An Interview with Rabbi Dalia Marx: The Struggle for the Soul of Israel

Cover of Rabbi Dalia Marx’s book, “From Time to Time: Journeys in the Jewish Calendar” (photo credit – Dana Bar)

Dalia Marx is Professor of Liturgy and Midrash at Hebrew Union College’s Jerusalem campus. A Reform rabbi, she teaches Israelis studying to be ordained rabbis as well as North American rabbinical students spending their first year of studies in Israel. Her book From Time to Time: Journeys in the Jewish Calendar, newly translated into English by Rabbi Peretz A. Rodman, blends traditional and contemporary perspectives on each Hebrew month and its holidays. 

From Time to Time has 12 chapters, each dedicated to a Hebrew month and the holidays in that month in the Hebrew calendar. Offering poetry, ancient and modern texts, ritual suggestions, historical reflection and “iyunim”—defined as inquiries from different points of view—the book showcases a wide variety of modern ways to celebrate Judaism. Laurence Wolff speaks with Marx on her book and Israel today. 

What prompted you to write this book? 

This book is my love letter to the Jewish people, saying that there are so many ways to experience your Jewishness, and using the Hebrew calendar as a medium to express this richness. When I think about Judaism in Israel, I see a great divide between two main overarching groups, one group that is racist, sexist and ultra-nationalistic, and another that is open to growth, change and creativity. This group includes Jews who are secular, Reform, Conservative, modern Orthodox and others. The book seeks to show that rigid boundaries impacting belief and practice are not needed.

In your book you constantly link the present with what people  were discussing and arguing about in 200 CE. What were you trying to say with this? 

I am trying to showcase an intelligent, profound and meaningful Judaism. I include ancient and contemporary viewpoints and documents—traditions from various Jewish ethnicities, stories from biblical times, the Mishnah, the Talmud, and medieval and contemporary studies. In the English edition, I add COVID-related material and reactions to the October 7 massacre. I also have a special interest in recognizing women’s voices.

Jews have always been diverse and multifaceted. Jewish customs, ways of life, and rituals have varied greatly in North America, North Africa, Asia and Europe. But I am saddened by the way Israelis talk about religion. Many feel that if you have an opinion, and it is not theirs, then you are a threat to them.

In fact, there is room for everybody, especially when it comes to ritual. I cannot say that your way of worship, liturgy, how to come closer to our God, our community, ourselves and our own souls is wrong. On the contrary, we need to celebrate a plurality of ideas and practices, which enrich our Jewish arena.

I do not mean that everything and anything goes. In order to choose your way of living, you need to be knowledgeable. I would argue that being a Reform Jew is significantly more difficult than other ways of Jewish living, because no authority tells me what to do or believe. I have to decide how to celebrate Shabbat, or to be kosher. In order to choose responsibly, I need to learn a great deal. How can you choose if you are not knowledgeable?

We are nearing the celebration of Purim on March 13, in the month of Adar in the Jewish calendar.  You wrote the chapter on Purim three years ago, but it is deeply relevant to today’s Israel. You wrote, “what can happen next? Who will stand up for those whose doom was decreed and who were then rescued—this time—from great travails? Who can guarantee that, in another generation, or even the very next year, another enemy like Haman won’t arise?” How do you respond to the Book of Esther now? 

In the Book of Esther, there is a decree by Haman and his followers that seeks to see us disappear from the face of the earth. The Purim story is a story of survival, which is something that concerns us greatly nowadays. But we are not like the Jews in Shushan. We have our country, government, and army. We are not defenseless. Before October 7, we were arrogant and haughty, and we did not see the danger lurking. For example, officials did not heed the voices of the female spotters—they dismissed them as hysterical.

In the last two chapters of the Book of Esther, Jews kill thousands of people. It is not an easy text. Sure, if someone wants to kill you, you have to do everything in your power to prevent it. But to ask for extra time to kill many more people is troubling. Nonetheless, we have to deal with what we read. For me, the text teaches us that power can be dangerous. We need to learn how to manage power when it is in our hands and to find ways for power to make us more responsible.

How can we celebrate Jewish holidays after October 7?

Every celebration, every festival, every holiday that we have had in the last 19 months has a new context because of what happened. Hundreds of new prayers have been written since October 7 and during this horrific war. This is an unprecedented phenomenon. I collected many of these prayers and gave them to the National Library in Jerusalem. October 7 has informed the way we relate to our Jewish year cycle and will continue to be present for a long time.

In one of your talks, you said that, growing up, you “did not know that you were Jewish.” What did you mean by that? 

I was raised in Israel, so Judaism was there, but it was like something “ready-made,” not something that was ours to explore and experience. For example, during holidays, school was closed, but what did that actually mean? How could we experience holidays in a meaningful way? Those who were raised in secular families, like mine, sought to engage with their Jewishness, but found no way to combine Jewish values with both tradition and modernity. So, they said, if Judaism is what it is in the ultra-Orthodox world, then I do not want anything to do with it. They say, if that is what being Jewish means, then I am not Jewish.

This is Israel’s institutional Orthodoxy, where state and “church” are combined in a way that does not allow religious freedom in Israel. We cannot get married according to our will, nor can we be buried according to our faith. In fact, Israel is the only country in the Western and free world where Jews do not have religious freedom. If this happened in Germany, France, India, the United States, Canada,  we would consider it overt antisemitism, but we live it on a daily basis. And the boundaries are not just between people of different streams. In some Ashkenazi ultra-Orthodox schools, Sephardic girls are not allowed to enroll. Others will not share a meal with people who follow a different stamp of kashrut.

When Israelis come to the United States, they may discover a vibrant non-Orthodox community. Some of our Israeli rabbinic students at Hebrew Union College, as well as others, found their Jewishness when they came to the United States, working in a summer camp or in a synagogue or to seek an advanced academic degree. They said, wow, Judaism can be vibrant, meaningful, profound. It does not have to be the way it is in Israel.

In the last survey of Israelis in 2018, 11 percent of Israeli Jews said they were Reform or Conservative. That meant, in most cases, that the synagogue they did not go to is a Reform or Conservative synagogue. If they were to take that survey now, what percentage of Israeli Jews do you think would self-identify in that way?

While there is a good chance that the numbers have increased during the last years, identifying with the Reform movement is one thing, but identifying with liberal and progressive ideas is another. A few years ago, the Jewish People Policy Institute asked people if they preferred to worship in a synagogue with gender separation. More than one third of respondents said they wanted mixed seating. They may not come to a Reform synagogue, but they have progressive and liberal values about the way they want to worship.

In fact, many people identify with our ideas and values, but not with the “R” (Reform) word. It is true we do not see these people often in our synagogues. But, since October 7, every Saturday night our rabbis and congregants go to the streets to perform Havdalah in “Hostage Square” in Tel Aviv, and in a similar location in Jerusalem. Women often lead the Havdalah service, a nearly unique practice in Israel. People come and join us. I also often lead the Kabbalat Shabbat service in “Hostage Square” in Jerusalem.

People say that this is not the Israel of three years ago. That it is a different place. 

We have communal PTSD. Five years ago, the whole world experienced COVID.  After COVID, we had the judicial upheaval, and then we had October 7. We have been in a constant state of crisis, a deadly and painful one.

In fact, I believe that Jews, in general, are a post-traumatic people. Post-Holocaust, definitely. Even before then, we heard stories of trials, tribulations, migrations, and pogroms. Our problem today is that we were taught and believed that this, as well as Antisemitism, belonged to the past.

Can Israel prevail? Can it remain a Jewish and democratic state?

This is an unprecedented, challenging time. But we have an enormous capacity to recuperate and recover. We not only have a strong army, but, as a people, we have immense vitality and a will for life. We will find a way out of this dark forest of conflict. I have no doubt about it. But what really keeps me awake at night is the future of Judaism as a caring, humane religion and culture. This is a struggle for the soul of Israel—its survival as a Jewish and democratic state.

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This article originally appeared in Moment Magazine.