PARASHAT VAYIGASH – JEWISH UNITY
DECEMBER 26, 2009

This morning’s Torah portion offers several avenues for reflection. One is Joseph’s actions as Pharaoh’s chief minister during the seven years of famine. Another is the descent of Jacob to Egypt. The haftarah, from the Book of Ezekiel, reinforces the theme that may first come to our minds (if only because it comes first in the Torah portion), the reunion of Joseph and his brothers. Ezekiel said, “Thus said the Lord God: I am going to take the stick of Joseph – which is in the hand of Ephraim – and of the tribes of Israel associated with him, and I will place the stick of Judah upon it and make them into one stick; they shall be joined in My hand … I will make them a single nation in the land, on the hills of Israel, and one king shall be king of them all. Never again shall they be two nations, and never again shall they be divided into two kingdoms.”

Ezekiel’s specific reference was to the division of the kingdom from the time of Reheboam, the son of King Solomon, into a northern Kingdom of Israel, which lasted two hundred years until it was destroyed by the Assyrians, and a southern Kingdom of Judah, which lasted over three hundred years, until it was destroyed by the Babylonians.

This theme comes to us in the form of the value of Jewish unity, to which people often appeal. Certainly, it is a real value. The Midrash Mekhilta, noting a grammatical peculiarity in the Torah’s account of the people of Israel’s arrival at Mt. Sinai, said that they had been riven by disagreement until that time, and, only when they were united were they worthy to receive the Torah. Yet, the matter is complex (Of course!) Let’s consider three different examples of Jewish unity or disunity.

The first is mostly of historical interest. When in the 18th century, the Hasidic movement began in Eastern Europe, many Jews joined it – many, but not all. The Hasidim and their opponents, called, Mitnagdim, literally, “opponents”, engaged in fierce struggles. Eliyahu, the Gaon of Vilna, one of the most illustrious of the Mitnagdim, ordered some Hasidic books burnt, and, when he died, Hasidim celebrated. The different parties also enlisted the Russian government in their conflict, a risky and especially problematic move. In the course of time, the conflict between Hasidim and Mitnagdim softened, and both groups of Orthodox Jews were threatened by modernism.

Yet, even today, the conflict appears in different places. Although the Torah says that we should include a blue thread in our tzitzit, most Jews have not done so, because it has been believed that the specific dye required for the performance of the mitzvah of tekhelet, the blue thread, can no longer be produced. However, in the last century or so, two different groups of people have proposed two different formulae for tekhelet. As it happens, one was Hasidic and the other Mitnagdic, and proponents of one formula often disparage the proponents of the other. (In case you don’t know where I stand, this is misnagdish tekhelet, and the knots in the tzitzit are tied according to the opinion of the Vilna Gaon) In Israel, there is conflict between some Hasidim and some Mitnagdim over the allocation of government funds to faith-based institutions.

A more significant issue of Jewish unity, or the lack of it, today, focuses on Israel and the Diaspora. Several studies have shown a growing distance between American Jews and Israel. The most notable recent one, by the eminent sociologists Stephen M. Cohen and Ari Kelman, found a significant decline in feelings of attachment to Israel among younger American Jews. They measured different aspects of attachment to Israel, and, using their composite measure of attachment, 80% of American Jews 65 or older were highly or moderately attached to Israel. Among Jews under 35, less than 60% had such attachment; over 40% had low attachment to Israel.

This phenomenon is certainly worrisome, but I would add that the distance extends in two directions. Some studies have also shown that younger Israelis are more likely to think of themselves as Israeli than as Jewish, distancing themselves from Diaspora Jews.

People have offered different explanations of this distancing. Some have related it to political concerns – either to condemn liberals for abandoning Israel, or to criticize Israel for pursuing policies which disturb people of more liberal political views. In fact, Cohen and Kelman found that the generational difference was much more significant than political views in predicting attachment to Israel. They suggested that the key to understanding the distancing of younger American Jews from Israel is intermarriage – not that intermarriage in itself leads to such distancing, but that the emphasis on the individual and the heavy involvement with American life which lead to high rates of intermarriage also lead people to be less concerned about Israel.

I agree with Cohen and Kelman’s analysis on that point. I would add two comments. It is well-known that this distancing does not occur among Orthodox Jews (except for the non-Zionist and anti-Zionist ultra-Orthodox). I can hardly advocate that we all become Orthodox, but I do advocate greater engagement with the historical, normative, Jewish tradition. Such engagement will certainly make us feel closer to Israel. Beyond that, we should promote and support the kinds of activities which foster attachment to Israel. Cohen and Kelman studied, in particular, the effect of trips to Israel on feelings of attachment. They found that all trips to Israel are good, that more trips are better than fewer trips, and that longer trips are better than shorter ones. There you have it. In Cincinnati, we have one of the best community programs supporting travel by young people to Israel, thanks to the Jewish Foundation of Cincinnati, and it is perhaps no accident that the 2008 Cincinnati Jewish community study found a surprisingly high level of attachment to Israel here.

The last aspect of Jewish unity or the lack of it which I would like to consider is that among the various religious streams in Jewish life – Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, etc. I am not sure how serious an issue these divisions are; some people have told me that only rabbis are concerned about them. However, I am going to talk about them. Let me first say that there is no reason why should all agree. The Mekhilta which I mentioned earlier notwithstanding, there are benefits to having different points of view represented. Indeed, the Midrash Shemot Rabbah, also speaking about Sinai, said that each Jewish person heard God’s voice in his or her own way. In Pirke Avot, we learn that a mahloket l’shem shamayim, a controversy for a worthy, substantive, purpose, has enduring value. I would add that no person and no group has a monopoly on truth or a monopoly on Judaism, so we do well to hear different points of view.

Also, we all have our red lines. No matter how inclusive we want to be, there are some matters of principle which will override the value of Jewish unity. By universal agreement, the Messianic Jews are beyond the pale, outside the Jewish community. Although some Messianic Jews are, indeed, Jews by birth, they are so far out that I will not knowingly include a Messianic Jew in a minyan. Beyond the Messianics, there is no unanimity concerning the boundaries of the Jewish community. For most purposes, I consider the anti-Zionist ultra-Orthodox Jews to be over the line. Certainly, that is true of the Neturei Karta. However, some anti-Zionist haredi groups are involved in various areas of Jewish community concern, like kashrut supervision, and I really can’t exclude them totally. Also, while I would never participate in a Messianic minyan, if there we no better alternative, I would participate in a haredi minyan.

There is one particular Hasidic group which requires special mention, and that is Chabad. I want you all to understand that Chabad is not Zionist. The organization tends to promote extremely right-wing political positions concerning Israel, but they do so for their own reasons; they do not recognize the legitimacy of the State of Israel as an expression of Jewish national life. In my experience, Chabad rabbis do not sing Hatikvah; they stand silently or leave the room when the anthem is sung at Jewish community events.

There is also the problem of Chabad Messianism. Some Chabad people – and I really don’t know how many; some serious authors have written that it is almost all of them – believe that the late Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, was the Messiah. According to some people, that belief puts them outside of Judaism, and people who follow that position consistently will not eat Chabad shehita or count a Chabadnik in a minyan. More problematic from my point of view, is Chabad’s role in the Jewish community. Basically, they don’t recognize anybody’s legitimacy other than their own. When they work together with other Jewish groups, it is totally from a pragmatic point of view, because it serves their purposes. If it serves their purposes, they will not hesitate to undermine Jewish community institutions.

At the same time, I have to recognize that, around the world, Chabad does a lot of good things. I have benefitted from Chabad hospitality in Mason (before our synagogue moved out here), in Kiev, and in Honolulu. Furthermore, I think that some of the unhappiness in the mainstream Jewish community about Chabad is not l’shem shamayim, but is rather the frustration of established organizations faced with competition from a guerilla force, that operates according to different rules.

Finally, I am not as upset by Chabad Messianism as some people are; I don’t believe that it automatically puts them outside of Judaism. After all, if I can believe that the Messiah is a figure from literature and folklore, why can’t they believe that Menachem Mendel Schneerson was the Messiah? Needless to say, I don’t share that belief, but heresy and nonsense are two different things. We all agree that the Messianic Jews are outside the realm of Jewish unity. I would like to exclude the anti-Zionist haredim, but not 100%. (There are also Jewish groups on the religious left that I find just as objectionable, but, if they participate in the community in a constructive way, then I regard them differently.) Chabad is in a category by itself.

I have talked a lot about reasons why not all Jewish groups can always get together. I have done so because the exceptions to what is (in my mind) an important rule require explanation. Other than those people whom I have mentioned, I believe that we should try to work together with other Jews, no matter what their religious orientation, as much as possible. We should cooperate whenever, in good conscience, we can. I would suggest, furthermore, that some obstacles to cooperation may be more apparent than real. For example, at a time when there was discussion of cooperation between our two Hebrew High schools, one Conservative and one Reform, some people said, “How can we do things together? We keep kosher and they don’t.” I pointed out that we were talking, not about running a restaurant, but about a school.

I believe that the value of k’lal Yisrael, the community of Israel, is not just a good idea, one which will save money by gaining efficiencies of scale and eliminating duplicate efforts, or one which will help us meet external challenges. I believe that it is firmly grounded in Jewish theology. There is a line that is a classic of Hebrew instruction: “Avraham haya hayehudi harishon” I have trouble with that line, because Abraham’s religious discovery (so to speak) was an individual one.

To be sure, each person has his or her own personal relationship to God, and each Jewish person has his or her own angle on Judaism. However, I believe that what we recognize as Judaism is intrinsically a communal, indeed, a national phenomenon. The root experiences of Jewish life are those in which (according to tradition) we all participated: the Exodus from Egypt and the gathering at Sinai. It’s harder Hebrew, but it’s better theology to say: Yotz’ei mitzrayim hayu hayehudim harishonim.

I would claim that our participation in the Revelation at Sinai is mediated by our participation in the life of the Jewish people. From time to time, I encounter people who have studied what they think is Judaism (often, it is the “Old Testament”) on their own, with no contact with the actual Jewish community. We should not belittle the genuineness of such people’s religious devotion, but they really have no concept of Judaism or Jewish life. If we want to live as Jews, then we have to be concerned about and involved with other Jews.

Today, it is all the rage to speak of narratives. In their important study, The Jew Within, Prof. Stephen Cohen, whom I have mentioned, and Prof. Arnold Eisen, now Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary, described the predominance of personal, individual, approaches to Jewish life among American Jews today. In their research, they asked people to give their own Jewish narratives, accounts of where they were Jewishly and how they got there. Following up, as Chancellor of the Seminary, Prof. Eisen has encouraged us in Conservative congregations to elicit people’s Jewish narratives. He has argued that, as people develop their narratives in conversation with one another, those individual narratives will merge into the historical narrative of the Jewish people. I can say only “Halavai!” May it be so, so that the prophecy of Ezekiel, that all the Jewish people will be united, will come to pass.

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