M. Genack Ambiguity as Theology

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REVIEW ESSAYMenachem Genack

Rabbi Menachem Genack is rabbinic administrator of theKashruth Division of the Union of Orthodox Jewish Con-gregations of America, co-editior of the Torah journal

Mesorah, and Professor of Talmud at Touro College.

AMBIGUITY AS THEOLOGY:A REVIEW OF EMET V'EMUNA: STATEMENT OFPRINCIPLES OF CONSERVATIVE JUDAISM

The Conservative Movement in Judaism can be said to have begun in1845 when Zechariah Frankel walked out of a conference of Reformrabbis which had rejected his position on the use of Hebrew in worship.Thus, from its very beginnings, Conservative Judaism has been defined bywhat it was not: not Reform and not Orthodox. It was a disassociationfrom the liberal, non-halakhic view of Reform, as well as from the rigidityof which Orthodoxy was accused.

But such a "negative definition" is ultimately unsatisfying. In anattempt to formulate a cogent presentation of the theology of the move-ment, a joint commission of representatives of the Jewish TheologicalSeminary and the Rabbinical Assembly was established in 1985, withRobert Gordis, professor of Bible at the Seminary, as chairman. Thecommission was subsequently expanded to include lay representatives.Emet v'Emuna: Statement of Principles of Conservative Judaism is theresult. It is designed explicitly to address the prevailing view that theConservative movement has no ideology of its own. Kassel Abelson,president of the Rabbinic Assembly, candidly expresses this in his fore-word to the booklet:

Rabbis in particular were confronted frequently with the question, "What docsConservative Judaism stand for'? Implicit in the question was the widespread beliefthat Conservative Judaism is simply a vague, undefined middle ground betweenOrthodoxy and Reform, with no philosophy of its own. It can he argued that, in thetwentieth century, this lack of defnition was quite useful and had practical benefits,since the majority of American Jews wished to be neither Orthodox nor Reform,and found a comfortable niche within the Conservative movement. But the situationhas changed radically in the last several decades. Orthodoxy, which had beenwidely dismissed as moribund, has assertively come back to life, and is generally

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characterized by an aggressive ideology which denies the legitimacy of non-Orthodox approaches to Judaism. On the other hand, the Reform movement hasbecome increasingly militant, and has been seeking to spell out a philosophy of itsown. In our day, it is no longer suffcient to define Conservative Judaism by what itis not.

Has the Conservative movement finally defined itself? That such anoutcome was unlikely is already evident from Abelson's foreword. Heinforms us that although the Commission was initially designed to be aforum for those with scholarly credentials, such as rabbis and academi-cians, it was soon enough joined by lay representatives of the UnitedSynagogue, Women's League, Federation of Jewish Men's Clubs, theCantor's Assembly, and the Jewish Educators' Assembly.

What motivated the inclusion of lay people in such an endeavor?Was it merely the benign realization that lay input was essential fordefining a philosophy for rabbis and congregants alike, as Abelson sug-gests? From the foreword of Franklin Kreutzer, president of the UnitedSynagogue, it is apparent that there were other considerations. Kreutzer(who, it should be noted, had insisted that the delegation that met withPope John Paul II in 1988 include not only rabbis but laymen) writes inhis Foreword:

In light of our strong commitment to the active role of the laity within the spectrumof our movement, the United Synagogue leadership felt an urgent need for layinvolvement. Therefore, we formally requested to be part of the process, to helpdevelop an ideological statement that would be held and lived by rabbi andcongregant alike. After a period of negotiation, it was agreed that there would be sixlay members in the Commission.

Whatever the motivation, the initial intention not to include laymenand the subsequent decision to incorporate them in the Commission issignificant. One would have thought that the "Ani Ma-amin" of theConservative movement would have been the result of the thinking ofrabbis steeped in scholarship, determined to define rigorously its funda-mental principles and philosophy. Unfortunately, it is the organizational-political dimension, rather than the philosophical one, which permeatesthis document. It is less a document of conviction than of convention, lessa reflection of transcendent philosophical truths and aspirations than ofsociological facts.

The Commission would argue that the representation of the layconstituency is a reflection of the basic Conservative concept of halakhahas not static, but as evolving and developing to meet ever-changing needs.Yet this is inconsistent with the movement's own stated mechanism fordealing with change.

Each individual cannot be empowered to make changes in the law, for that wouldundermine its authority and coherence; only the rabbinic leaders of the community,

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because of their knowledge of the content, aims and methods of Halakhah, areauthorized by Jewish tradition to make the necessary changes, although they mustkeep the customs and needs of the community in mind as they deliberate. Cp. 23)

Additionally, as enunciated in the section entitled "Authority forMaking Decisions in Halakhah," we read:

The rich tradition which we possess depends upon the scholarship, integrity andpiety of our leadership and laity. For religious guidance, the Conservative move-ment looks to the scholars of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America andother institutions of higher learning. The United Synagogues of America, theWomen's League for Conservative Judaism, and the Federation of Jewish Men'sClubs, represent the human resources of lay people of our community. (pp. 24-25)

The two citations are hard to square. On particular issues of halakhahand religious practice, guidance is sought from the rabbinate exclusive ofthe laity. Yet the establishment of an overall philosophy of halakhah andreligion, which is the source for the particulars, rests jointly with therabbinate and the laity.

Because of this fundamental ambiguity, Emet v'Emuna reflects aconstant blurring of the differences between the philosophical and theorganizational components of the Conservative movement. The mostblatant example of this is in the paragraph which endorses the strengthen-ing of umbrella groups.

We are well aware of the shortcomings of organizational Jewish life in NorthAmerica today. Nevertheless, we want to strengthen such organizations whichinclude the Synagogue Council of America, the various Boards of Rabbis, theConference of Presidents of Major American Jewish organizations, the Boards ofJewish Education, the national and local Jewish Community Councils, the Federa-tion network, the United Jewish Appeal, the Israel Bonds organization, and othergroups that seek to rise above religious differences in working for the welfare of all

Jews. (p. 41)

Though one may consider these organizations to be of great impor-tance in the contemporary Jewish community, it is unclear how they areconnected to a statement of philosophy and purpose of a religious move-ment. The document discusses, in the same context, views of God,revelation, eschatology, and Israel Bonds. This is more than incongruous;it weakens the document's claim to be a serious formulation of principlesof faith.

The crux of the problems which are endemic within the Conservativemovement is found in this citation:

As in the past, the nature and number of adjustments of the law will vary with thedegree of change in the environment in which Jews live. The rapid technologicaland social change of our time, as well as new ethical insights and goals, haverequired new interpretations and applications of Halakhah to keep it vital for ourtives. (p. 23)

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What this overlooks is one seminal fact: the essence of the concept ofhalakhah is that God, in His love for man, revealed an objective truth toguide and mold human life, a truth transcending specific environmentsand fashions. It is that law which is designed to saturate human life with apervasive God-consciousness. The Conservative eagerness to make hala-khah conform to the norms of a particular society and its current values isnot only unseemly. It transforms halakhah from a transcendent truth,intended to shape and mold man, into a reflection of man which fluctuateswith the perceived social or ethical standards of the moment. Once thishappens, the center of gravity is shifted from God to man. The integrity ofthe law is shattered, with absurd conclusions following in the wake-suchas the dispensation for congregants to drive to synagogue on Sabbath, in a

vain attempt to preserve a sacred moment in time by desecrating thatmoment. Inevitably, such a "halakhah" represents not only a failure offaith but a failure of reason. An evolving and developing halakhah is self-contradictory, for it is no halakhah at alL.

At times, the Statement raises ambiguity and doubt to a moralimperative.

. . . Judaism had rarely sought to formulate a system of beliefs; even Maimonideshad not succeeded in winning universal acceptance for his Thirteen Principles, the

"Ani Ma-amin." Judaism unconsciously had long acted on the principles, for betterthe blurring of differences than the burning of dissidents. (p. 9)

This frames a document of doubt, not of faith, a system of belief indisbelief.

The fact is that Maimonides's Thirteen Principles are all derivedfrom the Talmud and the classic Jewish tradition, and were never indispute. What was under discussion was not the truth of the Principles, butonly whether they were fundamental enough to be categorized as ikkarim,

principles of faith. The ikkarim serve as the foundation of our faith,defining the coordinate system of our religion. Yet, in the ConservativeStatement we read:

One can live fully and authentically as a Jew without having a single satisfactoryanswer to such doubts; one cannot, however, live a thoughtful Jewish life withouthaving asked the questions, "Does God exist? If so, what sort of being is God?Does God have a plan for the universe'!" (p. 17)

This contradicts the halakhic view that faith in God must be absoluteand total. (Throughout Yesodei haTorah and Hi/khat Avoda Zara, Ram-bam is quite clear about faith requirements.)

As promulgated in Emet v'Emuna, Conservative Judaism's philoso-phy militates against true faith, as if it would be arrogant to be certainabout anything. The standard of faith is thus gauged by the contemporaryenvironment of doubt and confusion. It is the standard of the Women'sLeague and the Men's Club, not of classical Jewish thought and existence.

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One has the distinct feeling that the overriding concern of thisStatement is to recognize the dynamics within the Conservative move-ment, and to avoid exacerbating existing differences which might fracturethe movement even more than it already is. (Ismar Schorsch, the Chancel-

lor of the Jewish Theological Seminary, says as much in his own Fore-word: "The final product reaffrms not only the wil to preserve the unityof the movement but also the genuine consensus which prevails in itsranks.") Thus, in the most critical religious concepts-God, eternity ofthe soul, good and evil-we find two or more positions presented, some ofthem diametrically opposed to each other. "Belief in God means faith thata supreme, supernatural being exists and has the power to command andcontrol the world through His wil," but "some view the reality of God

differently. . . not (as) a being to whom we can point. He is, instead,present when we look for meaning in the world, when we work formorality, justice, and future redemption. . ." (p. 18).

Similarly, there are several options on Revelation. "The singlegreatest event in the history of God's revelation took place at Sinai. . . ."But while some believe that this was a "personal encounter between Godand human beings, and . . . that God communicated with us in actualwords," you need not feel uncomfortable with this, because "othersbelieve that Revelation consists of an ineffable human encounter withGod" which "inspires the verbal formulation by human beings of normsand ideas. . . ." If neither formulation is acceptable, there is yet anotherchoice: "Others among us conceive of Revelation as continuing discov-ery, through nature and history, of truths about God and the world. Thesetruths, although culturally conditioned, are seen as God's ultimate purposefor creation. Proponents of this view tend to see revelation as an ongoingprocess rather than as a specific event" (p. 20). This is a tragi-comic

fulfillment of the old joke which ends with: "You are right; you are right;you are also right."

One hardly expects minority planks in the articulation of the centralreligious principles upon which Judaism stands. Surely it is plain thatacross-the-board, either/or multiple-choice positions ultimately are nopositions at alL. One finds oneself yearning for an unequivocal, "This iswhere we stand; this is what we believe in." The fact is that even in a non-traditional approach to Judaism it is theoretically possible to demonstrateconsistency, depth, originality, and tightness of argument. When individ-

uals who have abundant intellectual gifts lend their imprimatur to adocument marked by bromides and platitudes, one is finally convincedthat failure to address major issues in a forthright manner is endemic andinevitable in the Conservative movement which wishes to be "middle-of-the-road" and prides itself on consensus.

The discussion of good and evil, for example, reveals most starklythis inability to come to grips with serious issues of faith. The authors

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write: "The existence of evil has always provided the most serious

impediment to faith. Given the enormity of the horror represented byAuschwitz and Hiroshima, this dilemma has taken on a new, terrifyingreality in our generation" (p. 25).

Even if we were to overlook the moral obtuseness of the concessionto the prevailing intellectual fashion of pairing the Holocaust withHiroshima-as if there were some moral equivalency between the two-the statement is revealing. The problem of evil and the suffering of therighteous, though not new, is especially intractable for Conservativeideology. The Talmud (Kidushin 40b) teaches that the suffering of therighteous in this world is redeemed in the world to come, and, conversely,that any this-worldly success of the evil-doer is rectified and counter-

balanced in a future life. Olam Habba, the world-to-come, is an integralpart of the world-view of classical Judaism. Thus, there exists at least amechanism and a conceptual frame for thinking about the problem of eviL.But for this statement, whose eschatology (at least in one of its severalversions) sees Olam Habba merely as a utopian age, there is no instru-ment for ultimate reward and punishment. Sekhar v' onesh, reward and

punishment, which is basic to Jewish thought, hardly exists in the Conser-vative lexicon.

The classic Jewish approach to the problem of theodicy, of course, isthat, given a concomitant belief in God, the way to a resolution pointsinexorably towards a future world. The righting of the scales is there. ButEmet v'Emuna has diffculty even defining Olam Habba, much lesstreating it as a reality. Thus:

This goal, the Prophet called" aharit hayamim," "the days to come." The rabbisused several terms; Glam Habba (the age, not world, to come), Atid Lava (thedestined future) and Yernot HaMashiach (the days of the Messiah who is designatedto usher in the redemptive era). (p. 28)

The fetish about defining Olam as "age" rather than "world" is notsimply etymology or semantics; it represents a view of Olam Habbawhich is inconsistent with the basic teachings of Judaism.

For according to classical Jewish thought, the period of Mashiah andOlam Habba is not one and the same period, but represent differentepochs. The Messiah indeed acts within the limits of this historical world.Olam Habba, however, is a world of pure spirituality, where the immortalsoul is in constant communion with the splendor of God's presence. Thisis not merely figurative language, but a metaphysical reality.

Unfortunately, even on this critical tenet of our faith the Statement isstrikingly ambivalent, presenting-inevitably-two opposing views. Oneof these views, dealing with the immortality of the soul and the resurrec-tion of the dead, even suggests: ". . . we know that our genetic makeup

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wil persist through our progeny, long after our deaths and s long as

humankind survives" (p. 3D). Such platitudes present ludicrous possi-bilities. For if our immortality is coextensive with the continuation of ourgenetic code, then the Nazi butchers and their innocent victims share the

same immortality. In fact, the Nazi persecutor likely is more blessed, inthat so many of his victims left no progeny at alL. The other suggestion

about immortality of the soul-that the influence of some people remainspotent even after their death, and that their memory endures-is equallybeside the point. Clearly, in the Conservative movement, the concept ofthe immortality of the soul is not immortal, but quite finite-and has diedan early and earthly death.

Equally troubling is the Conservative view of a Messianic age which

does not necessarily entail the person of a messiah. It is, rather, theconclusion of an evolutionary process leading to a utopian society. Thisfaith in man's ability to gradually establish a world of peace, justice, andtranquility as the natural culmination of history is touching, but in thesedecades after Auschwitz, hardly rooted in fact. Henry Adams once com-mented that the progression of American Presidents from Washington toGrant disproves the theory of evolution. Certainly this bloodiest andcruelest of centuries should have buried the notion of the inexorable

advancement of man as a civil, social, and moral being.Often, what is not said is as significant as what is said. One looks in

vain, in the discussion dealing with the concept of a chosen people, for thephrase kedushat Yisrael. This is no coincidence. The Statement refuses toendorse the classic Jewish concept that this convenantal people attainssanctity, kedushat Yisrael, and that Israel is therefore existentially differ-ent from other people.

Even the exclusiveness of the relationship between God and theJewish people is rejected. "Theological humility requires us to recognizethat although we have but one God, God has more than one nation"(p. 43). This clever footwork contradicts the clear reading of Scripture andour entire tradition. Though God acts through great individual Biblicalfigures prior to the emergence of a Jewish nation, subsequent to AbrahamHe acts only through Abraham's descendants, the Jewish people. (Thisview is best articulated and developed in Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi's classicKuzari.) The current dispute about halakhic standards for conversion isthus not limited merely to the form and details of the ritual conversion,and the commitment to mitzvot. It is fundamentally about the essence ofconversion itself, for conversion means that the convert attains kedushatYisrael When he emerges from the waters of the mikvah, he has beencompletely transformed, kekatan shenolad, as a newborn babe. It is notpossible simultaneously to hold both to a relativistic universalism and tothe ontological reality of kedushat Yisrael. One of the horns has to bereleased.

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The unbridled universalism embraced by the Conservative move-ment comes to the fore in the discussion dealing with relations with otherreligions.

We eschew triumphalism with respect to other ways of serving God. MaImonideshelieved that other monotheistic faiths-Christianity and Islam-serve to spreadknowledge of, and devotion to, the God and Torah of Israel throughout the world.Many modern thinkers, hoth Jewish and gentile, have noted that god may well haveseen fit to enter covenants with many nations. Either outlook when relating to othersis perfectly compatible with a commitment to one's own faith and pattern ofreligious life. (p. 43)

This extraordinarily tolerant view attributed to Maimonides is a

serious misrepresentation of his views. More than any other classicalJewish authority, Maimonides was most explicit in his view that Chris-tianity was not monotheistic and, because of its Trinitarian concept, waspolytheistic and therefore idolatrous. Maimonides in his Code (AvodaZara 9:4) in the uncensored text (Sefer Hamada, Mossad Horav Kuk1964, ed. Saul Lieberman) states: "Edomites worship Avoda Zara, andSunday is their religious holiday." Lieberman points out in his notes that"Edomim" is a euphemism for Christians. In Kapach's edition (p. 520)the original text actually reads not "Edomites" but "Christians." ThoughTosafot (Sanh. 63b) was interpreted according to some to be of the morelenient opinion that Trinitarianism did not constitute avoda zara, and inthis lenient view was joined by numerous other Jewish authorities-andwas accepted as normative according to R. Moshe Isserles (Rema, OrahHaim 156:1; Darke! Moshe, YD. 151)-it cannot be denied that accord-ing to Maimonides, (although not by other classical Jewish scholars), thedoctrine of the Trinity was clearly considered avoda zara.

The lenient view popularly attributed to Maimonides and repeated inEmet v'Emunah is undoubtedly based on Maimonides's statement in thecensored text of the Yad: "All the statements of Jesus the Christian andthe 1shmaelite (Mohammed) who lived after him were only intended toprepare a way for the King Messiah and to perfect the entire world toserve God together" (Melakhim 11).

Maimonides certainly did not intend by these words to ascribeveracity to Christianity or Islam. Firstly, Maimonides would never havesanctioned such a view, since he himself considered the practice of

Christianity to be a violation of the Noahide prohibition against idolatry,and therefore, forbidden even for Gentiles. This is clear from his preced-ing paragraph:

Even Jesus the Christian. . . had the illusion that he was Messiah. . . . Is there agreater impediment than this, for all the prophets stated that Messiah wil redeemand save Israel and will gather all those who have been scattered and wil strengthenthe observance of mitzvot, and he caused many Jews to be killed by the sword and

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to scatter their remnants and to humble them, to alter the Torah and to mislead themajority of the world into worshipping a god other than HaShem. Yet man does nothave the capacity to understand the thoughts of the Creator, for our ways are not Hisways and our thoughts are not His thoughts.

This is hardly a paean of praise to Christianity. Maimonides con-demns Christianity for both the physical harm it caused the Jewish peopleas well as what he considers the spiritual danger of its false faith.

Therefore, we must interpret the closing words of Maimonides not asa validation of Christianity or Islam, but rather as a historical observationthat these faiths developmentally set the stage for the ultimate truerecognition and service of God. Or, alternatively, Maimonides may meanthat the concept of the coming of Messiah was advanced by thesereligions. But by no means does Maimondies ascribe truth to them.!

It is clear that Emet v'Emuna presents a stereotypical view ofMaimonides. Because he was undoubtedly a "renaissance man," havingsignificantly advanced the science of medicine of his day; and because ofhis affnity for Aristotelian philosophy, it is assumed, withollt any basis infact, that in matters of faith he was a universalist. However, the reality isthat in many respects he is less catholic and more parochial than many ofthe classical Jewish scholars. Thus, Maimonides states:

Moses our teacher commanded in the name of the Almighty to subdue all humanityto accept the commandments which descended from Noah, and anyone who wouldnot accept them would be kiled, and one who accepts them is called a GeT Toshav.One who accepts the seven Noahidc commandments and is careful In their observ-ance is among the righteous gentiles and he has a share in the world to come. This isonly if one accepts them (the Seven Noahide Commandments) because Godcommanded them in the Torah and made them known through Moses, our teacher,that Noahides previously were commanded (to observe) them. However, if heobserves these commandments because of reason alone, he is not a Ger Toshav and

is not among the righteous gentiles, nor from their wise men. (Hilkhot Mclahim,end of chapter 8)2

Clearly, Maimonides requires that the seven Noahide command-ments be accepted and observed, not only out of notions of decency,reason or natural law, but because they were so commanded by Moses inthe Torah.' In any case, it should be obvious that an essential ingredient ofJewish dogma is the exclusivity of God's covenant with the Jewishpeople.

The word "pluralism" appears repeatedly in Emet v'Emuna, ele-vated almost to a catechism. But in the context of this Statement, "plural-ism" simply means that on any major principle of Judaism there is not asingle view, but pluralistic, multiple-choice view which is certain todisplease no one.

It is, of course, true that on certain theological issues more than onesingle position may be acceptable. But what is disturbing in this Statement

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is that apparently on every issue the authors find every view to belegitimate. Throughout, one persistent question hangs in the air: Whatviews are excluded, what opinions are unexplainable, what positions gobeyond the norms of Conservative Judaism and are simply not to bebrought within its framework? Are we living in that consumer paradisewhere everything is kosher? Pluralism as we find it here becomes abarren, empty slogan, devoid of all content, veiling many sins.

Emet v'Emuna offers no coherent or cohesive intellectual foundationfor the Conservative movement-even from a non-Orthodox standpoint.In its habit of offering, on every critical issue of faith, a menu of severalopposing positions, it calls to mind the words of one of the leaders of theFrench revolution who wanted to know the direction in which his peoplewere going, so he could lead them.

This cafeteria menu is clearly a product of consensus thinking, anamorphous "Emet" and a vague "Emuna." Its compass rests not in thedepths of Jewish learning, but in the constituency it wishes to please. In itsconscientious attempts to touch every base-believers and non-believers,observant and non-observant, those who have faith and those who areskeptics-it is redolent of a political platform. Thus, it is no surprise that

one looks in vain for intellectual rigor. Instead, one finds confusion and

self-doubt, and, after all is said and done, an impoverishment of religiousdiscourse.The intellectual, ideological, theological, and philosophical failure of

the Conservative movement-given the tremendous power, wealth, influ-ence, and numbers which it has enjoyed in America-is on public displayhere. This is unfortunate because in times of crisis and challenge, theJewish people yearns to transcend the now in order to glimpse the eternal,in the vision expressed by the Bedouin to Rabba bar Bar-Hana as the

place "where heaven and earth embrace in a kiss" (BB 74a). Unfor-tunately, in this Statement the transcendent has been taken hostage by thetemporal, the eternal by the ephemeral and ever-shifting sands of thepresent.

NOTES

1. In addition to the above-cited sources, it should be noted that Maimonidcs, in his Jetter,"Resurrection of the Dead," does 010 refer to Mohammed in the most glowing terms.

2. I explain the variant readings in this citation and why velo mehukhameha (rather than eiamehakhameha) is the preferred reading in Mesorah, No.1, April 1989, p. 5.

3. Rav Velvel Soloveilchik (in a letter at the end of Hidushei Maran Riz Halevi) interprets theRambam to mean that wIthout this acceptance, even without violating any of the seven 'Koahidecommandments, one is guilty of a capital offense. In other words, observing these command-ments because of universal, ethical considerations, is inadequate; the observance must be rootedin a Torah imperative.

The source for the position of Maimonides may be the well-known text in Avoda Zara (2b)which recounts how God offered the Torah not only to Israel, but to the other nations of the

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ancient world as well. When Esau is offered the Torah, they asked, "What is writtenTorah?" God responded, "Thou shalt not kil." The nation of ES3U, whose foundation is "By thesword shalt thou live," demurs and rejects the offer. Similarly, Ishmael rejects it, for it inthe prohibition against theft.

What is remarkable about this Aggadic description is that the commandments whi

objectionable to these various mitons are among the Noahide commandments which theycase were previously commanded. What was it n the Sinaitic revelation that added toprevious obligations? Apparently, concludes Maimonides, the obligation to observNoahide commandments was expended to impose a new obligation, not merely of phobservance, but also of a theological and intellectual acceptance of their new biblical

From this perspective, Maimonides would hardly view any religion--ivorced of the

commitment to Torah and the recognItion of the sinaitie obligation-as a source for spredevotion to God in the world.

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M. Genack Ambiguity as Theology