Judaism Speaks Through a Chorus of Voices

Judaism Speaks Through a Chorus of Voices

When people first learn that I'm a rabbi, they sometimes give a quick once-over. Noting my open collar, khakis and mostly dark hair, they say, "You're a rabbi? That's funny — you sure don't look like one." What they think, but don't say is, "Where's your long frock coat, your big black hat, and your beard reaching halfway down your belly?"

Oy, the cognitive dissonance — I can see it in the puzzled looks on their faces. Their image of a Jew, and certainly of a rabbi, is actually that of an ultra-Orthodox Jew, and ultra-Orthodox Jews comprise only a small minority of American Jewry today. As a Reform Jew, however — part of a larger and more liberal Jewish denomination — I don't fit their mold at all.

In fact, there are many different kinds of Jews in the United States these days, and this is part of what makes American Jewish life so rich and fascinating.

The three largest of today's Jewish religious denominations are Orthodox, Conservative and Reform. Orthodox Judaism is strictest in its interpretation of Jewish law, Conservative Judaism is more lenient, and Reform more lenient still. Some have called these three denominations "Crazy, Hazy, and Lazy," but this doesn't do justice to any of us.

In some ways, the fundamental difference between the three religious movements is quite simple. It has to do with their differing views of what authority Jewish scripture and later rabbinic commentaries should have over Jewish life.

To oversimplify, Orthodoxy holds that the Torah and later commentaries are the infallible word of God, exactly as written in the old books. As a result, Torah's every commandment is binding, its every story true, and we as human beings are not free to change it.

Reform Jews, on the other hand, argue that Torah is a human document. Though perhaps divinely inspired, it was written by people — people striving to understand God, their world and how best to live sacred lives. The people who recorded the words of Torah many centuries ago, Reform suggests, did so based on their own understanding of truth, and we must do the same. Therefore, after study and struggle, not only may we change our understanding of God's will from that of our ancestors — indeed, sometimes we must.

Conservative Judaism agrees in principle with Orthodoxy that the Torah comes from God, but argues that there is far more room for progress and change within the parameters of Torah than Orthodoxy allows.

There are smaller Jewish denominations, as well. Reconstructionist Judaism, which began as a mid-20th-century breakoff from the Conservative movement, sees Judaism as a developing religious civilization and rejects notions of a supernatural God and Jewish chosenness. Jewish Renewal, sometimes described as "New Age Judaism," incorporates meditation, mysticism and other spiritual practices. Secular Humanist Judaism rejects the centrality of God altogether, in favor of a folk-based, humanistic approach to the religion.

But there's more. Many members of these denominations array themselves into clearly defined subgroups. Some Orthodox Jews, for example, are Modern Orthodox, meaning that they lead thoroughly modern lives while strictly adhering to Jewish law. Others are ultra-Orthodox, who reject modernity and live, dress and work just as they imagine that their pre-modern ancestors did. Some ultra-Orthodox Jews are Hasidic Jews, part of populist and often ecstatic mystical movement that began in late 17th-century Eastern Europe, and the Hasidic Jews themselves fall into dozens of subgroups, each sect following the teachings of its own sages.

It's all very complicated, and it reflects the fact that there's a lot that we Jews disagree about. But it also means that each of the questions we face unleashes a huge chorus of different voices. Some speak silliness, others great wisdom, and through it all, our shared quest for truth becomes a fascinating adventure.

If you think that a rabbi has to wear a long beard and black coat in order to look the part, then I guess you're right — I don't look like a rabbi at all. But if this is the case, then I should really introduce you to a friend and colleague of mine. Rabbi Betsy doesn't look very much like a rabbi, either.

Rabbi Mark S. Glickman leads Congregation Kol Shalom on Bainbridge Island and Congregation Kol Ami in Woodinville. Readers may send feedback to faithcolumns@seattletimes.com

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