For many Jews, the statistics released in the Pew Research Center’s “A Portrait of Jewish Americans” in October felt like a rude awakening.
We knew the U.S. Jewish community was changing — more intermarriage, less synagogue affiliation, less institutional attachment altogether, less felt obligation to financially support the Jewish community, a high level of atheism — but the Pew findings rocked our world.
Of the more newsworthy items, we learned that:
• Whether they consider Judaism a religion or a culture, most Jews have positive feelings toward it; 94 percent say they are proud to be Jewish and 75 percent say they have a strong sense of belonging to the Jewish people.
• However, more than ever, Jews are not marrying Jews; 72 percent of non-Orthodox Jews who have gotten married since 2000 have married non-Jews. But their children are more likely to identify as Jewish than were children of intermarried families in previous generations.
• When asked what is essential to being Jewish, 73 percent said, “remembering the Holocaust,” followed by “leading an ethical and moral life,” “working for justice and equality,” and “being intellectually curious.”
• Younger Jews feel less connected to Israel. Only 43 percent said “caring for Israel” is essential to their Jewish identity.
Many have been asking what the findings mean for us. How must we adjust our organized community so that we can better serve the Jews of today (and tomorrow)?
The more I think and study, the stronger I believe that it’s time for dramatic and deep change in how American Jews — and American Jewish institutions — talk about being Jewish.
We’ve got to dig deeper, beyond our ethnic foods and occasional holidays, our affection for dark humor and Jewish mothers, even our marches of the living, where we stand tall against our persecutors. Beyond even our pride in the American Jewish success story.
The Pew study has made a strong case for reconnecting with the great Jewish story that began in biblical times and rallies us around a shared sacred purpose.
Inspired lives
Like many Jewish organizations, the Jewish Community Relations Council is built on the sharpened tip of Jewish self-defense. Our mission is to build strategic relationships and defend others — in order to protect ourselves.
Ironically perhaps, my work with people from other faith communities has led me to look more deeply into my own faith and tap into Judaism as a wellspring for purpose and vision.
As “the Jew in the room,” I get excited when I can share a bit of Jewish text or elaborate on the source of a Jewish value. And people love it. Non-Jews seeking a values-driven life often are hungry for the wisdom of Judaism.
That has led me to ask: What about the Jews? Are we hungry for it? What about our communal consciousness and our institutions? Are they tapping into it?
Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik (1903-1993) found in Judaism two covenants, brit goral and brit ye’ud. Brit goral, the covenant of fate, is represented by the Exodus — without choice, the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt and then brought out by God to freedom.
That covenant is the foundation of collective consciousness. Jews have often found themselves alone in the world, so we see ourselves as part of a whole and call ourselves to action based on that experience of persecution.
Brit ye’ud, the covenant of destiny, is based on choice. Founded in the experience at Mt. Sinai, where Jews chose to receive the Torah and felt united in a sacred purpose filled with pride, hope and faith, this covenant is about responding to the prophetic calls of Judaism.
I think it’s time to take up Soleveitchik’s challenge to marry the two covenants and live inspired Jewish lives. What does that mean?
It means knowing our story — exploring Jewish texts, values, and history — and celebrating it. It means being educated Jews and allowing our children to wrestle with a vibrant and sometimes difficult Judaism rather than a watered-down version for easy digestion.
It means looking to Jewish teachers throughout time as models and messengers of valuable lessons. For example, the classic Talmud disagreements between Rabbis Hillel and Shammai illustrate how to disagree with civility and respect — lessons today’s leaders would be wise to heed.
Though they disagreed about most everything, they “showed love and friendship toward one another, thus putting into practice the injunction, ‘Love truth, but also peace’” (Zechariah 8:19, Talmud Yevamot 14b).
Other inspiring examples from our foundational texts and teachings are the Jewish charges to sanctify life, pursue justice and love community. We are commanded to pray together rather than isolate ourselves.
Embracing both covenants means leading with values, regardless of religious belief or practice.
I recently attended a retreat with a diverse group of Jews, including rabbis and other deeply engaged Jews, and some who felt ambivalent about Jewish identity and community.
Our learning included explorations of Jewish texts around kavannah (mindful intention), Shabbat (regaining balance through sacred rest), tzedek (justice) and mussar (ethical practice).
Within three days, most of the ambivalent Jews were inspired by the content of Judaism. By connecting with deep Jewish teachings, they were able to recognize and receive Judaism’s gifts.
The Pew report also forces us to open our eyes to the changing profile of American Jews. We must create institutions and programs that welcome Jews from all types of families, with a range of sexual identities and orientations, physical abilities, political positions and religious experiences.
We cannot afford to exclude people because they or their families don’t fit the boxes we’ve created, whether their spouses are not Jewish or they are divorced or their transgendered children require special bathroom arrangements.
We must ensure that all Jewish children, and all members of our community, have access to community resources and support, and to our faith’s great stories and teachings.
That diversity extends to political thought. We must be mindful to create a safe space for Jews from across the political or ideological spectrum.
We must continually ask: How do we lead toward justice while not excluding those who see the world differently? How can we follow the charge to repair the world (tikkun olam) while also building community (klal yisrael)?
Perhaps no issue is more fraught or divisive now than support for Israel. Like it or not, many young Jews don’t feel deeply tied to the Jewish state.
Growing up in a post-1948 world, they have no memory of the Jewish experience without the state. They have grown up associating Israel with conflict, and many of them don’t see themselves in that conflict.
Our community also includes Jews who are not Zionists, either because of ideology or lack of engagement. For those of us who care deeply about Zionism and modern Israel, this is deeply unsettling and painful.
But so what? As a Jewish community, we must figure out how to transcend our discomfort and include those Jews and their opinions in our discourse — or we risk alienating them from any connection to community or Israel.
Mindful that Israel is an expression of the deepest Jewish aspirations and that we cannot separate the Jewish story from the national project, I believe that we are strong enough to allow the range of voices within our community conversation. We must be. Or we risk pushing out of our tent those whose lot is with the Jewish people.
Right now, we don’t know how to include those challenging opinions in our community discourse. Instead, we get caught on code language and infighting, with Jews attacking other Jews. Israel is so deeply intertwined with our identity that their disagreement feels like an existential threat.
So we dig in our heels and affirm the “us vs. them” caricature. And then we learn to avoid the topic of Israel altogether; there is no upside to talking about Israel because you’re bound to become a target.
We need to simultaneously teach love and allow criticism. As the mother of teenagers, I want my children to fall in love with Israel. But I also want them to be ready for the outside world. If they cannot see Israel’s imperfections, their love may collapse under the pressure of harsh criticism. I’ve seen it happen.
But maybe, if our children are taught about Israel, warts and all, and if they are allowed to stray from our talking points and wrangle with its reality, perhaps they will become Israel’s most loving advocates. Perhaps they will see themselves in its aspirations, imperfect as they are.
We would be wise to consider the Pew study our call to action — look deeper, open your arms, or perish.
Elana Kahn-Oren is director of the Jewish Community Relations Council of the Milwaukee Jewish Federation.
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