Covenantal Judaism

In preparing for his talk last month at the Jewish Theological Seminary on “The Future of Conservative Judaism,” Rabbi David Wolpe of Sinai Temple asked colleagues, friends and congregants to define Conservative Judaism in one sentence — and found they couldn’t do it.

In the cover article of the current issue of the Jewish Journal, Rabbi Wolpe suggests that Conservative Judaism change its name to something that better expresses its organizing principle — “Covenantal Judaism” — focusing on three covenants:  with God, with Jews, and with the non-Jewish world:

The first covenant is an evolving relationship, neither fixed in 18th century concrete nor free from history and tradition:

Some Jews believe that everything important in the friendship between God and Israel has already been said. The Torah, the Talmud, the classical commentators and codes have said all the vital, foundational words. . . 

[This] is a Judaism frozen in time, as though all the clocks stopped in the 18th century.

Conversely, there are those who think the past weightless, because times have so radically changed. . . . [The past] is seen largely as something to be overcome, not to be cherished and integrated into the present. . .

Covenantal Judaism believes in the continuous partnership between God and Israel. . .  Our past is the platform from which we ascend. The covenant at Sinai is the first, reverberating word.

The second covenant is one that binds all Jews — “not only those Jews whom we like or . . . approve . . . but all Jews” in an active dialogue, and a recognition that we must stand first (although not exclusively) for ourselves:

Too many Jews remind me of Charles Dickens’ Mrs. Jellyby in “Bleak House,” who is always charging off to do good works, while neglecting her own wretched children at home.

I remember when I was teaching at Hunter College in New York, a student approached me and asked:  “Today there is an anti-apartheid rally and a rally for Soviet Jewry.  I’m planning to attend the anti-apartheid rally.  Can you give me a good reason to go to the Soviet Jewry rally?”

“Yes,” I answered. “If you attend the anti-apartheid rally, who will go to the Soviet Jewry rally?” . . .

Ahavat Yisrael, love of Israel, is not an emotional impulse but a covenantal responsibility. That is why Covenantal Judaism is passionate about the land of Israel and the people Israel.

The third covenant is with the rest of the world:

Jewish World Watch has organized our response to the calamity of Darfur. Jewish leaders have shouted to the world, bringing attention to genocide in Cambodia and Rwanda, and championed the recognition of the Armenian genocide.

These and countless similar causes and efforts are not strategic or to reflect credit on ourselves. They are sacred Jewish obligations. Jews who care for the Jewish community alone are neglecting the first, most comprehensive covenant.

Rabbi Wolpe wants Convenental Judaism to fashion a movement “that can change Jewish life in America and beyond.”  The call reminds me of the insight Burton Cooper had in writing about the work of Rabbi Harold Kushner — an emphasis less on theology and more on the application of religious insights as a practical force in the world.  Cooper wrote that this provided:

the clue to the great need of the church and synagogue in the second half of this [20^th] century:  for pastoral theologians who live and work with their congregations and who know how to lead religious people . . . into a reflective, vital, lived piety consonant with their modern consciousness.” 

In my view, what Conservative Judaism offers is an invigorating mixture of religious tradition and modern consciousness, a dialogue between past and present, between rabbis and congregants, between Jews of all backgrounds, and between Jews and the non-Jewish world — a “reflective, vital, lived piety” lost neither in sheltered communities nor in the cloistered halls of academe, but out there in the world, emanating from the shul as a place to learn and challenge, to act and implement the five thousand years of divine insights we have been given.

Well, there you go — one sentence, although a little long with a whole lot of subclauses :-). 

An old joke has it that the three major branches of Judaism — Orthodox, Reform and Conservative — can each be described in a single word:  crazy, lazy and hazy.  What Rabbi Wolpe’s essential article actually demonstrates is that Conservative Judaism cannot be contained within a single word, or name or sentence. 

It is a rich body of religious thought, neither completely bound nor completely free from the past, and its fundamental premise is an ongoing dialogue — with God, ourselves, and the world.  Rabbi Wolpe’s article is a major contribution to that dialogue.