When Pluralism Picks a Side
Before the last century, young Jews were never afforded the opportunity to establish diverse communities. There was limited room to experiment between living in a Shtetl and shedding Judaism to become secular. Today, the narrative in North America is very different. Under the doctrine of religious freedom, Jews are no longer forced to live in insular communities and are free to practice how they wish. Less observant movements have flourished, implementing various reactions to fast-moving technological and social innovations. These solutions have coalesced into more distinct communities with a range of views and practices from Reform to Ultra-Orthodox.
Prayer, halacha, and norms all look different across these communities, yet they stem from the same base of rabbinic thought. Even though these groups tend to be more open than those of the past, differences are vast enough to ensure there is limited interaction without intervention. An Orthodox teenage Jew growing up in Teaneck is unlikely to engage with a Reform Los Angeles Jew in a religious context, even though both communities would have no problem with hosting members of the other. This problem prompted the rise of Pluralism, especially for Jewish teens and young adults, to encourage communal Jewish understanding. While Pluralism can give a good image of the Jewish landscape for young American Jews, it has the potential to privilege one model of Judaism and distribute compromise unjustly.
In this article, I will define Pluralism as an idea of curating a space where Jews from across the religious spectrum feel comfortable studying, praying, and participating in communal affairs and rituals. This comes with an understanding that while everyone has their preferred method of practice, sacrifice is imperative for the sake of practicing with a mixed group. These required sacrifices are often asymmetrical. Generally, it is easier for less religious people to enter a more religious space than vice versa. As a result, the space will end up either having to tend toward the right side of the spectrum, or risk encouraging religious Jews to violate their laws and customs.
In an actual Pluralistic setting, the compromise almost always manifests as a Traditional Egalitarian (Trad Egal) or Modern Orthodox (Modox) space. This choice seems optimal, as it is feasible for a Reform or secular Jew to attend a familiar space with an unfamiliar liturgy, while Orthodox Jews will mostly have a familiar liturgy in an unfamiliar space. Yet, this puts Traditional Egalitarian and Modern Orthodox Jews on a pedestal as the groups that rarely have to stretch to participate. This both crowns Trad Egal and Modox as the only compromise, and also deprives members of these groups the opportunity to explore other branches. Returning to the religious spectrum model, it can be seen that all pluralistic spaces pick one point to center around, with increasingly large concentric bounds of people that would have to stretch more to participate in that space, until you get far enough away that people would refuse to participate because it is too religious/not religious enough.
The religious spectrum is a useful comparative tool for relativizing different Jewish communities. Usually, it models observance, where the left side is less observant, and the right side is more traditional. An interesting symptom of this classification allows a prediction of how that group feels about others. As a gross oversimplification, anyone who is further left is seen as “not practicing real Judaism,” and anyone to the right is seen as a group of “hateful zealous fanatics.” However, I want to introduce a new axis to this equation: communal openness. There is a law in the Torah to love a fellow Jew as yourself, yet its interpretation and implementation do not cleanly fit the spectrum. This is especially glaring in the contexts of tefilla, conversion, and intermarriage. Generally, the more observant a group is, the more close-knit the community is, but they tend to be less friendly to outsiders.
For a lot of the larger reform and conservative communities, people go to synagogue on Friday night, interact with their friends and family, and then go home. For the more observant communities, there is a large expectation of both regular attendance and experience with traditional language (whether that be Hebrew, Yiddish, Aramaic, or others). An important exception to consider is that of Chabad. Their approach to kiruv (bringing Jews closer to Judaism by encouraging them to do mitzvot) is much more open than other groups on the right end. While a Charedi community member may reject a Jew who would drive to Shul, a Chabadnik on shlichut would act under an almost “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach to still give them a niche in the community. While this policy could manifest as a passive-aggressive space for those who are not interested in taking the Chabad path, it is friendlier than outright disdain. In conclusion, while a more observant community may generally be more of an off-putting space for newcomers or unconventional Jews, there are some exceptions that offer potential solutions for the future of shared Jewish spaces.
Another issue is how to comfortably include the far left and far right of the religious spectrum. For a Jew who knows nothing about tradition, the expected base of understanding is oftentimes too high for them (and teaching them would require selecting specific doctrine!). Other potential issues that permeate parts of the right are racism, homophobia, and sexism. For someone who is gay, it may be difficult for them to feel secure in a place where others consider them sinners for their sexuality. This division is untenable. A bridge must be built through open discussion to ensure basic levels of respect and understanding. Certainly, it is not the responsibility of the right to enforce their personal beliefs on the left in this regard; since sexual laws in the Torah are on an individual basis, there is hope for such a space to work.
Even so, the right will not want to compromise on anything that Torah or the rabbis say; they would not want to partake in anything that is not Orthodox, lest they be seen as supporting the actions taken. This position is legitimate since the Torah is the basis of the whole religion. It is then problematic for any pluralistic group to do anything that wouldn’t strictly follow the Torah with the purpose of including members of the left side of the spectrum, because they would fall into the danger of losing their identity as a religiously Jewish space. This problem is more likely to be mitigated than that of the left, since there is already a precedent of different Orthodox Jews being able to co-exist with different Jews. This is seen in the value of “shalom bayit” – a value encouraging the following of the customs of the host (as long as they still follow a respected interpretation of the Torah). A real-life example is the fact that a religious Ashkenazi Jew would still pray in a Sephardic minyan if they are in a Sephardic community.
These notions point to two clear conclusions: 1) Most Orthodox communities are open to practicing a form of Pluralism, and 2) The only way to really make a space where almost everyone would be able to participate is for it to fit into some halachically legitimate system, while keeping the floor open for individual practice. There are many ways for this space to be acceptable to less observant groups. The songs sung, the specific food eaten, the framing of the learning, the topics of discussion, and the activities can change to fit varying desires and familiarities of the group. This system would fix many of the previously stated issues but would introduce a slew of new challenges. First, the space would not feel like true Judaism to anyone. Second, there is a danger of overcorrecting towards apologism for old practices that the left may see as archaic. Finally, Orthodox Judaism is placed at the center rather than Trad Egal, merely shifting the problem rather than solving it. While these seem like major issues, they may just point to the solution we are looking for.
Historically, when two Jews got into an argument over practice, the only way to solve it was through discussion and mediation. Both sides would be presented, and whatever side the majority favored would be honored in the future – even if God Himself disagrees. This system worked because everyone present had a considerable amount of knowledge on the topic, and argued for the sake of Heaven (see Banishing the Jewish Binary). So too, when making key decisions about what to prioritize in a pluralistic setting, a discussion involving members of the target audience throughout the spectrum over the appropriate content is necessary. Shunning those who are considered too extreme will only divide the Jewish people, weakening our cohesion as a people. Only through constant and forthright reassessment, negotiation, and collaboration will Pluralism achieve its great potential.
