Why I am a Conservative Jew

Why I am a Conservative Jew
Rabbi Aaron Starr

I recently read Jesse Arm’s blog post, Why I’m Now a Former Conservative Jew (http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/usy-decision-leaves-some-conservative-youth-feeling-abandoned/).. Like Jesse, I too grew up in Metro Detroit and I too have the University of Michigan on my resume. Unlike Mr. Arm, however, I grew up in the Reform movement. I received rabbinical ordination at the Reform movement’s seminary, and served as a Reform rabbi for four years. I am a husband and father. I chose to become a Conservative Jew and a Conservative rabbi, and I believe that Conservative Judaism holds the key to the survival of liberal Judaism in the 21st century.

I became a Conservative Jew because Conservative Judaism provides a philosophy and practice that is intellectually rich and spiritually fulfilling. Adaptations to modernity are made only after careful thought and study. We are proudly egalitarian and open to gays and lesbians within our community. We are also proudly observant of the mitzvot and committed to the halakhic process.

Furthermore, as our tradition teaches, we respect each and every individual. Yet we also affirm that there are times when the preservation of Judaism trumps the desires of the individual Jew. As such, Conservative rabbis are educated and empowered to halt liberalisms when they pose a true threat to the Jewish future; the Rabbinical Assembly’s prohibition against intermarriage and the affirmation of the traditional definition of who is a Jew are two such examples.

I became a Conservative Jew because it demands of us a journey toward a Torah-observant life that incorporates the wisdom of scientific discoveries, just as Maimonides taught a thousand years ago. Conservative Judaism sets for us a path toward a meaningful, joyful life of expressing deep gratitude for life’s blessings and of fulfilling our obligations to make this world a better place.

I also became a Conservative Jew because I want the very best for my children: I want them to be conversant in traditional Judaism while open to the rigorous historical study and modern interpretation thereof. I want my children to lead a life of meaning, spirituality and purpose, guided by mitzvot, while fully functional in the modern world. I want my children to recognize that sometimes we have to sacrifice aspects of our autonomy for the sake of strengthening community, and that everybody is richer when we give of ourselves. And, more than anything, I want my kids to connect to God with the passion with which USYers davven; to study sacred Jewish texts with the fervor with which those teens learn; and to care for each other and the world the way the USYers do.

USY: Imperfect, perhaps; Significant, for sure.
Recently, the youth leaders of Conservative Judaism decided to re-write the articles governing the ethics of dating for USY regional and international officers. I agree with Mr. Arm and others that the new language, like that of all constitutions, is indeed sufficiently vague so as to require interpretation. It is no surprise to me that some understand the new language to permit inter-dating, a behavior previously prohibited by the teens themselves.

The new language of the USY constitution proclaims that the youth leaders, as dugma-ot (role models) to the entire USY membership, “will strive to model healthy Jewish dating choices. These include recognizing the importance of dating within the Jewish community and treating each person with the recognition that they were created Betzelem Elohim (in the image of God).” I wish that the authors of the new constitutional language simply would have stated: “These (that is, the healthy Jewish dating choices) include recognizing the importance of dating Jews …” I wish they would have been clearer, but in the positive language they so desire, that they are maintaining their stance against inter-dating.

After all, while many of us know anecdotes to the contrary, the statistics on intermarriage are clear with regard to its impact on Jewish practice, Jewish identity, and the future of the Jewish people. Inter-dating leads to intermarriage, and intermarriage threatens the future of the Jewish people. [See, for example, (http://mosaicmagazine.com/essay/2014/11/the-pew-survey-reanalyzed.] As a rabbi, I openly share this information with my teens – not to frighten them, but to make them aware of the potentially devastating consequences of the choices they (might) make.

Thus, certainly the expression “dating within the Jewish community” will require the current leadership to communicate with the future leadership exactly what that means. It will also allow or even force the future leadership to define for itself what the terms “dating” and “Jewish community” mean. Is the relationship of a matrilineal Jew with a Jew of patrilineal descent (who is not “Jewish” according to traditional Jewish standards) considered acceptable? How does one define “dating?” These and other questions will require explication and the continued wisdom of USY’s adult, and especially rabbinic, advisors.

But the additional language within the clause on inter-dating is significant. Given the complexities of dating in the 21st century that result from “sexting,” the misuse of Facebook and other social-media sites, and other complicating factors of being a teen in the 21st century, I am thrilled that our teens will strive for “healthy dating choices.” Such decisions will encourage teens to find other teens who are committed to making appropriate physical, spiritual, and moral choices, thereby reinforcing positive behavior that will, God-willing, create “healthy” Jewish families down the road. It is a credit to our youth and adult leadership that Conservative Judaism seeks to educate our children as to behaviors that will keep them protected and safe.

Moreover, demonstrating the Conservative movement’s belief that Jewish values can and should impact every aspect of our lives, our teens also set the goal of treating every individual “in the image of God.” Interpersonal relationships matter; how we treat each other matters; and Judaism is clear on this point. Yet, it is interesting that the traditional Jewish world is quick to criticize those who “weaken” observance of the mitvot ben adam l’makom (ritual commandments), but for some reason we are willing to accept those who fail to practice the mitzvot ben adam lachaveiro (commandments governing how we treat other people). Conservative Judaism affirms that just as kashrut and observance of Shabbat are important, so too is the commitment to treating each person with the recognition that the divine sparks are present in all of us.

Similarly, our teens affirmed a commitment to avoiding lashon hara (gossip and slander), as well as a zero tolerance to bullying. The teens re-affirmed their commitment to Shabbat observance, regular attendance at worship services, kashrut, and avoiding alcohol and drug abuse. In their commitment to the ethical and ritual commandments and values of the Jewish people, the teen leaders of USY are not only dugma-ot to their fellow USYers, but to all leaders within the Jewish community.

A Bright Future for Conservative Judaism

A couple months ago, my synagogue—Metro Detroit’s Congregation Shaarey Zedek—hosted a regional USY kinnus (convention). The teens, males and females together, prayed and danced with ruach the full Shabbat liturgy: evening, morning, and afternoon. They studied various aspects of Torah and rabbinic literature in depth. They kept kosher. They cared for and supported each other. Moreover, they sought to bring tikkun (repair) to our world and to uplift all those who are in need.

Unfortunately, USY’s stance toward interfaith dating may now require further explanation. We all ought to bear in mind though, that after all, it was teens who wrote the language. However, after watching those same teens not long ago, my belief was reaffirmed that USY is an organization of which I would be proud and supportive if my young children were to grow up to be leaders therein. It is also no surprise that, with USY as well as the Ramah camping system, Conservative Judaism has and will continue to produce some of our country’s greatest Jewish leaders — because of the movement’s commitment to Judaism and to modernity, and because of its rabbis’ stance toward intermarriage and its definition of who is a Jew. To put it simply: USY, Ramah and Conservative Judaism are good, and are necessary, for the future of the Jewish people.

In fact, such ruach, Talmud Torah, and commitment to kavod and tikkun olam are values to which every sacred community should aspire. That we have it, right here, in Conservative Judaism is exactly why I became a Conservative Jew and a Conservative rabbi, and why Conservative Judaism has a long, bright future ahead.

Parashat Chukat D'var Torah

Scott and I became good friends in elementary school. While we were much closer when we were younger, we nevertheless retained a friendship through high school. He was one of those guys willing to do anything for a laugh, and, well, he always succeeded in that with me. I ran into him at Somerset just a couple years ago. We chatted long enough to accept each other as Facebook friends that evening, and more or less kept up with each other through social media.

Bonnie and I became fast friends in high school. We were in all the same classes, she dated a friend of mine, and it was not long before we were traveling in the same social circle. We both attended the University of Michigan, and I remember relying on each other freshman year during some of those homesick days in one's first year away at college. She was a good friend, with a wonderful sense of humor, keen sense of right and wrong, and she truly celebrated life in all that she did. Bonnie and I too drifted apart after college graduation--she remained in Michigan for law school and I moved to Jerusalem for rabbinical school. But, thanks to that modern invention of Facebook, she and I--like Scott and me--were able to stay connected.

This spring, quite suddenly, both Scott and Bonnie died. Scott succumbed to complications from diabetes and Bonnie lost her fight with cancer. They were both 36. Though it has been years since I've had a meaningful relationship with either of them, losing them has affected me deeply. The stark reminders of the fragility of life and of the shortness of life have been bitter pills to swallow. I've worked hard in recent weeks to reach out anew to friends from high school and to tell them how much the wonderful memories we share continue to enrich my life. I've tried to hug my family tighter, to be even more grateful for the blessings which God has showered upon me, and to reach out more significantly to those in need. The tragic deaths of Scott and Bonnie are significant reminders that I need to live my life even more fully.

In our Torah Parashat Chukat, our ancestors, in the fortieth year from their Exodus from Egypt and not long from the Promised Land, lose both the prophetess Miriam and the High Priest Aaron. Miriam's death is juxtaposed with the strange story of the Red Heifer: an animal whose ashes come to render pure anyone who has been in contact with a corpse or items in proximity of a corpse. Recognizing the Red Heifer's strange juxtaposition with "Miriam died there [in Kadesh, in the Wilderness of Zin] and was buried there" (Numbers 20:1), the Talmud comes to teach, "Just as the ashes of the red cow atone for sin, the death of a righteous person does the same" (BT MK 28a). To this the Etz Hayim chumash adds, "In the wake of a good person's death, we are moved to re-examine our own lives" (pg. 883).

Scott and Bonnie did not die so that I could live my life more fully. But in their death, and my sadness, I am reminded of life's shortness and fragility. Miriam and Aaron, the leaders of our people, did not die so that our ancestors could become reflective. But if the Israelites in their time, and we in our time, do not seize this opportunity to reflect on the meaning of righteousness and the importance of deepening our journey toward holiness, then a true opportunity will have been missed. Tragedies do not occur, I believe, so that we will learn. But tragedies do occur, and we must learn from them. This is why, I believe, the Torah recounts so specifically the deaths of Aaron and Miriam: every year we must re-examine our own lives.

During this week of Parashat Chukat in which we mourn the deaths of Miriam and Aaron, Scott and Bonnie, and we consider the loss of our own family and friends over the years, may God bless us with keen insight and wisdom that comes from deep reflection ... and may God bless us all with life and with peace.

Shabbat Shemini 2013

My first stop was the Dunkin' Donuts on Greenfield, and then I double-backed to the Bagel Factory at Twelve Mile and Telegraph. Since I was there anyway, I made a third stop as well: Starbucks. Thus began the first full day after Passover for this rabbi, husband and father. I called it Yom Chametz--the day for eating anything and everything we could not eat the previous eight days. Abba was happy. Eema was happy. And, perhaps most important of all, the children were extraordinarily happy. We, "somewhat" like our ancestors, had experienced going from slavery to freedom.

Why is it that at Passover time, more Jews celebrate their Judaism than any other time of the year? The statistics back it up, and of course, there are a number of reasons. I wonder if, then, in addition to the classic foods and the in-home, family-oriented Seder experience, so many Jews celebrate Passover because, subconsciously, we know there is meaning and power to giving something up. Perhaps it is through that giving something up (in the case of Passover, chametz) we become much more aware and appreciative of the tremendous blessings we have in our lives.

This week we read in the Torah Parashat Sh'mini. Our parashah comes to lay out for us the basic laws of Kashrut: permissible and forbidden animals of the land, sea and air. The "whys" of keeping kosher are few and far between, summarized by God's declaration (Lev. 11:44-45): "For I am the LORD your God-you shall sanctify yourselves and you will be holy, for I am holy; and you shall not contaminate your souls ... for I am the LORD Who elevates you from the land of Egypt to be a God unto you; you shall be holy, for I am holy." Non-kosher food, therefore, contaminates our soul and its consumption inhibits our holiness. Why? Ultimately, because God said so. But in avoiding these types of foods, the rewards are, apparently, heavenly.

We made it through Passover and, hopefully, found deep meaning and satisfaction in 1) the accomplishment and 2) the symbolism of avoiding chametz. For eight days, we felt what it was like to make personal sacrifices and thereby gain deeper holiness and purpose. As we now consider the laws of kashrut--a lifetime system of partaking and avoiding, let us also seek the great holiness and sense of purpose that comes with self-sacrifice and heeding God's word. And, like Passover, let us use our own self-sacrifice to remember those who are truly in need many more than eight days out of the year: the poor, the widow and the orphan. Let us commit ourselves to providing for their most basic needs, because we really only had a small taste of what it is like to go "without."

Rebecca, Caleb and Ayal join me in wishing you a Sabbath of holiness, rest and re-Jew-venation.

A Passover Message from Rabbi Aaron Starr

I love when modern research reinforces the brilliance of Jewish tradition. In this past Sunday’s New York Times (“The Stories that Bind Us,” 3/17/13), best-selling author Bruce Feiler explores research that reveals an overwhelming conclusion: “The more children know about their family’s history, the stronger their sense of control over their lives, the higher their self-esteem and the more successfully they believed their families functioned.” The researchers explained that children who have the most self-confidence have a strong “intergenerational self.” That is to say, “They know they belong to something bigger than themselves.”

Monday night begins the holiday of Pesach. Families and friends around the world will come together for sedarim (plural of seder), sharing familiar songs, stories, and food. Through these often intergenerational experiences, family journeys and experiences are told or re-told. Of course, at the core of each seder lies the re-telling of the history of the Jewish people. "My father was a wandering Aramean,” we read in Deuteronomy 26:5-10, “and he went down into Egypt with a few people and lived there and became a great nation, powerful and numerous. But the Egyptians mistreated us and made us suffer, subjecting us to harsh labor. Then we cried out to the LORD, the God of our ancestors, and the LORD heard our voice and saw our misery, toil and oppression. So the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror and with signs and wonders. He brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey…” In this way, we fulfill our Torah-based mitzvah to teach our children about the Jewish people’s salvation through God’s awesome might and power. Moreover, through sharing our family’s history, we provide our children a strong sense of identity and confidence that empowers them to face the great challenges of life.

The article goes on to explain that the most helpful family narratives are those that are honest about ups and downs over the years. “When faced with a challenge,” Feiler writes, “happy families, like happy people, just add a new chapter to their life story that shows them overcoming the hardship. This skill is particularly important for children, whose identity tends to get locked in during adolescence.” This is the way of the Jewish people: throughout the generations, life gave us great challenges; with God’s help in partnership with human wisdom and innovation, we overcame those challenges to create a bright future for ourselves. And, frankly, this is the ultimate lesson of Passover as well. Oh, and by the way, Feiler also adds, “the hokier the family’s tradition … the more likely it is to be passed down.” And that’s just good advice for making a Passover seder great!

This Passover, may we immerse ourselves in the traditions of the Jewish people, full of joy and meaning, but also giving our children an inner strength to overcome life’s obstacles. As Feiler concludes: “The bottom line: if you want a happier family, create, refine and retell the story of your family’s positive moments and your ability to bounce back from the difficult ones. That act alone may increase the odds that your family will thrive for many generations to come.” Kein y’hi ratzon, May this be God’s will.

Rebecca, Caleb and Ayal join me in wishing you Shabbat shalom and chag kasher v’sameach.

What is Tu B'Shvat?

It's always funny to celebrate the holiday Tu B'Shvat (15th day of the Hebrew month Shvat) in Michigan. After all, it's below 0 here! How can we be talking about the birthday of the trees?

The Mishnah, the Jewish law book written by rabbis between the 2nd c. BCE and the 2nd c. CE, declares, "There are four 'New Year' days: on the 1st of Nisan is the New Year for kings and feasts; on the 1st of Elul is the New Year for the Tithe of Cattle; on the 1st of Tishrei is the New Year for [the reckoning of] years, o fhte Years of Release and Jubilee years, for the planting [of trees] and for vegetables; and the 1st of Shevat is the New Year for [fruit-]trees (so the School of Shammai taught; and the School of Hillel says: On the 15th thereof)" (Mishnah Rosh HaShanah 1:1).

Thus we see the source explanation for Rosh HaShanah--the 1st of Tishrei--being the New Year for years (i.e., the birthday of the world) and the 15th of Shvat--Tu B'Shvat--the birthday of trees. Just as in our own day and age we have multiple New Years (Rosh Hashanah, start of school, January 1, for example) so too do we have multiple times in our Jewish Year that we take stock of our lives. Are we caring for the earth in the way we must? Are we avoiding wastefulness (Jewish value called bal tashchit) and being responsible for our actions?

I read once that we do not inherit the earth from our parents; we borrow it from our children. As we come to celebrate Tu B'Shvat this coming Shabbat, let us remember to do our part to be a steward of the earth. Consider planting a tree in Israel to celebrate Tu B'Shvat, as well as to honor your child's Jewish learning or to remember the legacy of a loved one: www.jnf.org.

Parashat Va-era: Facebook Advice

The Facebook phenomenon never ceases to humor me. I often call it the Shep Nachas site, as so many of my friends are posting about their children's various successful accomplishments, deep insights, or laughable foibles. In November of election years it becomes the site where people are given a much broader voice to air their political opinions than they might otherwise have. And, more recently, I have watched it also because a strange "virtual" support group for people who have suffered losses, injuries, or illnesses. It is in so many ways a "real" community, and in so many ways anything but a "real" community.

Sometimes I wonder too if Facebook had existed in biblical times what it would have looked like. Would Egypt have been spared the Plagues we read about in this week's Torah portion, Parashat Va-era, if after the first plague (blood) Facebook would have lit up with Egyptian complaints? Or, similarly, would Moses have Tweeted the Exodus (#letmypeoplego, "We're marching now!")? Are Facebook and other social media sites today similar or greater than the bully pulpit of yesteryear?

In our Torah portion this week, at Moses' request, God assigns Aaron to accompany Moses before Pharaoh because Moses was "aral s'fatayim-of sealed (actually, "uncircumcised") lips" (Ex. 6:12 and Ex. 6:30). From this notion comes the midrash with which many of us are familiar that, protected by an angel, the child Moses put a burning-hot coal in his mouth rather than a piece of gold, lest Pharaoh think that Moses were after his throne. Or, perhaps Moses did not feel that he had the right to speak before Pharaoh, or the oratorical skills, or that for a variety of other reasons it should have been someone else's role. Whatever the reason, God responds to Moses, "Behold, I have made you as a god before Pharaoh and Aaron, your brother, as your prophet" (Ex. 7:1). Through this interesting statement, we understand that God chooses not to speak aloud in this world; rather, He speaks exclusively through His chosen messengers. As such, Aaron became Moses' spokesperson to the Egyptian monarch and pleaded our ancestors' case before Pharaoh.

Because of the various 21st century social media outlets, each of us today has a much stronger voice than we might otherwise possess. Though we may at times perceive of ourselves in "real" life to be like Moses, "of sealed lips," in reality, each of us is much more like Aaron: a prophet for what is right, for what is just, for what is holy. In this week of Parashat Va-era, may we use that God-given voice to pursue justice and to urge our friends, family, communities and politicians--to live lives of true meaning and purpose. May we be the disciples of Aaron who, as Pirke Avot teaches us, should be "lovers of peace and pursuers of peace."

Newspaper Fails to Accurately Report Middle East Conflict (Yet Again)

I opened the Detroit Free Press this morning and saw the bold headline, “Israeli tanks hit Syrian launcher; fears of regional conflict arise.” The article did report that the strike was in response to “a stray mortar shell [that] flew into Israeli-held territory, the first direct clash between the neighbors since the Syrian uprising began nearly two years ago” (Detroit Free Press, 11/13/12, 3a). Headlines are meant to grab attention, and this one indeed grabbed mine. But why did the headline not say, “Syrian President possibly trying to drag Israel into regional conflict”? Why did the headline not say, “Israel justifiably defends itself”? Or, perhaps more importantly, why has there been no headline in this newspaper for the last week revealing the fact that more than one hundred rockets have been sent from Hamas-controlled Gaza toward Israel? Why is the Free Press not reporting that Gaza militants (!!) are now asking of Israel a cease-fire so that Israel will not respond militarily? And why am I feeling certain that, if Israel chooses to defend its western board, somehow Israel will be labeled the aggressor in the situation? Why is it that, in recent decades, Israel always seems to get blamed for battles it did not start and accused of wars it hopes only to end?

In our Torah portion this week, Parashat Toldot, it would be easy to blame Israel as well. Israel—or as he was known at this point in Genesis, Jacob—sees that his brother Esau has no interest in the birthright that he, Esau, has inherited as the first-born son of Isaac and Rebecca. This was, of course, the very same birthright that Isaac inherited as the “rightful” son of Abraham: a product of Abraham’s special, unique covenant with God. The p’shat, or simple, plain meaning of the Torah text, suggests that Esau came back from the outdoors “ayyef.” In Modern Hebrew, ayyef connotes “tired,” but the Etz Hayim Chumash among others translates it as “famished”—in desperate need of food and drink. What did Jacob do? Rather than offer his famished brother nourishment, Jacob asks Esau to sell him the birthright. “I am at the point of death,” Esau responds, and conceded to Jacob’s demand of the birthright in exchange for food. It would seem, then, that Jacob practically “stole” the birthright from his brother.

Our rabbis, however, explain the text differently. They argue that a more nuanced-read suggests that Jacob understood his brother’s character—anger, faithlessness, trouble—and knew that he, Jacob, must act for the sake of God and their family’s descendants. Jacob valued the birthright far more than Esau ever did or would. And perhaps Jacob was told by his mother Rebecca of God’s revelation to her: “Two nations are in your womb, two separate peoples shall issue from your body; one people shall be mightier than the other, and the older shall serve the younger” (Gen. 25:23). We have to be very careful, our rabbis suggest, in only looking at a snippet of information; it might not reveal the whole picture. Jacob was surely the one intended to become Yisrael.

Like the story of Jacob and Esau, the Middle-East conflict has many layers and a long history; it is a complicated and centuries-old. What a shame that newspapers like the Free Press would use an attention-grabbing headline such as Tuesday’s or others that would convey half-truths and perpetuate broad misconceptions. Let us so work to educate our friends and our community to the whole picture of what is happening in the Land of Israel, so that no one will be misled by inaccurate snippets of information. And let us pray that the day will come soon when Israel, the country and the people, will live in both peace and security, and that every person—Jew and gentile, Israeli and Arab—will be able to sit under his vine and fig tree and none shall make them afraid.