Everything has a history, and Judaism is no exception. Much that characterises Jewish behaviour today is not even mentioned in the Bible, and there are many obligations mandated in our ancient sources which we pay no longer pay any attention to. The bible knows nothing of bar or bat mitzvahs, of Jewish status being passed down the mother’s line, of kiddush or two loaves of challa on a Friday night, of cheder, Jewish schools or even rabbis, to mention just a few. And we, for good reason, have dispensed with much that the bible insists upon, we no longer condemn people to slavery for debt, conduct trials by ordeal, stone adulterers, offer sacrifices and so on.
It is not just the big, visible things that have changed. Throughout history Jewish law and practice has evolved and developed in response to new social, technological and economic circumstances. Many of the changes have been small and unremarkable; like abolishing the fine levied on someone who insulted a rabbinic scholar in public, or drinking water that has been left uncovered overnight (we are no longer afraid that a snake might have injected its venom into it). Others, like the ban on polygamy in Ashkenazi communities and the introduction of rabbinic salaries have had a far greater social impact. So have Kabbalistic rituals, prayers and ideas which began to enter daily life from the 12th century onwards, and which played an important role in the emergence of hasidism in the 18th century.
The most radical developments in Jewish history came after Rome’s destroyed the Temple in 70 CE. The destruction of the Temple meant the end of the sacrificial cult which lay at the heart of biblical Judaism. Had it not been for the creativity of the rabbis of the late 1st and 2nd centuries, and their successors who laid the foundations of Talmudic Judaism, it would have been the demise of the Jewish faith. It is not too much of an exaggeration to say that these rabbis founded an almost new religion. Their Judaism, rabbinic Judaism as it is known, is vastly different from its biblical predecessor. Not only because it vests authority in rabbis and halacha rather than priests and Temple, but because it is a self-contained, organic system that, in theory at least, is capable of responding to profoundly changing conditions and new technical and social innovations.
At the heart of the rabbinic system is the idea that when new problems of law, practice and behaviour need to be solved, it is the rabbis, working within the formal structure of the halachic system, who can solve them. This doesn’t mean that the halachic system is immune to outside influences; science, philosophy and medical advances have all played their part in the development of Jewish law. But it does imply that new ways of looking at the world can only have a limited impact on Jewish practice. Or that is what the rabbis thought, until the 19th century.
The first cracks in the inviolability of the rabbinic system were delivered by the Wissenschaft des Judentums, or Jewish studies movement in Germany. A key idea behind the movement was that Jewish culture had a history that could be investigated and studied; that there was more to Judaism than just religion and, in the eyes of some thinkers, that the religion had run its course. The Wissenschaft movement threatened the rabbinic world view. It led directly to the emergence of Reform Judaism, to the assertion that Judaism was more than simply a national religion, that it was possible to construct a new style of Judaism that would both benefit from the new modernity and would contribute to the shaping of world civilisation.
Reform Judaism meant that traditional Judaism needed a new name. Before Reform came along, Judaism was just Judaism. After reform broke away, the people they left behind became known as Orthodox. The word means correct thought.
The creation of the Reform movement opened the door to other expressions of Judaism. The Conservative movement in the USA was created by those who felt that Reform had gone too far; that it had dispensed with too many of the rituals and practices of traditional Judaism. The apocryphal spark for the creation of the Conservative movement was the treif banquet when, at a dinner given by the Reform movement in 1883, some of the diners were horrified to find that they were about to be served seafood. They walked out and set up the Conservative movement. In Britain, the reaction to Reform went the other way. The Liberal movement was founded by those who thought the Reform was not living up to its original promise, that it was too willing to compromise on issues like egalitarianism and on whether to move Shabbat to Sunday.
The consequence of all this is that the Jewish world today is fragmented. Not just into the four or five denominations that existed a decade or two ago, but increasingly into innumerable sub-denominations, each with a distinct ideology or a perspective on what is and what is not important to them. Orthodoxy is still the largest denomination, although they are outnumbered by secular Jews - and so long as secular Jews continue to define themselves in religious terms e.g. ‘I am Jewish but I am not religious,’ maybe we should include them as a denomination. The fragmentation of the Jewish world is real, and for many people, it takes some getting used to.
It is orthodoxy which is most disturbed by the fragmentation, because it has good historic precedent for asserting that it is the most authentic form of Judaism. Not that orthodoxy today is the same as it was even fifty years ago, but it can, more than any other form of Judaism, trace an evolutionary, rather than a revolutionary path through history. And because it feels that Judaism is threatened by fragmentation, in those areas where religious power still prevails, such as the religious character of Israel, orthodoxy refuses to give an inch. This is not necessarily a good thing, even from an orthodox point of view. Resisting fragmentation will not drive it away, and the question has to be whether the shifting sands of time can ever be resisted. Jewish history suggests not and there are many orthodox rabbis today who recognise this, who are far more willing to engage with non-orthodox colleagues than has been the case in the past.
Even from a traditional perspective, fragmentation may not be a bad thing, if it encourages people to engage with their Jewish identity in a way that resonates with them. It was after all, the pious Talmudic rabbi Nahum of Gamzu, the teacher of Rabbi Akiva, who coined the phrase gamzu l’tova- in response to even the most disastrous events he would say ‘this too is for the best.’
But there is one area where the fragmentation of Judaism, the splitting away into many different camps should concern us. It is that the more we fragment the greater the danger that we may lose our awareness of much of our history; of our experiences, texts, stories and the sense of who we are. Judaism has survived many things, it will continue to survive. Its future character need not worry us. But it would be a shame for it to lose touch with where it came from.
Fascinating! Thank you! xx