I am both overjoyed and overwhelmed by how well the discussion is going in this thread. The depth, breadth and quality of the comments has far exceeded what I dared hope for, and the thread hasn’t begun to dwindle yet.
Reading all your comments, one thing has really struck me: if this is what today’s Judaism is, what people today want Judaism to be — and it clearly is just that — then contemporary Judaism is awesome. Contemporary Judaism is progressive, pluralistic, and respectful, engaged, just, and amenable, participatory, responsive, dynamic, inclusive. So many common themes ring through all of our requests: we want a Judaism that is egalitarian, that addresses sexism, heterosexism, racism and other forms of oppression. We want a Judaism that is accessible to people of diverse beliefs and backgrounds. We want a Judaism that is able to change and grow without losing its meaning and its rituals. We want plural Judaisms, diverse communities and spaces that are able to dialogue, to respectfully disagree and to act as allies. We want inclusive Jewish communities that are welcoming, that don’t shame people for their supposed level of Jewishness or constantly recreate painful and absurd “who is a Jew” contests. We want a Judaism that speaks of God in both male and female language. We want a Judaism that recognizes culture as coequal with religion, and that acknowledges and embraces that diverse cultures and ethnicities that Jews embody. We want a hundred more beautiful, commendable things.
To those of us who have felt left out, at odds with our own people, strangers in our own communities (and I daresay this is all of us): look around you. Here in just a few short hours have appeared dozens of people like you, people who have also felt left out, people who also struggle, people who like you want and need our community, culture and religion to be radically accepting, to be egalitarian, justice-centered, evolving and conversational and here, now, alive today among us. I do not doubt that there are hundreds of us, thousands, even millions perhaps, and that together we can create exactly the Judaism that we want. We can establish a resplendent, vital, just and sustainable Jewish culture, one that does all the things we’ve asked for here and more. We can do this because there is no one but us. This thing is ours. It our birthright, our inheritance, whether we we born to it or not — whether we came to it by blood, by choice or by coincidence, it is ours now. We will claim it.
So what next? Faith asked whether I was planning to use these responses for a larger project. I don’t know what that project will be, but I feel desperately that this conversation should continue. I don’t know how exactly, or what form it will take. I’m hoping that among us we can continue asking questions and offering answers (what more Jewish way to proceed?), and link together all the conversations in one place (I offer a page at my blog) in order to allow everyone to follow along, new people to join in and catch up, etc. — in order to keep track of where we’re going and where we’ve been.
Is that something that sounds interesting to all of you? Any other ideas or suggestions? I can certainly think of more questions, write more posts, but I think it will only work — will only grow and continue — if other folks also write posts and ask questions. The conversation would, that way, be, perhaps, endless, each question generating more questions, and countless people encountering them, taking the words with them forever into the world. Words and stories are deathless and unkillable. Our conversations would have no one home, no ruler, no single location, but would merely multiply, freely and with joy, spreading out in every direction like music, like wildflowers, like the Jewish people ourselves.
(I respectfully request that this thread be restricted to the Jewish community, broadly defined, because I’d like to create a space for focused, intra-communal discussion. As I said before, I’m focused on Jews because I’m Jewish; I’m 100% in favor of others doing this kind of thing for whatever groups they belong to.)
[...] Cross-posted at Feministe. [...]
I would definitely like to see a larger discussion. In a fantasy world, this continuing discussion would lead to an IRL meeting of some sort, whether in the context of another conference or on our own. Is there currently a Jewish feminist conference?
JOFA used to have one but it seems like the last one was in 2007 and I suspect JOFA wouldn’t have us (though I might be wrong about that).
Some kind of IRL meeting — nay, meetings, plural! — would be incredible. I think we should definitely keep that in mind as an aspiration.
JOFA is a really cool organization, but Orthodox definitely doesn’t describe most of the people in this discussion. I’m sure there must be some kind of Jewish feminist conference, although I can’t think of any off the top of my head… Anyone else know of any other similar events?
In the previous thread there was some mention of the “where are the men in liberal Judaism?” issue that is often raised.
Maybe I missed it, but I wonder if the “disappearance of men” in liberal Judaism (which is an overstated phenomenon, from what I can tell) reflects Jewish assimilation into American ways of religiosity (or at least our perception of what a religious space is to American Protestants).
Perhaps this is more a matter of my stereotype than any reality, but when I think of American Christianity, I think of “church-going” as being a more feminine than masculine phenomenon. For example, one thinks of The Waltons where the father simply didn’t go to church but the mother was quite religious. Or the famous picture (although this would have been, I guess, in England) of Whitefield preaching where the only other face you really see is that of a woman. Or, for that matter, remember it’s “the church lady” not “the church guy”.
Perhaps we liberal Jewish males have internalized a stereotype of American religiosity and are subconsciously trying to fit in by eschewing organized religious observance?
well. if theres not a jewish feminist conference i propose someone set up a jewish feminist conference. ideally in the midwest, next spring, cuz i could totally show up to that.
daisy, i didnt comment on your last post because so many other people said exactly what i felt. thanks for starting this great discussion.
I find it perplexing to think of a group of people working to change Jewish culture, or any group’s culture. If you feel that the culture needs to be changed why do you want to be a part of that culture? Why not choose a culture that matches your beliefs and outlook on life?
TheThomas,
I find your question perplexing. Do you think that culture is static and unchanging? Are feminists not engaged in trying to change the cultures in which they live? Why should we abandon Judaism to the ultra-orthodox? Why not try to make it our own?
I like the idea of a Rabbi as someone who performs community service. I remember when I was 11 and very depressed and my mom took me to see the Rabbi for advice, he recommended watching “The Frisco Kid” and some other comedies to cheer me up. I like the fact that there is little to no talk of what happens when we die. I like the idea that we do what is right not for a reward, but because it is the right thing to do. I like that we’re expected to decide what the laws mean every generation. The story of Rabbi Elazar is perhaps my favorite (You can find it perhaps one third of the way down this page http://www.mainemason.org/mlr/rabbiweber.htm). I like that we recognize that there are times the rules must be broken to stay healthy.
I don’t like the idea that women can’t be Rabbis. I don’t appreciate the suggestion that I should only hear a woman sing if I’m married to her (Honestly, it seems like more than half of my favorite vocal artists are female). Things of that sort.
As I think about it, Judaism as a culture is important to me because of the social network it provides. I know that whatever city I go to, I can find a community to join. Judaism is best described as a book club. You get together and talk about literature, what a certain passage is really saying, and how it is relevant to your life.
I’m not fully practicing. I do the fast days, I keep peasach, I try not to eat pork or seafood. I rarely go to services though. I keep telling myself that when I’ve settled down I’ll go, that I’m just not in a situation where I’m prepared to join a community yet. Maybe when I get into graduate school. I’ve been going to something at UCSD called “Sushi with Rabbi Jeff”, and that’s been interesting. It’s my first interaction with an orthodox Rabbi.
I do love books. I can’t sell them. When I have more books than I have shelf-room, I find ways to give them away (most recently, I’ve been using book mooch). I also like bagels. I know that when I get married, I’d like a Jewish wedding to a Jewish woman, but if I fall in love with someone who isn’t Jewish and she doesn’t want to convert, I’m not sure if that’s a deal breaker or not. I could possibly convert to agnosticism (and be a Jewish agnostic) or atheism. I wouldn’t, however, give up the fast days.
I like some ideas of reconstruction, and that seems to go in the spirit of the story linked of Rabbi Elazar, that we need to re-interpret the spirit of the law every so often. I’m not involved with any reconstructionist groups that I’m aware of though.
I want Judaism to be an extended family of sorts. Maybe you don’t like all your family members, but you accept them.
Shoot, I posted that in the wrong thread.
Thomas: I second what chingona said. Culture is not static — it’s in a constant state of flux. Judaism specifically has a very long and well-documented history of people reinterpreting our traditions.. Working to make cultures more just is actually a fundamental tenet of Judaism (tikkun olam).
Also, we don’t get to choose our cultures. We inherit them. I find just “choosing” someone else’s culture to be really problematic (it’s also usually really racist, i.e. white people laying claim to the cultures of people of color).
I love my culture and it does line up with my beliefs, more profoundly than any other system in the world. That doesn’t preclude also working to make it better, to keep it alive and healthy. To me, your comment is like saying, “Why are you setting aside special family time to keep your family close? Why are you always talking to your relatives about your relationships with them, trying to improve those relationships all the time? Maybe you should just choose a new family that’s perfect already.”
No worries, Michael. : )
If you feel that the culture needs to be changed why do you want to be a part of that culture?
Because culture is a human product. It’s not like a statue, that you sculpt one time and then step back to admire. It’s like a house, that you have to clean every week to keep from falling into disrepair, or a child, that you have to interact with and teach every day. If you don’t, the child still grows and changes, and the outcome isn’t good. If you don’t make your own culture, someone else will. We make culture. I work every day to make American culture and American feminist culture better and stronger, and I sincerely hope you do the same, even if your idea of better is at odds with mine. Every day, my culture is formed. If I stay silent and abdicate my role to others, I deform my culture by removing my voice from it. I am not sure how Jewish I am, but if I am Jewish, I make Jewish culture what it is.
Dead cultures don’t change. Live ones do.
Also, we don’t get to choose our cultures.
This. I can choose not to practice Judaism, and I can choose how or whether to engage with the larger Jewish community. But I can’t not be Jewish.
Sophonisba, to your entire comment: YES.
Also, we don’t get to choose our cultures. We inherit them.
I have to disagree with this, completely. This is true for some people–truer if they want it to be–but not for all. It is true, but only, if you will, in certain cultures. I was born to a Jewish parent, but I was not born into Jewish culture, and if I want to be Jewish, I have to choose it (and not just choose it, but work for it.) I have also chosen not to inherit the particular Protestant culture of my other parent–it’s there for me, an unearned gift, if I want to accept it, but I don’t have to. I have a thorough understanding of it, but no elective affinity for it, and I am not a member of it. No one has the authority to declare that I don’t “get to” (in the insufferable idiom of our time) decide that.
(but, er, I do agree with the rest of what you said! I am just argumentative.)
Sophonisba — those are good points, and I don’t know how to respond, because I feel like our contradictory statements are simultaneously true… Give me a little while to think more about it. And I welcome your argumentativeness. : )
Hmmm … I think the difference is in how you define culture and how you define choosing. When I say that I can’t not be Jewish, I mean that the parts of myself that come from my family’s Jewishness cannot be undone and don’t go away just because I choose not to engage with the larger Jewish community. I have a culturally non-Jewish parent and non-Jewish family, and I certainly have aspects of their culture as well. They’re just less visible because that’s the dominant culture. You get the fish in water effect. But I can’t undo or unchoose those things either.
I would love to be a part of a continuing conversation about all of this. I’ve found myself thinking more and more about Jewish tradition these days- probably at least in part because I no longer consider my observance to be tied to my parents’. Add on finding out that my father has cancer, and I’m starting to consider being more observant than I’ve ever been in my life, because I need to start saying the misheberach for him (oh god, transliterated spelling is hell). But if I’m going to be more observant, then I need to be aware of what choices I am making in terms of how I observe and how that intersects with the rest of my life, including my feminism.
And the thing is, the Jewish religious groups that I’m involved in have a fabulous, open, accepting culture that I love. I have two more years in this wonderful little bubble of near-perfect (for me) Judaism in college. But what happens after that?
Thanks for updating your disclaimer. Much appreciated!
Daisy, I’ll just note that when you asked only the “Jewish community” to respond to the last blog post, you specifically asked those of us who feel alienated from that community not to speak. It’s not as surprising that you were pleased by the level of inclusiveness and common feeling in that thread.
I’ll just step back now into being “insufficiently Jewish”, but I wanted to make that note.
Chialea,
I’m curious if you read the thread to see how that statement evolved and why Daisy used it, as well as the statements of the people participating. There were people in that thread who felt quite alienated from Judaism and/or the Jewish community, people whose only connection to their Jewish roots was being taught shame about their Jewish features, and people who said Judaism should be allowed to die like all religions. There was a pretty broad range of opinion.
Chialea – what would you suggest as a more inclusive terminology to include those who feel alienated from the community?
Michael: I don’t like the idea that women can’t be Rabbis. I don’t appreciate the suggestion that I should only hear a woman sing if I’m married to her. This is only among orthodox. In the reform, conservative and reconstructionist movements women are rabbis and cantors. There is no kol isha restriction in these denominations.
TheThomas:I find it perplexing to think of a group of people working to change Jewish culture, or any group’s culture. If you feel that the culture needs to be changed why do you want to be a part of that culture? Why not choose a culture that matches your beliefs and outlook on life?
First off, I would respond that there is no culture that intrinsically “matches” each of our beliefs – would you agree? Jewish culture, at least for me, is what I grew up with. It would be difficult to remove the concepts of refraining from lashon harah and sinat chinam and striving for tikkun olam from my person. These are central to my core personality today and obviously are not the only examples. Judaism is a culture that has changed drastically over the millenia. Every p’sak, every responsa changes the culture to some degree, whether for the better or worse.
I’ve been debating whether to post or not because I’m breaking the “rules.” But even with the modification I am still offended by explicitly excluding people from posting. I think there are better ways of keeping the discussion focused than telling people to stay away, such as by laying out your expectations of what you want the discussion to be and stating that you will strictly monitor the comments. Feministe has had problems with the comments being derailed, but I don’t remember another post excluding others from the discussion rather than asking that people stay focused.
I am about to marry an atheist Jew. Your post makes me relive all of the BS I’ve had to deal in the process, and from reading the responses to your earlier post, it seems that my experiences are not unique. It sucks to feel judged and unwelcome by people who don’t even know me. (But, on the plus side, it gives me more empathy for people who have to deal with much worse.)
I understand completely the distress that people feel at the idea that this conversation should start with people who consider themselves part of the Jewish community, and obviously, there’s a way to read that so that it alienates people who shoudl be part of this conversation– people who have/had significant ties to Judaism and who had them severed or who were repelled by the Jewish community as it exists today.
But at the same time, this conversation would get nowhere and satisfy no one if it had gotten bogged down in questions about whether religion and nationhood are intrinsically problematic, or if it had become a Judaism 101 where we had to start from scratch in explaining the crises facing Judaism today; also, if we felt we had to tiptoe around apologizing for historic aspects of Judaism that inspired antisemitism 200 years ago and that we’re very happy to have left behind, but that nonetheless are part of the conversation about Judaism’s evolution.
Judaism’s transformation and evolution first has to serve the people who are invested, voluntarily or not, in the Jewish community.
Chialea — I’m deeply sorry if you feel unwelcome here, but I honetly have no idea what you’re talking about. I used “Jewish community, broadly defined” in order to be as inclusive as I felt possible without opening the conversation up to constant 101-derailing, accusations that the conversation shouldn’t even exist, etc. In my first post, I wrote:
As I said in my first post, I especially want to talk to Diaspora Jews of my generation who, like me, are concerned with this task, but all responses are welcome. I would also very much like to hear from those Jews who are most at risk of being left out of the conversation: queer folks, Jews of color, Jews from “intermarried” families and those with only one Jewish parent, those who are themselves married to or in a relationship with a non-Jewish person, those who grew up secular or just not very observant, those who didn’t get a traditional Jewish education (Hebrew school, bar/bat mitzvah, etc). I want to hear from you! And I want you to know that Judaism is yours, that your have every right to it, that your voice and your concerns and are important and relevant and should (must!) be part of this discussion.
I deliberately attempted to include alienated Jews. Several people said that they weren’t sure if they were “Jewish enugh” for the conversation, and every single one was welcomed both by me and by the other participants. You would be welcomed , too.
If you have suggestions about how I could I have more inclusive, I would be happy to listen.
Flash, thanks for your response to Megan.
Megan, I know the way I’ve done this hasn’t been perfect, but having seen how painful and unproductive 101-pile-ons and other such derails can be, I honestly believe that limiting the discussion as I did is the best way to have useful conversations, especially when dealing with a huge readership like that of Feministe. Maybe it’s never been done on Feministe before, but as a guest-blogger I was given explicit permission to moderate threads however I choose. This is a technique I use on my blog, and it works for me, and I believe it could be really helpful for others, too. I think the quality of these threads is a testament to how useful such a policy is.
I’m sorry you’ve endured bullshit during what should be a time for joy and celebration. Yes, others, including me, have had similar experiences — these threads are my attempt to alleviate that. I’m sorry if they haven’t been helpful to you, but they’ve meant a tremendous amount to me and, I believe, to others.
Daisy,
I’ve really enjoyed reading your posts, and the comment threads have been incredibly illuminating. I’m in a situation that sounds similar to Megan’s, as I am about to marry my best friend and love, who is Jewish. Hearing the perspectives of how others see Judaism and Jewish culture is invaluable to me–not from a 101 place, but from someone who is trying to figure out how to create a household that is as embracing of Jewish history, religion and culture as it is of my own, Catholic religion and culture. I agree with and respect your decision to limit the discussion to those who have a stake in the future of Judaism and Jewish culture, and I recognize that the perspective of outsiders is not the point. I wonder, though, if you would welcome those of us who do have a stake in said future, despite our own cultural and religious identification. In any case, I look forward to reading (if not participating in) future discussions.