Investing in Our Brand of Judaism

When Deanna and I got married, her father suggested that we speak to his financial advisor about starting an investment portfolio.  We showed up with our modest savings and he recommended two mutual funds.  I followed their progress and noted, after a few years, that they weren’t doing so well.

I asked the advisor about them and he said, “Well, historically they’ve done well.”

And I said some version of, “I’m a very respectful student of history, but how does that help us now?”

And he said then, what he would say to us over and over again, you need to look at the long haul. 

At the time, I thought to myself, the phrase “you need to look at the long haul” must be his way of saying, “I messed up, but I can’t actually say that.”

But truly, over 25 years later, I’ve come to realize that he’s right.  Investments don’t necessarily pay off immediately, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t invest.  Careful, mindful investments generally do pay off in the end.

This morning, I want us to think about our investments – financial and spiritual – and the benefit they bring over the long haul.  Specifically, I want to talk about the importance of investing in the approach to Judaism that our synagogue represents.

For several months, we’ve been urging the congregation to vote for Mercaz, the organization that supports Masorti, or Conservative, Judaism in Israel.  The investment in a type of Judaism in Israel that is traditional yet open and fully egalitarian is crucial.  But we don’t always feel the importance of that investment, frankly, and we should.

Here’s a situation that will explain way we need to invest in Masorti Judaism:

For over two decades, the Masorti movement in Israel has sponsored a program to prepare children with special needs for bar and bat mitzvah. Participants have included children with cerebral palsy, Down Syndrome, ADHD, autism, blindness, hearing impairments and learning disabilities.

Each year, the Masorti movement partners with over 40 special education schools to bring appropriate bar/bat mitzvah training to over 300 children with special needs.  Whatever the physical, cognitive or emotional challenges, each child receives an aliya to the Torah.

This is the only program of its kind in Israel and it has drawn families from across the religious spectrum, including many Orthodox families. 

Let’s fast forward from the genesis of this program to recent events, April 2015.  The Masorti synagogue in Rehovot, a suburb of Tel Aviv, was planning a Shabbat morning b’nei mitzvah celebration in a Masorti synagogue for four children with autism. 

The children go to a special ed school run by the municipality of Rehovot and their teachers, with support from Masorti, had been working for months to prepare the children.  The families were looking forward to the event with great anticipation.

Several days before that Shabbat, the mayor of Rehovot, responding to pressure from charedi leaders in the community and himself a charedi Jew, in effect cancelled the b’nei mitzvah by forbidding the teachers in the school to attend the service in a Masorti synagogue.

Now the families are in what one Jewish leader called “Simcha limbo.”

At this point, the future of the b’nei mitzvah celebration is uncertain.  The Prime Minister received an anguished letter from leaders of the Conservative movement and several modern Orthodox leaders in Israel have denounced the mayor’s actions.  Hopefully these families and these children will have a bar and bat mitzvah experience like all other children, like all other families.

Why do we need to invest in Masorti Judaism?  Because through their efforts, all boys AND girls can be called to the Torah and can claim their rightful place as emerging Jewish adults, because they are bringing Judaism to Israeli families regardless of background or circumstance.

Investment is not always sexy.  It involves ongoing support.  In the case of Masorti, we have been paired with a synagogue in Ashkelon, Netzach Yisrael, the only egalitarian synagogue in Ashkelon and, by the way, a synagogue which, very much like ours, brings together Jewish families of all backgrounds – Ashkenazi, Sephardi and Mizrachi. 

I will add, in light of the discrimination against Ethiopian Jews that has been in the news lately, that Masorti leaders defended the Jewish legitimacy of Ethiopian Jews when it was questioned by the Chief Rabbinate decades ago.

The investment of Israelis and their American supporters in Masorti Judaism has helped to widen the influence of this type of approach, the Judaism of tradition and change.  Because of this investment, Masorti will continue to gain traction in the court of Israeli public opinion.

The parents of the thousands of special needs children who celebrated becoming bar and bat mitzvah over the past 20 years understand the importance of Masorti.  They know that it was because of the investment of resources and chutzpah that their children were allowed to claim their rightful place.

I am afraid that, deep down, those of us who practice the Judaism of tradition and change are not prepared to invest in it the way we need to, not in Israel, and not in our own synagogue. 

I’m not sure why but I have some hypotheses.  Firstly, we think someone else will do it.

Of course, if we think further, we know that others aren’t likely to support us. Orthodox Jews aren’t likely to support us, Reform Jews aren’t likely to, perhaps understandably.  So there’s no one else to invest in the type of Judaism that allowed men and women of all backgrounds and ages to lead services and share words of Torah a few weeks ago on Shabbat Koleinu, when the men and women of Temple Israel learned and led every part of our traditional service.  No one else to invest in the type of Judaism that maintains the balance between tradition and modernity that we do.

The second hypothesis I have is that on some level, we may fear that we’re not so authentic.  Besides, we’re convinced that the future of Judaism will not be guaranteed by us.  We’re not the ones keeping Judaism alive, we say to ourselves and, perhaps, quietly to each other.  It’s more traditional Jews that are ensuring our future.

If that’s how we feel, if we feel like grasshoppers, if we feel that we’re acting in a fashion that isn’t authentically Jewish and won’t guarantee a Jewish future, then we will likely fulfill that scenario through our action and our inaction.

Except that I believe, and I hope you believe, that our approach is authentic.

As authentic as Miriam leading the Israelites in song and Deborah leading the Israelite army 3000 years ago.

As authentic as Rabbi Akiva taking the human dimension into account when determining matters of Jewish law 2000 years ago.

As authentic as Maimonides considering how contemporary philosophy could shed light on Jewish thought and vice versa 1000 years ago.

We need to invest in what we do – in our education of children and adults across the lifespan – because we are authentic and because no one else will.  That means challenging ourselves to support Masorti in Israel and Conservative Judaism at Temple Israel to the extent that we are able.

In additional to ongoing financial investment, we need to invest in our own religious and spiritual development. 

Last week, when Rabbi Adelson was delivering the sermon, I sat in the congregation behind a family who are Temple Israel mothers.  The mom is a student in our adult bar/bat mitzvah class.  The class spends over an hour a week studying Jewish tradition and an hour a week studying Hebrew.  She was following in the siddur and noticed I was sitting behind her and asked me a question about an aspect of the reading, which I answered. 

It was great that she was practicing what she had learned and inquiring about the specifics and it was additionally great that her husband and young son saw her doing so.

This type of investment of time and energy definitely pays off.  It occurs across the Jewish spectrum to be sure, and we need to encourage it in our synagogue, in our context.

Every time we learn something, read something, commit to deepening our knowledge and our practice, we’re making an investment.

This morning’s Torah reading provides a fine metaphor for the importance of investment.  It’s known as shmita.  Six years you should work the land, and during the seventh year you should let the land rest.

The rabbis said, זרעו שש והשמיטו שבע zar’u shesh v’hashmitu sheva – work it for six years, let it rest on the seventh.

That’s investment.  The land doesn’t magically produce without effort.  Our glorious tradition doesn’t thrive for all men and women, regardless of background or circumstance, without investment.  Investment that often requires clearing a path and planting seeds and making sure there are proper nutrients.

I urge all of us to the think about the depth with which we invest in our tradition, a tradition which, in our hands, through the approach we use in our congregation and its Israeli counterparts, can bring fulfillment to each and every one of us.

Let us assure one another that our efforts will bear fruit in the short term, and over the long haul.

Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on May 16, 2015