledge that there is a reason that denominational structures have been so effective for American Jewry. A certain amount of definition and compartmentalization of sub-groups is necessary to create more cohesive communities. Since the only thing that many Jews have in common with each other is that they are Jewish, what that means to them and how they act can look completely different. While the appeal of somehow unifying different kinds of Jews in a substantial way is obvious, the reality is that sometimes bringing people together can do more harm than good to the greater Jewish community. Often, the need to cater to those who are strictest about halakha creates resentment among those who are not observant in the same way. Similar limitations apply to creating prayer communities—decisions about mixed and separate seating; counting or not counting women; and how traditional the service will be indirectly dictate the make-up of the community. When people have directly conflicting views about what it means to pray or eat or celebrate or study as a Jew, it is not possible to reconcile both opinions within a single community. This is why unaffiliated communities, which often start with the noblest of intentions and the highest of ideals, do not always end up being so different from other motivated and involved Jewish communities. Since unaffiliated communities fit so easily into existing structures, it is difficult to say how much impact post-denominational thinking will have on American Judaism as a whole.
Post-denominationalism is a challenge to the movements that it rejects, but it is a phenomenon that may ultimately strengthen all three major movements as well. Sharon Brous, the founding rabbi of Ikar, an independent minyan in Los Angeles, talks about the importance of creating “a Jewish community of passion, integrity and authenticity, one that takes the tradition as seriously as it does the mandate to innovate and progress and vice versa. Moving beyond the labels forces a more careful articulation of what a community is really about.”12 Movements can be used as shields to prevent change and challenges. Too many Jewish leaders have shied away from confronting serious issues because they did not fit into the spectrum of their movements’ philosophies or agendas. Therefore, Brous issues a challenge to “every movement professional… to omit the movement label from our lexicon for an entire year, just to see what happens when we’re forced to express what we actually believe in instead of which movement we affiliate with. [It is her] suspicion that the language of denominational affiliation is a great distraction from the holy work of the Jewish community.”13 Interestingly, Ikar is considering affiliating with the Conservative movement, but to Brous, that is beside the point in terms of what it means to be part of a Jewish community. Her call will likely go unanswered, but if communities find the strength to take her challenge, they will ultimately be able to provide their adherents with a stronger, more coherent vision of what it means to be Jewish within a pre-established framework.
Judaism is a religion of community; there are limits on what people can do solely as individuals. By nature, every Jewish community, just like all other communities, is somehow exclusive. Even if boundaries aren’t applied directly, standards ensure that some will be left outside of the group. This is true for movements, but also for individual synagogues and for unaffiliated or post-denominational communities. Just as a Jew who calls himself Reform, Conservative, or Orthodox may base those labels more on his synagogue’s philosophy than on his movement’s, Jews who consider themselves members of unaffiliated minyanim similarly subscribe to the values of their communities. Although many communities emphasize the value of klal Yisrael (being part of, and responsible for, the universal Jewish community), it is rare that Jews from genuinely different backgrounds and with genuinely different customs come together to be Jewish. It is not possible to create a community that encompasses values of universal Judaism because the ways that different movements define themselves are sometimes mutually exclusive. Therefore, just as movement communities inevitably encounter philosophical or practical boundaries, unaffiliated communities cannot avoid similar challenges, even when those boundaries are not as clearly or explicitly defined.
The explosion of pluralistic programming over the last ten to fifteen years has been, at least in part, a reaction to the Jewish community’s desire to find new, deeper, and more challenging ways to be Jewish. However, for a complete Jewish experience, many would argue that religious observance must somehow be considered. If post-denominationalism is to become a more widespread phenomenon beyond such a select and specific group of Jews, it will have to provide an answer to the question of why it is important for Jews to find meaningful ways to be Jewish together. If communal activities, which are meant to build bridges and create understanding between different kinds of Jews, have the potential to cause more tension and ill will than good, is pursuing them really worthwhile? In many ways, this is the question at the heart of post-denominationalism. It is its greatest challenge, and also has the potential to be its greatest accomplishment. In order for Jews to learn to have meaningful (and challenging) experiences with other Jews, they will have to think in a post-denominational way. However, until larger numbers of people think beyond denominational categories, Judaism beyond denominations will continue to run the risk of being detrimental to the cause of klal Yisrael.
It is not easy to find a community that is genuinely committed to espousing these values of pluralism and openness. As post-denominational or non-denominational Jews become more common, there is hope that their philosophies will spread to existing institutions as well. The value that can be derived from post-denominational thinking comes less in the form of minyanim and study groups than in the shifting perceptions of how people define themselves and others. Even as Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, Reconstructionist, and unaffiliated communities continue to exist, post-denominationalism has the potential to allow Jews to see each other as the same more than as different. American Judaism will not be able to move away from movements any time in the near future, if at all, if for no other reason than because movement structures allow for more cohesive sub-communities. However, a new kind of thinking within these communities will allow boundaries to become more flexible, empowering a new generation of Jews to create connections and bonds beyond existing limitations.
In theory, post-denominationalism is supposed to form communities that are less confining than traditional movement institutions. Since post-denominational Judaism lacks an established theology, philosophy, or stance on halakha, its communities and adherents should be able to participate in a more fluid, less restraining form of Judaism. In some ways, being post-denominational is more about negating existing standards of Judaism than about defining new communal standards. However, it is unclear if it is possible to build communities according to this model. No Jewish community, especially one built around prayer, can exist without some articulation of values, even if those values include diversity, a commitment to being open to difference, and pluralism. Unaffiliated minyanim need to develop customs and practices of their own just like any other synagogue; by virtue of choosing a certain prayer style, others are automatically excluded.
Post-denominationalism is probably not the solution to the problems facing American Jewry, at least not at an institutional level. If it were to be approached solely (or even primarily) institutionally, post-denominational or unaffiliated communities would run the risk of becoming a movement of their own, thus perpetuating the problems that already exist. At the same time, it is important to draw a distinction between post-denominational communities and post-denominational individuals. It may not be possible to create communities that truly deviate from movement lines, mostly because the spectrum of American Jewish practice and philosophy is so great that it is difficult to create something that does not already exist. The value of post-denominationalism, then, comes from the cultivation of leaders who think beyond movement lines. Some have argued that the Jewish community would be better served if these passionate leaders who want to create change in Judaism would do so from within the existing framework, rather than rejecting existing structures and creating a community of those who think similarly. Post-denominational individuals have the power to reinvigorate and shape American Judaism as it is now, or they can be responsible for the drain of Judaism’s most committed and brightest young adherents. It takes a lot more time and effort to create change within an institution than it does to start something new. American Judaism may be best served if post-denominational Jews take their place among those who are denominationally inclined and help show others the value of thinking beyond those walls and boundaries.
Rachel Rosenthal is a senior Religious Studies major and English minor. She currently runs the Jewish Life sector of the University of Pennsylvania Hillel.
Notes
1. Hebrew College and LimmudNY define themselves as trans-denominational.
2. “The Pittsburgh Platform” quoted in Jacob Rader Marcus, ed. The Jew in the American World (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1996), 242.
3. Jack Wertheimer, “All Quiet on the Religious Front? Jewish Unity, Denominationalism, and Postdenominationalism in the United States” (policy paper, The American Jewish Committee, 2005) 22.
4. Leon Morris, “Beyond, or Mixing, Denominations,” The Jewish Week, March 6, 2003, www.thejewishweek.com (accessed October 9, 2005)
5. Marc Lee Raphael, “Reform, Conservative, and Orthodox Judaism in America: Is There an Alternative to Denonimationalism?” quoted in Robert Bruce Mullin and Russel E. Richey, eds. Reimagining Denominationalism: Interpretive Essays, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 236.
6. Ibid., 23.
7. Avi Shafran, “The Dangers of Diversity,” The Jewish Week, August 18, 2000, www.thejewishweek.com (accessed October 9, 2005)
8. Wertheimer, 14.
9. Wertheimer, 11.
10. Ibid., 12.
11. Steven M. Cohen, “Non-Denominationalism and Post-Denominationalism: Two Tendencies and American Jewry,” Contact 7, no. 4 (2005): 7.
12. Sharon Brous, “Moving Beyond the Labels,” Contact 7, no. 4 (2005): 11.
13. Ibid., 12.