A LIFE OF MEANING

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE
SACRED PATH OF REFORM
JUDAISM
A SOURCE SHEET

Prepared by Jessica Kerman

and Rabbi Sonja K. Pilz, PhD

Lori Sagarin, RJE, consulting editor

Advisory Group:
Rabbi Nikki Lyn DeBlosi, PhD
Rabbi Peter S. Knobel, PhD
Rabbi Rachel S. Mikva, PhD
Source Sheet Session One
Rabbi Michael Marmur, PhD, “Speaking Truthfully about God”
A teaching usually attributed to the founder of the Chasidic movement, the Baal Shem Tov, notes that the
Amidah prayer begins in a curious manner:“Our God and God of our ancestors. . . .” Why does it
need to mention both ourselves and those who came before us? He concludes that there are two kinds
of people in the world. The “God of our fathers” camp concentrates on the concept of God provided by
tradition, while the “our God” people are engaged in their own search for a meaningful notion of
God. We say both parts of the blessing because one sensibility without the other is weak. If all we have
is tradition, we can become parrots repeating sentences we don’t understand or believe in. And if we
are constantly searching, we can be blown around by the winds of opinion, believing one thing today
and another tomorrow. By combining the two approaches, we can have both firm roots and high
aspirations.
So far I have described two ways of grappling with the truth of God. One is to delve within traditional
discussions, learning from the wisdom of what has come before us. Another is to ask what our best
understanding of morality, history, science, and society allows us to believe. The first approach scores
high points for grandeur and mystery, and it is rooted in humility and identity. The second approach is
all about honesty and integrity. (A Life of Meaning, p. 43)

Guiding questions:
• What does Rabbi Marmur mean when he says that the “first approach” (of tradition) is rooted in
humility and identity?
• What does Rabbi Marmur mean when he says that the “second approach” is all about honesty and
integrity?
• Rabbi Marmur advocates a search for meaning in Jewish life that begins not with “me and my personal
experiences,” but with “me as the descendant of my forefathers and mothers; me as a product of
history.” From which sources do you draw your sense of self?

Exodus 19:3–8
3 And Moses went up to God. ‫ יהוה‬called to ,‫הָ הָ ר לֵאמֹ ר‬-‫ מִ ן‬,‫הָ אֱ�הִ ים; וַיִּ קְ ָרא אֵ לָיו יְ הוָה‬-‫ אֶ ל‬,‫ג וּמֹ שֶׁ ה ָﬠלָה‬
,‫ ד אַ תֶּ ם ְראִ יתֶ ם‬.‫ וְ תַ גֵּיד לִ בְ נֵי יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬,‫כֹּ ה ת ֹאמַ ר לְ בֵ ית יַﬠֲקֹ ב‬
him from the mountain, saying, “Thus ‫ וָאָ בִ א‬,‫כַּנְ פֵי נְ שָׁ ִרים‬-‫יתי לְ מִ צְ ָריִ ם; וָאֶ שָּׂ א אֶ ְתכֶם ﬠַל‬ ִ ‫אֲשֶׁ ר ﬠ ִָשׂ‬
shall you say to the house of Jacob and ,‫וּשׁמַ ְר תֶּ ם‬ ְ ,‫שָׁ מוֹ ַﬠ ִתּ ְשׁמְ עוּ בְּ קֹ לִ י‬-‫ אִ ם‬,‫ ה וְ ﬠַתָּ ה‬.‫אֶ ְתכֶם אֵ לָי‬
.‫הָ אָ ֶרץ‬-‫לִ י כָּל‬-‫ כִּ י‬,‫הָ ﬠַמִּ ים‬-‫וִ הְ יִ יתֶ ם לִ י סְ גֻלָּה מִ כָּל‬--‫יתי‬ ִ ‫בְּ ִר‬-‫אֶ ת‬
declare to the children of Israel:
,‫ הַ דְּ בָ ִרים‬,‫ אֵ לֶּה‬:‫ וְ גוֹי קָ דוֹשׁ‬,‫לִ י מַ מְ ֶלכֶת כֹּ הֲנִ ים‬-‫ו וְ אַ תֶּ ם ִתּהְ יוּ‬
4 ‘You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, how I ‫ וַיִּ קְ ָרא לְ זִקְ נֵי‬,‫ ז ַויָּב ֹא מֹ שֶׁ ה‬.‫בְּ נֵי יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל‬-‫ אֶ ל‬,‫אֲשֶׁ ר ְתּדַ בֵּ ר‬
bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to ,‫ אֲשֶׁ ר צִ וָּהוּ‬,‫הַ דְּ בָ ִרים הָ אֵ לֶּה‬-‫ אֵ ת כָּל‬,‫הָ ﬠָם; ַויָּשֶׂ ם לִ פְ נֵיהֶ ם‬
Me. ‫דִּ בֶּ ר יְ הוָה‬-‫ כֹּ ל אֲשֶׁ ר‬,‫הָ ﬠָם יַחְ דָּ ו ַויּ ֹאמְ רוּ‬-‫ ח ַויַּﬠֲנוּ כָל‬.‫יְ הוָה‬
5 Now then, if you will obey Me faithfully and keep .‫יְ הוָה‬-‫ אֶ ל‬,‫דִּ בְ ֵרי הָ ﬠָם‬-‫ַנﬠֲשֶׂ ה; ַויָּשֶׁ ב מֹ שֶׁ ה אֶ ת‬
My covenant, you shall be My treasured
possession among all the peoples. Indeed, all the
earth is Mine,
6 but you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a
holy nation.’ These are the words that you shall

1
 speak to the children of Israel.”
7 Moses came and summoned the elders of
the people and put before them all that
‫ יהוה‬had commanded him.
8 All the people answered as one, saying,
“All that ‫ יהוה‬has spoken we will do!” And
Moses brought back the people’s words to ‫יהוה‬.

Guiding questions:
• What will happen if God’s commandments are followed?
• Who accepts the commandments?

Rabbi Carole B. Balin, PhD, “Mitzvah/Mitzvot”

Emancipation of Jews in the West led to a new response to identity, including for many a hyphenated
existence. So Jewish-Americans or Germans-of-the-Mosaic-faith, to take two examples, along with new
citizens of every other emerging, secular nation-state of the modern era, could elect (or not) to be a part
of a religious community. At least theoretically, the state would no longer regard the Jews as a corporate
body or “nation within a nation” with specific privileges and obligations owing to that status. Rather,
each individual Jew could decide for him- or herself whether to affiliate voluntarily with a synagogue or
follow the mandates of a particular rabbi. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 204–205)

Guiding questions:
• In what ways did emancipation benefit the Jewish people? Share some examples. What price is paid by
the Jewish community for their so-called hyphenated identity? Are there benefits?
Rabbi Jan Katzew, PhD, “Freedom within Limits”
This concern about Jewish identity and loyalty has proved to be a recurring theme in Jewish life that has
transcended time and place. At the turn of the nineteenth century in France, Napoleon convened a
Sanhedrin, a Jewish court, asking for clarity on the question of Jewish identity and loyalty. One of the
twelve questions put to the Sanhedrin was “Do the Jews born in France, and treated by the law as
French citizens, acknowledge France as their country? Are they bound to defend it? Are they bound to
obey the laws and follow the directions of the civil code?” The persistence of variations on this
question is remarkable, painful, and telling. (A Life of Meaning, p. 128)
Guiding questions:
• What are the factors that led Napoleon to convene the Sanhedrin, and how did this affect the Jews’
experience of emancipation? Why is France a particularly good example of the trajectory of
emancipation?
• In what ways were the loyalties of the Jews of France questioned? How might the Jewish community
have experienced emancipation differently from their neighbors?
Rabbi Richard S. Sarason, PhD, “Worship and the Prayer Book”
The traditional petitions for a return to the Land always bore a political dimension (as was recognized
and acknowledged by the modern Zionist movement). This political dimension became highly charged
during the era of Jewish emancipation in Europe. Citizenship rights were extended to Jews with the
expectation of complete loyalty to the European nation-state; no dual loyalty would be allowed. One

2
 French legislator at the time put it this way: “To the Jews as individuals, everything; to the Jews as a
people, nothing!” Anxiety about the charge of dual loyalty, warranted or not, became ingrained in
Western Jews (it occasionally surfaces even today in some American Jews’ ambivalence about
supporting Israel); this is what lies behind the elimination of the prayers for the return to Zion in
virtually all Reform prayer books before the rise of Nazi Germany in the 1930s. (A Life of Meaning, p.
341)

Guiding questions:
• How does the statement “To the Jews as individuals, everything; to the Jews as a people, nothing!”
converse with the Torah’s statement that we “shall be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation”? Can
you think of other times in history when Jews have been charged with dual loyalty? Have you
personally ever experienced anxiety about the charge of dual loyalty? How is this different from or
similar to the situation in the North America of the 1940s? How is this different from or similar to what
we are hearing in America today?
The Pittsburgh Platform”—1885: Declaration of Principles
We recognize in the Bible the record of the consecration of the Jewish people to its mission as the priest
of the one God. . . .
We recognize, in the modern era of universal culture of heart and intellect, the approaching of the
realization of Israel’s great Messianic hope for the establishment of the kingdom of truth, justice, and
peace among all men. We consider ourselves no longer a nation, but a religious community, and
therefore expect neither a return to Palestine, nor a sacrificial worship under the sons of Aaron, nor
the restoration of any of the laws concerning the Jewish state. (CCAR,
https://www.ccarnet.org/rabbinic-voice/platforms/article-declaration-principles/)
Guiding questions:
• What was the context that inspired the drafters of the platform to change the prevailing understanding of
Jews to a religious community and not a nation?
• What are the long-term implications of such a statement?
• How does this statement reflect the fears and concerns brought up by the changes inspired by the
emancipation?
• In what ways does our contemporary political context (re-)shape our religious values?
Rabbi Ammiel Hirsch, “Chosen for Torah”
Eventually, even most Reform Jews did not buy the argument that particularism was a less-advanced
vestige of our pre-Enlightenment past and that universal brotherhood and bliss were within our grasp.
They simply looked at the world and saw the evidence themselves. As the twentieth century advanced,
the classical Reformers’ optimism in the coming of a universal era of peace and unity seemed not only
unrealistic, but increasingly delusional.
By the middle of the twentieth century, the Reform Movement even came to embrace Zionism. The early
Reformers had bitterly opposed Zionism because it is premised on the very principle that the
Pittsburgh Platform rejected—Jewish nationhood. But by the end of World War II, the restoration of
Jewish sovereignty in the Jewish people’s ancient homeland seemed a much more realistic solution to
the Jewish problem than the “approach of the . . . kingdom of truth, justice and peace among men”
(Pittsburgh Platform).
There was always a healthy tension in Jewish thought between the centrality of the Jewish people and
Jewish interactions with, and obligations to, the world at large. Judaism was both particular and
universal. But by rejecting the Jewish particular, the Reform Movement ripped Judaism’s universal

3
 aspirations from their particularistic moorings, and what was left was not Jewish universalism, but
simply universalism. (A Life of Meaning, p. 83; emphasis added)
A Statement of Principles for Reform Judaism”—Adopted in Pittsburgh, 1999
We are Israel, a people aspiring to holiness, singled out through our ancient covenant and our unique
history among the nations to be witnesses to God’s presence. We are linked by that covenant and that
history to all Jews in every age and place. (CCAR, https://www.ccarnet.org/rabbinic-
voice/platforms/article-statement-principles-reform-judaism/)

Guiding questions:
• What world events and sociological developments caused the optimism of “classical Reformers in the
coming of a universal era of peace and unity to seem not only unrealistic, but increasingly delusional”?
In which areas do we have to recognize that we are, still, only humbly learning to live up to our
visions?
• According to this platform, what are the essential characteristics of the people of Israel?
• Compare and contrast the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform and the Pittsburgh Principles of 1999. How do they
differ, and to what events and realities can you tie the differences?
• In what ways does the 1999 Pittsburgh Principles reflect Rabbi Hirsch’s statement?
Rabbi Ammiel Hirsch, “Chosen for Torah”
The concept of chosenness—the idea that God can have a special relationship with one people—is both
intellectually and morally challenging for contemporary liberal Jews. It is often seen as offensive and
exclusionary. As Jewish history unfolds in North America, and as the impact of the Holocaust and the
creation of the State of Israel recedes, . . . in practice, if not philosophy, there has developed a
movement back to universalism—not as a function of, but at the expense of, Jewish peoplehood. It is
consistent with the spirit of the times. Contemporary liberalism has launched a compelling critique
against religion in general that undermines our confidence. . . .
The growing inclination in the Reform Movement to de-emphasize Jewish particularism is the gravest
threat to the future of Reform Judaism in North America. For what are the prospects of the continuity
of the people if the people is not committed to its own distinctive continuity and does not even agree
philosophically that it is a legitimate objective and a social good? Is it possible to sustain the Jewish
people without being committed to the Jewish people? Can Judaism exist without Jews? (A Life of
Meaning, pp. 85, 88)
Guiding questions:
• Do you find the concept of chosenness potentially offensive and exclusionary? Why or Why not?
• How does Rabbi Hirsch define Judaism as a religion and Jewish as a people?
• In reflecting on your life experience, have you witnessed the tension between universalism and
particularism in Jewish life?
• What opportunities might Reform Judaism have to advocate both for Jewish particularism and Jewish
universalism?

4
Source Sheet Session Two
Rabbi Carole B. Balin, “Mitzvah/Mitzvot”
If you were to ask Jews today to define mitzvah, most would respond “good deed”—as in “Go visit your
aunt in the hospital; it’s a mitzvah.” While it is true that already in the Talmud the Rabbis provide a
secondary definition of mitzvah as “an act worthy of praise” in contrast to “commandment”
(Babylonian Talmud, Chulin 106a), few in our day would interpret calling on one’s sick relative as
fulfilling the commandment of visiting the sick (bikur cholim), and even fewer would regard such an
obligation as divinely ordained. (A Life of Meaning, p. 205)

Guiding questions:
• How do the Talmud and Rabbi Balin differentiate between a mitzvah and a good deed?
• How would you describe the difference between the traditional Rabbinic definition of “mitzvah” and the
way we use the term today?
• Do you personally sense a difference between a mitzvah and a good deed? If you do, how do you
differentiate between the two?
• How does doing something out of obligation make you feel? How does doing something because you
are internally motivated make you feel?

Babylonian Talmud, Makot 23b

Rabbi Simlai taught: There were 613 mitzvot stated ‫דרש רבי שמלאי שש מאות ושלש עשרה מצות נאמרו לו‬
to Moses in the Torah, consisting of 365 ‫למשה שלש מאות וששים וחמש לאוין כמנין ימות החמה‬
negative corresponding to the number of days in .‫ומאתים וארבעים ושמונה עשה כנגד איבריו של אדם‬
the solar year, and 248 positive mitzvot
corresponding to the number of segments in a
person’s body.

Guiding questions:
• What is a negative commandment?
• Why might Rabbi Simlai have equated negative commandments to the number of days in a year?
• What is a positive commandment?
• Do we really have 248 limbs? Why might Rabbi Simlai have equated positive commandments with the
human body?

Rabbi Carole B. Balin, “Mitzvah/Mitzvot”

No longer could rabbis assume that adherents to Judaism would abide by religious law because “God
said so.” Jews instead sought rational and/or provable explanations for practices both inside the
synagogue and at home. This new mind-set led to irrevocable changes in the meaning and
performance of mitzvot.
In 1885, the Reform Movement in America codified its novel interpretation of mitzvot in the document
that became known as the Pittsburgh Platform. In a forthright sleight of hand, the authors overturned
the classical Jewish understanding of commandedness by obligating Reform Jews only to those mitzvot
that either (a) bring about ethical behavior or (b) enhance the spirituality of human existence. In a
statement whose reverberations are felt in liberal Jewish circles today, Reform rabbis asserted:

5
We recognize in the Mosaic legislation a system of training the Jewish people for its mission during its
national life in Palestine, and today accept as binding only its moral laws, and maintain only such
ceremonies as elevate and sanctify our lives, but reject all such as are not adapted to the views and
habits of modern civilization.
In no uncertain terms, the early Reformers relegated biblical law to a bygone age while elevating moral
conduct to the plane of religious duty. This audacious shift from obligatory observance of all mitzvot to
a mandate to carry out moral laws represents nothing less than a revolution in Jewish practice and
theology. By denying the claim that halachah represents the revealed will of God, Reform Jews were in
effect asserting that divine revelation is progressive, akin to inspiration and ultimately concerned with
ethics. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 201–202)
Guiding questions:
• What were the early Reformers hoping to accomplish by the statement “We . . . accept as binding only
its moral laws, and maintain only such ceremonies as elevate and sanctify our lives”? What does it
mean to “elevate and sanctify”? What are some examples of mitzvot you perform that “elevate and
sanctify” your life? Would the early Reformers agree?
• What are some examples of mitzvot that early Reformers might have considered “not adapted to the
views and habits of modern civilization”? Do you agree with this notion?

“Reform Judaism: A Centenary Perspective”—Adopted in San Francisco, 1976

Our Religious Obligations: Religious Practice—Judaism emphasizes action rather than creed as the
primary expression of a religious life, the means by which we strive to achieve universal justice and
peace. Reform Judaism shares this emphasis on duty and obligation. Our founders stressed that the
Jew’s ethical responsibilities, personal and social, are enjoined by God. The past century has taught
us that the claims made upon us may begin with our ethical obligations but they extend to many other
aspects of Jewish living, including: creating a Jewish home centered on family devotion: lifelong
study; private prayer and public worship; daily religious observance; keeping the Sabbath and the
holy days; celebrating the major events of life; involvement with the synagogues and community; and
other activities which promote the survival of the Jewish people and enhance its existence. Within each
area of Jewish observance Reform Jews are called upon to confront the claims of Jewish tradition,
however differently perceived, and to exercise their individual autonomy, choosing and creating on the
basis of commitment and knowledge. (CCAR, https://www.ccarnet.org/rabbinic-
voice/platforms/article-reform-judaism-centenary-perspective/)

Guiding questions:
• How does this platform frame the relationship between action and creed?
• This platform was published after the Holocaust, the Six-Day War, and the Yom Kippur War. How
might these events have influenced the writers?
• The platform states that “Reform Jews are called to confront the claims of Jewish tradition . . . and to
exercise their individual autonomy, choosing and creating on the basis of commitment and
knowledge.” What does this look like in practice? Is this a feasible expectation of Jews out in the
world?

6
Adopted in Pittsburgh – 1999 (https://www.ccarnet.org/rabbinic-voice/platforms/article-
statement-principles-reform-judaism/): A Statement of Principles for Reform Judaism
We are called by Torah to lifelong study in the home, in the synagogue and in every place where Jews
gather to learn and teach. Through Torah study we are called to (mitzvot), the means by which
we make our lives holy.
We are committed to the ongoing study of the whole array of (mitzvot) and to the fulfillment of
those that address us as individuals and as a community. Some of these (mitzvot), sacred
obligations, have long been observed by Reform Jews; others, both ancient and modern, demand
renewed attention as the result of the unique context of our own times.
We bring Torah into the world when we seek to sanctify the times and places of our lives through regular
home and congregational observance. Shabbat calls us to bring the highest moral values to our daily
labor and to culminate the workweek with (kedushah), holiness, (menuchah), rest and
(oneg), joy. The High Holy Days call us to account for our deeds. The Festivals enable us to celebrate
with joy our people’s religious journey in the context of the changing seasons. The days of
remembrance remind us of the tragedies and the triumphs that have shaped our people’s historical
experience both in ancient and modern times. And we mark the milestones of our personal journeys
with traditional and creative rites that reveal the holiness in each stage of life.
We bring Torah into the world when we strive to fulfill the highest ethical mandates in our relationships
with others and with all of God’s creation. Partners with God in (tikkun olam), repairing the
world, we are called to help bring nearer the messianic age. We seek dialogue and joint action with
people of other faiths in the hope that together we can bring peace, freedom and justice to our world.
We are obligated to pursue (tzedek), justice and righteousness, and to narrow the gap between the
affluent and the poor, to act against discrimination and oppression, to pursue peace, to welcome the
stranger, to protect the earth’s biodiversity and natural resources, and to redeem those in physical,
economic and spiritual bondage. In so doing, we reaffirm social action and social justice as a central
prophetic focus of traditional Reform Jewish belief and practice. We affirm the (mitzvah) of
(tzedakah), setting aside portions of our earnings and our time to provide for those in need. These acts
bring us closer to fulfilling the prophetic call to translate the words of Torah into the works of our
hands.
In all these ways and more, Torah gives meaning and purpose to our lives.

Guiding questions:
• According to this platform, what is the meaning of mitzvot?
• What does it mean to bring Torah into the world? Describe how you personally could bring Torah into
the world.
• What are the ways in which this platform preserves the essence of previous platforms, and in what ways
do you see divergence?
• Now that you have read through the excerpts of the various platforms and supporting texts, which of the
platforms is most relatable to you, and which feels most unfamiliar or unrelatable?

7
Source Sheet Session Three
Deuteronomy 16:20
Justice, justice shall you pursue. .‫צֶ דֶ ק צֶ דֶ ק ִתּ ְרדֹּ ף‬

Rabbi Jonah Dov Pesner and Rabbi David N. Saperstein, “The Centrality of Social Justice
in Reform Judaism”
[The] traditional Jewish imperative for social justice was rooted in Judaism’s distinctive concept of
“ethical monotheism,” of a God that calls the Jewish people to righteousness, justice, and peace—
ideals that infused the prophetic voice of the Bible. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, as much
of the Western world altered its most foundational axioms from a God-oriented world to a logic-,
science-, and rationality-centered one, this social justice emphasis of Judaism and other Western
religions became intensified. A number of Age of Reason and Enlightenment era philosophers argued
that the part of religion that was most rational and scientific was ethics. The faith traditions that
emerged in this context elevated social justice to a centerpiece of religious expression. Out of this
intellectual milieu arose the Social Gospel strands of Christianity as well as Reform Judaism’s
emphasis on the “prophetic tradition,” expressed in the Reform Movement’s focus on social justice. (A
Life of Meaning, p. 507)

Guiding questions:
• How did the historical contexts of early Reform Judaism shape the early Reformers’ pursuit of justice,
and how does the current context shape our own?
• Which areas of justice work would the Reform Jew have been engaged in?
Rabbi Jonah Dov Pesner and Rabbi David N. Saperstein, “The Centrality of Social Justice
in Reform Judaism”
American Reform Judaism has, from its beginnings, emphasized social justice as a pillar of our
expression of Jewish living. The first American statement of our principles, drafted by the Central
Conference of American Rabbis (CCAR) in Pittsburgh in 1885, references the Torah’s goal of
“regulating relations between rich and poor” and concludes, “We deem it our duty to participate in
the great task of modern times, to solve, on the basis of justice and righteousness, the problems
presented by the contrasts and evils of the present organization of society.”
In the second statement of our principles drafted in 1937 in Columbus, our rabbinic leaders expanded the
themes of social and economic justice in a series of paragraphs related to ethical obligations, social
justice, and the pursuit of peace, linking the latter to the biblical prophets. The rabbis affirmed,
“Judaism seeks the attainment of a just society by the application of its teachings to the economic
order, to industry and commerce, and to national and international affairs. It aims at the elimination of
man-made misery and suffering, of poverty and degradation, of tyranny and slavery, of social
inequality and prejudice, of ill-will and strife.” (A Life of Meaning, p. 504)
Guiding questions:
• Historically, why has social justice work been central to our theology?
• Why did the early Reformers feel obliged to dedicate themselves to the mitzvah of pursuing justice?

8
• Do you know anything about the partners they had in their dedication? How could you find out more
about them?

Rabbi Jonah Dov Pesner and Rabbi David N. Saperstein, “The Centrality of Social Justice
in Reform Judaism”
A dramatic affirmation of the Reform Jewish commitment to tikkun olam was the founding of the
Commission on Social Action and the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (the RAC). The
former, a joint body of the CCAR and URJ, brings together representatives of the major institutions
and affiliates of the Reform Movement, professional and voluntary, in establishing movement positions
on critical issues of the day. In 1962, the URJ dedicated the RAC building in the heart of Washington,
DC, so that the Reform Movement could directly advocate in Congress and the White House for social
justice.
The RAC became a hub for the civil rights movement, housing for several decades the nation’s largest
umbrella civil rights organization, the Leadership Conference on Civil Rights. . . . Parts of the Civil
Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 were drafted there, and for thirty years much of
the advocacy on behalf of civil rights legislation was shaped in the RAC’s conference room. In those
early decades, Eisendrath, Lipman, Vorspan, Hirsch, and Rabbi Balfour Brickner, together with
leaders of the CCAR, played key roles in the battles on nuclear disarmament, civil rights, reproductive
rights, the Great Society programs, separation of church and state, anti-apartheid efforts, the Soviet
Jewry movement, and pro-Israel efforts. Those of us who succeeded that generation . . . have likewise
played leadership roles in such coalition work, not only continuing key work on these causes, but
adding environmental efforts, LGBTQ rights, international religious freedom—just as local rabbis and
lay leaders have done throughout these past eighty years in communities across America. (A Life of
Meaning, pp. 508–509)
Guiding questions:
• What were important steps our movement took in order to become an influential advocate for social
justice?
• What surprised you about the priorities listed? How might the priority on civil rights have impacted on
other issues?

Rabbi Jonah Dov Pesner and Rabbi David N. Saperstein, “The Centrality of Social Justice
in Reform Judaism”
In the most recent statement of principles, adopted in 1999, the theme of social justice continued to be
emphasized. In this more contemporary iteration, the statement grounds the Reform Movement’s
commitment in the notion of tikkun olam (literally “repairing the
world”), arguing that our actions for justice and righteousness help bring about a better world. The 1999
statement deepens the Reform Jewish connection of social justice to the biblical prophets who
demanded that ethical concerns be paramount in service to God. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 504–505)

Rabbi Jonah Dov Pesner and Rabbi David N. Saperstein, “The Centrality of Social Justice
in Reform Judaism”
Torah repeatedly commands us to love, protect, and treat as ourselves the ger, “the stranger,” because
“you were strangers in the land Egypt.” The injunctions to love and protect the ger are repeated in

9
 varied forms thirty-six times, more than any other commandment in the Torah, and remind us of our
responsibilities to protect the weak and the vulnerable of our communities, even when they are not
Jews themselves. (A Life of Meaning, p. 505)

Deuteronomy 10:19
You are commanded to love the stranger, because .‫וַאֲ הַ בְ תֶּ ם אֶ ת הַ גֵּר כִּ י ג ִֵרים הֱיִ יתֶ ם בְּ אֶ ֶרץ ִמצְ ָריִ ם‬
you were strangers in the land of Egypt.

Guiding questions:
• Why is this commandment central in our Torah? What is the role of empathy in social justice work?
• How does this text and the action surrounding it play out in our lives today?

Rabbi Rachel S. Mikva, PhD, “Jews and Race”

Jews were heavily involved in the fight for integration, voting rights, and an end to Jim Crow. They
marched and lobbied and organized. Most people know about Andrew Goodman and Michael
Schwerner, two white Jewish boys who were murdered alongside James Cheney in Mississippi 1964 as
they tried to register African Americans to vote. Fewer people know about the seventeen white Reform
Rabbis who were arrested in St. Augustine, Florida, three days earlier, for the crimes of praying and
eating with their black brothers and sisters. In jail their first night, they wrote about why they
responded to Dr. King’s call:
We came because we could not stand silently by our brother’s blood. We had done that too many times
before. . . . Silence has become the unpardonable sin of our time. . . . We came as Jews who remember
the millions of faceless people who stood quietly, watching the smoke rise from Hitler’s crematoria.
We came because we know that, second only to silence, the greatest danger to man is loss of faith in
man’s capacity to act.
Jewish philanthropists gave heavily to historically black colleges and helped found or fund some of the
pivotal organizations in the fight for racial equality: the NAACP, the Urban League, the Congress of
Racial Equality. Rabbi Robert Marx, a Reform rabbi in Chicago, publicly called out other Jews who
acted as slumlords or inner-city merchants who dealt unfairly with communities of color. He went on
to found the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs, which continues to work in vital partnerships with
diverse community organizations seeking social and economic equality. (A Life of Meaning, p. 526)
Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Mikva provides an overview of Reform Jewish anti-racism work. What makes racial injustice so
important to Jews, and what makes it particularly challenging to address?
• Rabbi David Ellenson, PhD, “A Personal Comment by a Reform Rabbi on Conversion”

Rabbi David Ellenson, PhD, “A Personal Comment by a Reform Rabbi on Conversion”

The issue of ongoing discussion and sometimes contention that remains for many Reform Jews centers on
questions of inclusion or outreach to persons who are not converted to Judaism but who, along with
their children, dwell within the ambit of the Jewish community. After all, there have been significant
rates of intermarriage in the American Jewish community since 1970, and the 2012 Pew Research
Center’s study of the American Jewish population reported that seven out of ten non-Orthodox Jews
who were married between 2001 and 2011 married people who were born non-Jewish. In the

10
large majority of these intermarriages, the non-Jewish partner did not convert to Judaism. This means
that the ethnic homogeneity that marked the Jewish community during the mid-twentieth century no
longer exists. Simply put, most non-Orthodox Jews in North America born in the last third of the
twentieth century and in the twenty-first century have grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, and
cousins who are not Jewish. The reality of intermarriage has combined with other factors (e.g.,
adoption of Asian children, the entrance of Jews of color into the community) to make the Jewish
community more ethnically and racially heterogeneous than ever before in American Jewish history. . .
In view of this, I believe that the policy of “audacious hospitality” that Rabbi Richard Jacobs, president
of the Union for Reform Judaism, has articulated is the optimal policy option for the contemporary
American Jewish community as it strives to retain and attract Jewish members and provide Jewish
meaning for those who come within our ambit. . . . This attitude, rooted in Jewish tradition and
teaching, will promote our community as our people seek meaning and identity today and in the future.
(A Life of Meaning, pp. 437–438)
Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Ellenson also acknowledges that the Jewish community is increasingly multiethnic and
multinational, and he points out that our circles of friends, partners, children, and members of
synagogue communities are made up of non-Jews. Which challenges and blessings has this provided to
the Jewish community? To your family and friends?
Rabbi Rachel S. Mikva, PhD, “Jews and Race”
Most books present Jewish diversity today by describing distinct religious movements; a few identify
differences between Ashkenazic and Sephardic praxis. It is not surprising, then, that the majority of
American Jews do not know that half of the Jews in Israel are not white, mostly from North Africa and
Arabic-speaking countries (known as Mizrachi Jews). They may be vaguely aware of Latinx Jews who
live or have roots in Central and South America, and they have heard of the Beta Yisrael from
Ethiopia—but probably not the Lemba of southern Africa, the Abayudaya in Uganda, the Ibo in
Nigeria, the B’nei Yisrael from India, or the Kaifeng Jews of China. They may not even know much
about Black Hebrew and Israelite communities established in the United States or about the many
Jews of color who have been part of majority-white congregations for generations.
Part of this erasure has to do with the unique history of Jews in the United States. Although the first Jews
who came to these shores were Sephardic, arriving in the seventeenth century, the massive European
immigration between 1880 and 1920 included over two million Ashkenazic Jews, overwhelming the
existing communities and
changing the racial balance. Like many ethnic (and non-Protestant) immigrant populations, these Jews
were not considered white until after World War II, but now a significant majority of Jews in the
United States identify as white and it has become the “norm.” . . .
White normativity prompts repeated marginalization for Jews of color. It can be as simple as walking into
a synagogue where people presume you are not Jewish, or you must have converted, or you are
adopted, or (if you are black) you must be from Ethiopia. If you are none of those things, you may
become a creature of exotic fascination, which can be just as oppressive. White experience is centered
in conversations about Jewish foods, names, hair, humor, neighborhoods, history and culture. . . .
Ironically, erasure happens even in the way many white Jewish activists talk about fighting systemic
racism, when they speak about how “we” need to reach out to the African American community—
forgetting that they are also us. A Life of Meaning, pp. 527–529)

11
Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Mikva speaks about the existence of Jews who are not white. What is the racial makeup of your
congregation? Have you experienced moments in which you realized that you thought, spoke, or acted
based on assumptions that “othered” a part of your community?
• How does systemic racism in the United States impact our communities?
• In “African American Jewish Women—Life Beyond the Hyphen,” Yavilah McCoy comments, "I find
Grace when I can enjoy being ‘other’ than the normative experience because I am valued as a
contribution to the betterment of a whole." How does racial diversity contribute to the life of the
Jewish people?

Rabbi Dana Evan Kaplan, PhD, “Converting to Judaism” Rabbi Rachel S. Mikva, PhD,
“Jews and Race”
As a reader who has gotten this far in this book, you have noticed by now that Judaism is not just a
religion. What it is exactly is a bit of a mystery. It is certainly safe to say that it involves an element of
what has been variously termed ethnicity, peoplehood, or even that much-maligned term race. The
person becoming Jewish has to understand that he or she is not just converting into a religion but
entering into a very large family. Jews feel that they are part of a people that has undergone a unique
set of experiences covering many thousands of years. The concept of a distinctive entity called the
Jewish people is already apparent in the Hebrew Bible. It uses several terms to refer to this people,
including “congregation,” “nation,” and “kingdom.” The words imply a spiritual and also a
communal, family-like connection linking all these individuals one to another. (A Life of Meaning, pp.
423–424)

Rabbi Rachel S. Mikva, PhD, “Jews and Race”

Although some critics have identified Jewish chosenness with racism because chosenness is tied to a
people rather than a faith, the argument does not fit the vast majority of biblical evidence. Jon
Levenson asserts, “One of the hardest points of biblical thought to understand is the concept of
peoplehood, which is familial and natural without being racial and biologistic.” Chosenness is not due
to any innate superiority, racial or other. The biblical portrait of the people Israel includes not only
descendants of Abraham and Sarah, but also a “mixed multitude” that emerges together out of Egypt
(Exodus 12:38) and others who became part of the assembly (Deuteronomy 23:8–9). Rabbinic
literature imagines that Abraham and Sarah gathered followers from among the surrounding
populations at the very beginning (B’reishit Rabbah 39:14), and the Sages established a formal path
for individuals not born to the community to join it. Over time, it grew even more multiethnic and
multinational. (A Life of Meaning, p. 533)

Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Kaplan states that Judaism is a family-like structure. What are the positives of family-like
structures, and when can they be harmful?
• Rabbi Mikva explains that belonging to the “chosen people” does not mean that all of us need to be the
same. Which changes of the Jewish community have you witnessed in your lifetime?
• Many of the quotes you just read speak about Jews and race: Jewish anti-racism and social justice work;
the Jewish acknowledgment of our family-like structures and their potentials and problems; the
multinational and multiethnic nature of our family structure; and the existence and importance of Jews
of color. In what ways were your assumptions about the Jewish community challenged in these texts?

12
Rabbi Rachel S. Mikva, PhD, “Jews and Race”
Rabbi Ellen Lippmann tells the story of her congregation’s journey, as they discerned a “Torah of Race”
in their anti-racism efforts. They formed a task force, engaged in difficult conversations, undertook
specialized training, ensured that people of color were hired as teachers and served as members of the
board, and so on—all drawing upon the sacred times and sacred texts of Judaism to inform their
efforts. “This is what we have learned: Working to undo racism is what we must do as Jews.” (A Life
of Meaning, p. 536)

13
Source Sheet Session Four
Exodus 15:1-6 (JPS translation)
‫אָ ז י ִָשׁיר־מֹ שֶׁ ה וּבְ נֵי יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל אֶ ת־הַ ִשּׁ ָירה הַ זּ ֹאת לַיהוָה ַויּ ֹאמְ רוּ‬
Then Moses and the Israelites sang this song to
‫לֵאמֹ ר אָ ִשׁ ָירה לַיהוָה כִּ י־גָאֹ ה גָּאָ ה סוּס וְ רֹ כְ בוֹ ָרמָ ה בַ יָּם׃‬
‫יהוה‬. They said: I will sing to ‫יהוה‬, for He has
triumphed gloriously; horse and driver He has ‫ָﬠזִּי וְ זִמְ ָר ת יָהּ וַיְ הִ י־לִ י לִ ישׁוּﬠָה זֶה אֵ לִ י וְ אַ נְ וֵהוּ אֱ�הֵ י אָ בִ י‬
hurled into the sea. ‫ַואֲרֹ מְ מֶ נְ הוּ׃‬
‫ יהוה‬is my strength and might; He is become my ‫יְ הוָה אִ ישׁ מִ לְ חָ מָ ה יְ הוָה ְשׁמוֹ׃‬
deliverance. This is my God and I will enshrine
‫מַ ְרכְּ בֹ ת פּ ְַרעֹ ה וְ חֵ ילוֹ י ָָרה בַ יָּם וּמִ בְ חַ ר שָׁ לִ שָׁ יו טֻבְּ עוּ בְ יַם־סוּף׃‬
Him; The God of my ancestors, and I will exalt
Him. ‫ְתּהֹ מֹ ת יְ כַסְ יֻמוּ י ְָרדוּ בִ מְ צוֹ�ת כְּ מוֹ־אָ בֶ ן׃‬
‫יהוה‬, the Warrior— ‫ יהוה‬is His name! ‫יְ מִ ינְ � יְ הוָה נֶאְ דָּ ִרי בַּכֹּ חַ יְ מִ ינְ � יְ הוָה ִתּ ְרﬠַץ אוֹיֵב׃‬
Pharaoh’s chariots and his army He has cast into
the sea; and the pick of his officers are
drowned in the Sea of Reeds.
The deeps covered them; they went down into the
depths like a stone.
Your right hand, ‫יהוה‬, glorious in power, Your
right hand, ‫יהוה‬, shatters the foe!

Exodus 24:9-12
‫ַויַּﬠַל מֹ שֶׁ ה וְ אַ הֲרֹ ן נָדָ ב ַואֲבִ יהוּא וְ ִשׁבְ ﬠִ ים מִ זִּקְ נֵי יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל׃‬
Then Moses and Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, and
seventy elders of Israel ascended; ‫וַיִּ ְראוּ אֵ ת אֱ�הֵ י יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל וְ תַ חַ ת ַרגְ לָיו כְּ מַ ﬠֲשֵׂ ה לִ בְ ַנ ת הַ סַּ פִּ יר‬
and they saw the God of Israel—under whose feet ‫וּכְ ﬠֶצֶ ם הַ שָּׁ מַ יִ ם לָטֹ הַ ר׃‬
was the likeness of a pavement of sapphire, like ‫וְ אֶ ל־אֲצִ ילֵי בְּ נֵי יִ ְשׂ ָראֵ ל ל ֹא שָׁ לַח יָדוֹ ַויֶּחֱזוּ אֶ ת־הָ אֱ�הִ ים ַויּ ֹאכְ לוּ‬
the very sky for purity. (‫וַיִּ ְשׁ תּוּ׃ )ס‬
Yet [God] did not raise a hand against the leaders ‫ַויּ ֹאמֶ ר יְ הוָה אֶ ל־מֹ שֶׁ ה ﬠֲלֵה אֵ לַי הָ הָ ָרה וֶהְ יֵה־שָׁ ם וְ אֶ ְתּנָה לְ � אֶ ת־‬
of the Israelites; they beheld God, and they ate ‫תּוֹרה וְ הַ מִּ צְ וָה אֲשֶׁ ר כָּתַ בְ ִתּי לְ הוֹרֹ תָ ם׃‬
ָ ַ‫לֻחֹ ת הָ אֶ בֶ ן וְ ה‬
and drank.
‫ יהוה‬said to Moses, “Come up to Me on the
mountain and wait there, and I will give you
the stone tablets with the teachings and
commandments which I have inscribed to
instruct them.”

14
P’sikta D'Rav Kahanah 12
Exodus 20:2
I ‫ יהוה‬am your God who brought you out of the ‫אתי� מֵ אֶ ֶרץ מִ צְ ַריִ ם מִ בֵּ ית ﬠֲבָ דִ ים׃‬
ִ ֵ‫אָ נֹכִ י יְ הוָה אֱ�הֶ י� אֲשֶׁ ר הוֹצ‬
land of Egypt, the house of bondage:

Because the Holy One appeared to Israel at the Red Sea as a mighty man waging war, and appeared to
them at Sinai as a teacher who teaches the day’s lesson and then again and again goes over with his
pupils what they have been taught, and appeared to them in the days of Daniel as an elder teaching
Torah, and in the days of Solomon appeared to them as a young man, the Holy One said to Israel:
Come to no false conclusions because you see Me in many guises, for I am God who was with you at
the Red Sea and I am God who is with you at Sinai: I am Adonai your God.
The fact is, R. Hiyya bar Abba said, that God appeared to them in a guise appropriate to each and every
place and time. At the Red Sea God appeared to them as a mighty man waging their wars, at Sinai
God appeared to them as a teacher, as one who stands upright in awe when teaching Torah; in the
days of Daniel, God appeared to them as an elder teaching Torah, for the Torah is at its best when it
comes from the mouths of old men; in the days of Solomon God appeared to them as a young man in
keeping with the youthful spirit of Solomon’s generation. At Sinai, then, when God said, I am Adonai
Your God, appropriately God appeared to them as a teacher teaching Torah.

Guiding questions:
• What images of God do these texts describe? How do they differ? In what ways are they similar?
• Which part of you responds to these images? When do you feel comforted and inspired to hear about
these?
• Is there a part of you that feels skeptical about the God described in the texts of our Torah and our
rabbis? Would there be moments in your life when these images would not be comforting or helpful?
• In which moments in your life would you not want to hear these stories?

William Berkson, PhD, “Sacred Relationships”

We human beings live not simply in response to what we are experiencing in the moment, but in a world
of meaning, and this meaning is defined by our memories of the past and our imagination of what
might yet come to pass. . . .
The most important source of religious feelings today is loving relationships. . . . In loving relationships,
we sense that we are part of something larger than ourselves and to which something larger in the
universe is giving a profound “yes.” This is what Martin Buber recognized in identifying the intimacy
of “I-Thou” relationships as our portal to experiencing the eternal Thou, God. . . .
The link between spirituality and moral conduct is a sense of the oneness of God and of our
connectedness to the One. Our feeling that we are part of something greater, transcending my own life,
and owe something to it is the key issue. Whether we believe that God is immanent or transcendent, or
both, is not of the essence. What is critical is that we feel a sense of obligation beyond our own lives,
which transcends “me, now,” and that we set priorities for action accordingly. Thus, ethical conduct
and religious feelings support one another. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 482–485)

15
Guiding questions:
• How does Dr. Berkson describe the idea we commonly refer to as b’tzelem Elohim (that we are all
created in God’s image)? Which relationships in your life bring this sense most immediately to your
heart?
• What is your response to Dr. Berkson’s assertion that “the most important source of religious feeling
today is in our loving relationships”?

Rabbi Neal Gold, “Creating a Life of Meaning by Caring for Others”

Jewish tradition prescribes two distinct but related categories of mitzvot for doing the work of justice and
kindness. Tzedakah refers to giving money away for the purpose of world repair. G’milut chasadim is
an umbrella of mitzvot that involve giving time and energy—acts of thoughtful presence—in order to
improve the world and care for others. Examples of g’milut chasadim include honoring parents,
visiting sick people, caring for a dead body with dignity and honor, comforting mourners, raising
orphans, dignifying elders, providing decent clothes for people without any, feeding hungry people,
and many similar deeds. . . .
Our Rabbis taught:
In three ways g’milut chasadim is superior to tzedakah:
Tzedakah can only be done with one’s money, but g’milut chasadim can be done with one’s person and
with one’s money;
Tzedakah can only be given to poor people, but g’milut chasadim can be done for both rich and poor
people;
Tzedakah can only be given to the living, but g’milut chasadim can be done for both the living and the
dead. (Babylonian Talmud, Sukkah 49b)
The Sages recognized that money is a powerful tool for improving the world in ways that boundless good
intentions cannot. On the other hand, certain acts of chesed can impact the lives of others in ways that
money never will. Therefore, both tzedakah and g’milut chasadim are parts of a spiritual regimen that
puts our highest values into action. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 464–467)
Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Gold describes two ethical ways to live a spiritual life: To give money (tzedakah), and to give
kindness, or by being a thoughtful presence (g’milut chasadim / acts of loving-kindness). Both ways
are positive mitzvot; neither can replace the other. Which one comes more naturally to you?
• Would you have recognized yourself as being “kind” for doing what you do?

Rabbi Lance J. Sussman, PhD, “The Mission of Israel among Humanity”

A Judaism that is primarily made of ritual, as beautiful and lyrical as many ritual practices can be, is
incomplete. It addresses the need for community and spirituality. But it is not yet a Judaism with a
transcendent purpose, a redemptive goal. The transcendent purpose of Judaism is to teach the Jewish
people, and then share with all humanity, the Jewish way of love and kindness, the redemptive path of
chesed, transcendent loving-kindness.
Chesed is Judaism’s foremost value. When we practice it, we are at our most godlike. When we teach it,
we make it our ethic. When we pursue it, we help establish justice as the standard for society. Chesed
is the path to redemption, and redemption is why we exist as a people. Our mission as Reform Jews,

16
 our mission of Israel, is to raise the banner of chesed for all; only when we have raised it can we sing
with fullness of heart that “all the world” will come to serve the God whose name will finally “become
One.” (A Life of Meaning, p. 577)

Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Dr. Sussman believes that acts of kindness, chesed, will bring redemption to the world. Research
(e.g., https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/the_poor_give_more) shows that poorer people are
actually kinder than richer people. Where on the spectrum do you see yourself? Where would you like
to be?

Rabbi Peter S. Knobel, PhD, “Reflections on Prayer”

I want to distinguish among three terms: liturgy, worship, and prayer. Liturgy refers to the texts that we
find in our prayer books. These texts have a prescribed structure, are hallowed by tradition, and are
often enhanced with additional material. The texts at the core of the Reform prayer books connect us to
the whole of Jewish history and the whole of the Jewish people. They are the most important statement
of our values and our obligations. We use them whenever we gather together for communal worship.
Liturgy becomes worship when performed in a communal setting accompanied by song and chant. At its
heart, worship is a communal experience. The presence of others can enhance the ways we are
supported in difficult moments, the ways we celebrate joyous moments, and inspire us to translate the
words of the prayer books and Torah into action.
Prayer is an experience of profound connection to something beyond ourselves. During the worship
service, there are often moments when I feel deeply connected to an entity greater than myself. God?
The Source of Being? The Shechinah? The Soul of the universe? The Rock of Israel? Divine Friend?
Sacred Partner? I cannot really name what I mean, but I feel connected. At these moments I am not
rationally examining my theology, but experiencing something important and meaningful that speaks
to the deepest aspects of my being. . . .
Liturgy, worship, and prayer enable me to regard myself as part of a great tradition. They set forth my
responsibilities to myself, to the Jewish people, and to the whole of humanity. Taken together, they
create an opening for me to express my greatest concerns. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 329–330)
Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Knobel distinguishes between liturgy, worship, and prayer. Do you agree with the distinctions?
Have you experienced all three? Is it mandatory to experience all three?
• What would you need to do in order to have the differentiated understanding of liturgy, worship, and
prayer?

Rabbi Pearl Barlev, MAHL, BCC, “Reform Judaism’s Healing Tent”

Let’s start with the personal. It is natural to desire or pray to pass through life unscathed and to banish
bad things. We are reminded of the Torah story in which Moses “cried out” his soulful and singular
plea for his sister, Miriam: “God please! Heal her! Please!” (Numbers 12:13). Like Moses’s prayer,
our prayer can be a call for help. We may come to learn that sometimes we get the answers we want,
sometimes we do not. . . .

17
However, ancient and conventional wisdoms guide us to involve ourselves with spiritual practice and
teach that prayer from the heart can bring its own comfort to soothe pain. An example of this is in
these poignant words I heard from a patient as she sat with eyes closed, on the edge of her hospital bed
crying softly: “God, I am just a person in a hospital. Please help me.” Then after a while in silence she
whispered, “Thank you. Amen.” After the prayer she appeared more peaceful. It seemed to have given
her respite in her storm. (A Life of Meaning, p. 563)

Guiding questions:
• How would you describe the effect of prayer Rabbi Barlev describes in her essay? Have you
experienced the effect Rabbi Barlev observed?
• Can you think of other effects that prayer may have?

Rabbi Stephanie M. Alexander

A Chasidic tale is told of two sages, Rabbi Elimelech and Rabbi Zusiya, who wondered as to what the
holiness one feels on Shabbat should be attributed. Is it a function of the day itself—are the twenty-five
hours of Shabbat intrinsically holy? Or is it a function of what one does on Shabbat—the rituals and
intentionality with which one observes the day?
So they derived an experiment: They would “make Shabbat” on a weeknight, a regular old Wednesday
for instance, and see what happened. All day Wednesday they went about their preparations. They set
the table with a beautiful white cloth and all of their finest silver. They cooked an elaborate feast of
their favorite Shabbat foods. They put on their Shabbat clothes and shtreimels (fur hats). And when the
sun set that Wednesday evening, they lit the Shabbat candles, blessed the Shabbat wine, sang Shabbat
songs.
So what happened? Well, there are two different endings. According to one account, after they concluded
their “Shabbat,” Elimelech and Zusiya looked at each other with trepidation—for they had indeed
experienced holiness on this weekday, and they were frightened. It appeared that it was not the
Sabbath day that held the secret to holiness at all. Anxious about their findings, they immediately set
off to consult with a wise teacher and told him of their experiment. “Do not fear,” he said. “The
preparation of the heart has the true power to draw the light of Sabbath holiness down to earth.”
Shabbat is more than chronology; it’s a matter of intentionality.
Yet, a second account of the same story tells that Elimelech and Zusiya were unsuccessful in their bid to
bring the holiness of Shabbat to a weekday. In this version, they recognize that Shabbat—and all of the
holidays—are not merely the sum total of the rituals that we perform and the prayers we recite. Only
when combined with the auspicious nature of the set days themselves do rituals give Jewish
observances their true beauty and power—only then do they bring holiness. (A Life of Meaning, pp.
237–238)
Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Alexander writes about the difference between soulful ritual and soulless ceremony. It is hard,
she says, to determine why exactly some rituals feel soulful and others feel soulless.
• Which rituals (Jewish or not) feel soulful in your life? What do they have in common?

18
Rabbi Rachel Timoner, “An Experiential Approach to God”
The problem is not with the imagery in the mind’s eye. Our minds will make images forever; and the
shifting, changing imagery of our vibrant imaginations helps us to relate to the Ineffable. The problem
is when we fix an image. When we shape God in stone or wood or paint, we exercise control over
God’s image and features, we tame God into something finite, as if the Infinite One were within our
control. We reduce God in our imagination to a thing, which impoverishes our perception of who and
what God is. It is the externalized, shared, fixed image that is dangerous because it falsely limits what
is infinite. . . .
If we were to shift our image-making minds from tangible to intangible metaphors for God, that might be
progress. Ideas of God as spirit are one way. The Hebrew word most often translated as “spirit,”
ruach, appears 378 times throughout Tanach. Onomatopoeic (rhhuuahhh), ruach is life-giving breath,
the wind, and the spirit that animates Creation.
Each time our lungs fill and empty, it is ruach that enters and escapes. As we watch our sleeping
children, it is ruach that lifts and lowers their resting bodies. It is ruach that rushes past us on a
mountain crest, gently flutters the leaves of an aspen tree, and stings our faces on a blustery winter
day. According to Torah, it is ruach that prompts ecstatic prophecy, endows us with understanding and
skill, and girds us with courage and the strength to lead. Ruach is beyond us, around us, and within us.
Ruach, the creative force present at the first moment of the formation of the world, is associated with
God, with nature, and with humanity.
Unlike ruach, which is an impersonal, creative force, n’shamah belongs to the essence of God and the
essence of humanity. N’shimah means “breath”; n’shamah means “soul.” Our tradition teaches that
our souls and our breaths are intertwined and interdependent, coming from God, dwelling in us for a
short time, and returning to God each night and upon our death.
Given the Jewish evolution beyond God as body, it is easy to see why ruach—spirit, breath, wind—and
n’shamah—breath, soul—are such immediate concepts in relation to God in Torah. Spirit is
ungraspable, invisible, without shape or form. Wind is one of the few forces that we all feel,
experience, and relate to even though we cannot see it and it has no shape. We feel breath every
moment of every day; we live by it, but it has no image. For a religion bound by lack of imagery in
description of God, these concepts are intuitive and fundamental. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 16–17)

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Source Sheet Session Five
Rabbi Lance J. Sussman, PhD, “The Mission of Israel among Humanity”
Redemption implies an ultimately irresistible transformative force in the universe. God, as my teacher
Alvin J. Reines explained to me, is the ontological precondition of existence but not the ultimate source
for salvation. A living God, I learned from years of work as a pulpit rabbi, must be more than a
theological proposition. A living God has to have a presence and message for humanity. Long before
Mordecai Kaplan wrote of God as “the power that makes for salvation,” God—the God of the
prophets—was the God of moral urgency, who demanded we work for redemption through justice, not
merely sacrifice on the altar of ritual to the sounds of psalms and other liturgical recitations. (A Life of
Meaning, p. 575)

Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Sussman describes our path to redemption. In the center of this path, he puts our social justice
work, which he considers to be more important than ritual and liturgy. Do you agree with him?
• What other paths to redemption can you think of?

Rabbi Lance J. Sussman, PhD, “The Mission of Israel among Humanity”

Defining today’s morality is not easy, but Reform Judaism still claims that task . . . and continues to tie
redemptive justice to its fundamental mission. Fair labor practices, civil rights, feminism, LGBTQ
rights, and more are causes Reform has collectively understood to be part of its sacred task. From
early in its history, Reform has claimed it follows the path of revelation that is progressive in the sense
of historical evolution, liberal values, and the redemption of humanity.
A Reform Judaism reconceptualized in the context of the mission of Israel as its redemptive goal would
find in ritual not just individual spiritual endeavor, but a tool to inspire and transform. The end of the
prayer service would not be a veritable fourth-period clock in a blowout game, ticking perfunctorily; it
would be a crescendo of purpose and proclamation of intent. Memory and tradition would be
harnessed to inspiration and hope; social justice would be not just policy debate but sacred cause, for
the good of all. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 575–576)
Guiding questions:
• In this excerpt, Rabbi Sussman lists a number of areas in which Reform Jews have truly contributed to
the transformation of our world. What are these?
• Also in this excerpt, Rabbi Sussman describes how ritual and prayer can function as tools “to inspire and
transform”? How can ritual and prayer do that?

Rabbi Lance J. Sussman, PhD, “The Mission of Israel among Humanity”

If Reform Judaism were to redefine and embrace anew the mission of Israel—the purpose of being
Jewish—perhaps it could also rethink its now atrophied Outreach program. Is Jewish survival the
main reason we accept non-Jews in our midst as equal partners, or are we seeking partners in the
sacred work of redemption? Do converts need to undergo sixteen weeks of Judaization and Jewish
socialization, or do they need to embrace a basic commitment to help make the world a better place
through Judaism? (A Life of Meaning, p. 576)

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Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Sussman asks a very important question here: Who are our partners while we walk our path if
redemption is our goal?

Alex Cicelsky, “The Jewish Imperative of Healing the Land” Seven Days, Many Voices,
Benjamin Davod (ed.) (New York: CCAR Press, 2017).
All four of the elements of life on earth come together for the first time on day three of Creation: water,
air, earth, and sun. The plants trap the sun’s energy that will power the explosion of simple and
complex creatures. Today we can explain the relationship, the process and evolution of photosynthetic
plants, whose waste product (from sequestering carbon from the primordial atmosphere) is the oxygen
we breathe today. . . .
This is a physical description of the paradigm shift in our appreciation of our environment that Rabbi
Abraham Joshua Heschel called “radical amazement”:
Wonder or radical amazement is the chief characteristic of the religious man’s attitude toward history
and nature. One attitude is alien to his spirit: taking things for granted, regarding events as a natural
course of things. To find an approximate cause of a phenomenon is no answer to his ultimate wonder.
He knows that there are laws that regulate the course of natural processes; he is aware of the
regularity and pattern of things. However, such knowledge fails to mitigate his sense of perpetual
surprise at the fact that there are facts at all. Looking at the world he would say, “This is the Lord’s
doing, it is marvelous in our eyes” (Psalm 118:23). . . .
Heschel’s thoughts preceded the coining of the term “ecopsychology,” the study of the impact of “nature
deficit” on human behavior. Heschel warned of the effects disconnecting from nature might have on
the soul:
As civilization advances, the sense of wonder declines. Such decline is an alarming symptom of our state
of mind. Mankind will not perish for want of information; but only for want of appreciation. The
beginning of our happiness lies in the understanding that life without wonder is not worth living. What
we lack is not a will to believe but a will to wonder.
That disconnection grows when people spend all their day in classrooms and offices and all night in
houses. The disconnection is manifested in our insatiable extraction of resources, resulting in the
ravages of air and water pollution and the wanton disposal of waste. . . . What is missing? Heschel
thinks that the task of religion is to create in us an intelligence to sense, beyond merely following
prescriptive practices:
Awareness of the divine begins with wonder. It is the result of what man does with his higher
incomprehension. The greatest hindrance to such awareness is our adjustment to conventional notions,
to mental clichés. Wonder or radical amazement, the state of maladjustment to words and notions, is
therefore a prerequisite for an authentic awareness of that which is. . . .
On the sixth day, the day when humans and animals were created together, the text of the third day of
Creation is implanted, and God informs us of the purpose of the third day of Creation’s world
encompassing greenery. Simply, to eat. To survive:
And God said, “Look, I have given you all the seed-bearing plants on the face of the earth, and every tree
that has in it seed-bearing fruit—these are yours to eat. And to every land animal, and to every bird of

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 the sky, and to all that creeps on the earth in which is the breath of life, I [give] all green vegetation
for food.”—And so it was. [Genesis 1:29–30]
Through objective appreciation, radical amazement, and collective intelligence, we will learn to protect
and sustain the entirety of this food-bearing, species-filled planet as if it is (and it is) our only
resource. A shared resource for all of earth’s citizens. A world-encompassing shared garden we call
earth, haaretz. (Seven Days, Many Voices, edited by Benjamin David [New York: CCAR Press, 2017],
pp. 99–103)
Guiding questions:
• Alex Cicelsky describes the processes and sights of our world in the words of Jewish philosopher
Abraham Joshua Heschel. Can you understand why? Have you experienced similar moments of awe
and wonder experiencing the natural world in which we live?
• Envision a perfect world. What does nature in your vision look like? What could we as Reform Jews, as
North Americans, and as humans do to make your vision reality?

Rabbi Nikki Lyn DeBlosi, PhD, “Integrating Our Stories: LGTBQ Folks in the Jewish
Community”
When queer folks seek, invent, and claim terms to describe our identities, genders, relationships, and
families, we are engaging in a similar project: we are attempting to acknowledge what is distinct about
us and, at the same time, establish a sense of connection, continuity, and belonging. We are seeking to
know ourselves and to be known. Words help: naming is how God created the world, speaking each
element and creature into existence. . . .
The relationship between Reform Judaism and LGBTQ inclusion has been more complex. At the heart of
our challenge remains the mandate for storytelling. We can read about the long process of officially
supporting anti-discrimination measures, civil rights, marriage equality, and inclusion for LGBTQ
folks by the institutions of the Reform Movement. We can read the words “inclusive” and “welcoming”
on URJ congregations’ websites, not knowing for sure who is being addressed (Gays and lesbians?
Interfaith families? Trans folks? Jews of color?). . . . But we must ask ourselves whether we are
committed to ensuring the visibility not only of folks who are brave enough to name their narrative and
claim the words “lesbian,” “gay,” “bisexual,” “transgender,” or “queer”—but committed also to the
visibility of variety in sexual orientation and gender identity as a positive value. Are we committed to
telling more than one story about what constitutes a valuable and authentically Jewish life? . . .
How crucial is this project? Literally, it is a matter of life and death: I recall sitting across from one
young person who struggled with the self-knowledge of the same-sex desire they could not deny. At the
beginning of their life, this young person declared desperately that they could see only two options for
how their life would proceed: deny and ignore any trace of same-sex desire, lie to self and others, and
enter a heterosexual marriage—or commit suicide. We cannot allow one more person to live under the
illusion that queer Jews have just two choices and that each of them amounts to disappearance. . . .
At the heart of every Reform congregation, beneath an eternal light, the Torah waits to be unrolled each
and every Shabbat, each and every holiday. A scroll of black fire on white fire, the Torah is called a
tree: a living entity that provides shade and fruit and clean air to breathe. The Torah is composed of
stories—and its unfolding continues to this very day. When we proclaim the stories of the Jewish
people, we as Reform Jews must be expansive and generous in that reading. We must acknowledge the

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 exclusions and violences done to and with Judaism against the queer community. We must present
queer lives as equally valuable to straight, cisgender lives. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 517–523).

Guiding questions:
• Rabbi DeBlosi speaks about the importance of storytelling. Do you think we have already arrived at a
story of the Jewish people that is truly inclusive?
• Did community have a conversation on how to provide spaces in which LGTBQ Jews can meet and
speak safely?
• Did community have a conversation on how to provide spaces in which straight Jews can express
possible feelings of confusion, insecurities, and question about LGTBQ Jews and the way in which
they reshape our Jewish story and liturgy?

Rabbi Elyse Goldstein, “When God Meets Gender”

At its inception, Reform Judaism promised equality for women. Now much later, could Reform have
imagined how far the notion of “gender equality” would take us? . . .
At first, those discussions focused around binary definitions of male and female, masculine and feminine.
This revolution began with what I call “equal access feminism.” It was simple: women wanted to have
the same opportunities and the same religious responsibilities as men. Women wanted, in short, to be
fully Jews out of a sense of being allowed to participate the way men did. We imagined women’s
religious equality to mean that women could practice those rituals that had been designated as
historically men’s rituals. In this stage the discussion around gender in Reform settings focused on
women doing what men did.
Second-stage Jewish feminism went further, developing a thoughtful challenge to our theological
language in describing God, and thus a shaking of our foundational assumptions about women, men,
and the whole halachic system. We asked if women’s spirituality was the same as men’s, resting upon
distinctions and separation into categories of difference like milk/meat, holy/profane, male/female. We
didn’t just have women rabbis—those rabbis made us rethink what a rabbi looks like, what a rabbi is,
and what a rabbi does. My male colleagues will admit that with the admission of women to the
rabbinic discussion, we all started to question work-life balance, parenting time, the hierarchies of
synagogue life, the language of the prayer book, and the nature of the synagogue. . . .
And now, in third-stage feminism, in the twenty-first century, the binary understanding of “men” and
“women” itself has been challenged, and the conversation about male and female differences and
similarities also takes into account the full spectrum of gender identification. Today’s feminism leads
the discussion into the less-clear waters of whether gender at all can, should, or will determine, define,
or characterize the way we practice Jewish ritual. . . .
The questions Jewish feminism once raised have so clearly entered our conversation that the tone and
content of Jewish life have been forever altered. A Life of Meaning, pp. 31-36)
Guiding questions:
• Rabbi Goldstein outlines the development of first-stage, second-stage, and third-stage Jewish feminism.
What are the main differences between these stages?
• Recent years have taught us that women rabbis are paid less well than male rabbis. How do you explain
this fact in the context of our communities?

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• Think about a recent wedding, bar or bat mitzvah celebration, or retirement party. Would you agree
with Rabbi Goldstein’s observation that “today’s feminism leads the discussion into the less-clear
waters of whether gender at all can, should, or will determine, define, or characterize the way we
practice Jewish ritual”?

W. Gunther Plaut and Mark Washofsky, “Disabled Persons” Teshuvot for the 1990’s
(1997), pp. 297-304.
Our she’elah asks whether the community or congregation has an express “obligation” in this respect.
The answer is yes with regard to the principle. We deal here with a mitzvah and include it under the
obligations we have with regard to our fellow human beings (mitzvot bein adam l’chaveiro), and the
important part suchmitzvot play in Reform Jewish life and theology. . . .
Without stating what is or what is not possible in a particular community, the following opportunities may
serve as examples:
When we include the disabled in our minyanim, we must attempt to include them fully and facilitate their
participation in the spiritual life of the community. For instance, large-print and Braille prayer books
and texts, hearing aids, sign-language interpreters, wheelchair access to all parts of the synagogue
building and sanctuary, fall under the rubric of mitzvah and present the community with challenges
and opportunities. New technologies will facilitate in-home electronic participation in services and
classes. Sometimes, aesthetics and mitzvah may seem to clash: a ramp for wheelchair access to the
pulpit may present a visual detraction, but it will also be inspiring for the congregation to know that its
religious obligations toward the handicapped have been fulfilled. And obviously, where new buildings
are constructed the needs of the disabled must be taken into consideration in the planning. As Reform
Jews, we should allow for a creative interpretation of the mitzvot that would help to incorporate
disabled persons into the congregation in every respect.
In addition to providing physical facilities, we must provide the handicapped with the education that they
will need to participate fully, or as fully as they can, in the life of the congregation. Where necessary,
several congregations in the city should combine their resources to make this possible. The aim of
inclusion of the disabled is their complete participation in Jewish life. Therefore, we would, for
instance, permit a blind student to read the Torah portion from a Braille Bible, if not from the Torah
scroll itself though this would not constitute a halakhically sanctioned reading, since it may not be
done from memory. We see the mitzvah of including the deaf as overriding the traditional prohibition.
A deaf bar/bat mitzvah student, depending on his/her capacity, could read from the Torah, or write a
speech and have someone else deliver it, or deliver it in sign language him/herself and have an
interpreter speak it to the congregation. Mentally disabled persons could be encouraged to do as much
as possible.
Many of these issues are not only similar to, but directly concern, elderly individuals. Indeed, hearing,
visual, mental and physical disabilities often come as part of the aging process. Just as the Jewish
community has gone out of its way to provide proper facilities for the aged, so should it make adequate
resources available for the mentally and physically disabled of all ages. The fate of the tablets of the
Decalogue describes our obligation: “The tablets and the broken fragments of the tablets were
deposited in the Ark.” There was no separate ark for the broken tablets: they were kept together with
the whole ones.

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In sum, our worth as human beings is based not on what we can do but on the fact that we are created in
God’s image. We should aim for the maximum inclusion of the disabled in the life of our communities.
(Teshuvot for the Nineties [New York: CCAR Press, 1997], pp. 297–304)

Guiding questions:
• Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut, PhD, and Rabbi Mark Washofsky, PhD, provide us with some guidelines to
think about our responsibilities toward persons with disabilities in our communities. Do you share their
sense of “responsibility”?
• Look at your own sanctuary, the synagogue building, the parking lot (if your community has such
places; if not, look at the place you meet to pray, learn, and eat together). Can you imagine what these
places look or feel like to someone who is blind, deaf, sitting in a wheelchair, or mentally ill? Is there
someone close to you whom you could ask this question?

Rabbi Amy Schwartzman, “A Reform Jewish Response to Poverty”

Throughout the spectrum of discussions about poverty—those that are financial and those that go beyond
material needs—Jewish texts clearly state that the best thing we can do for our neighbor in need is to
help her to become fully self-sufficient once again. Poverty is not seen as a permanent state; it is not
held up as an ideal or elevated way to live. Individuals should work to bring themselves out of poverty,
and those who are receiving funds from others are even obligated to participate in tzedakah
themselves. With this in mind, the biblical commandment to lend money without interest is considered
one of the most meritorious forms of dispensing resources to the poor. Perhaps the most well-known
text affirming this approach is Maimonides’s treatise proposing eight levels of giving. The highest
degree “is one who upholds the hand of a Jew reduced to poverty by handing him a gift or a loan, or
entering into a partnership with him, or finding work for him, in order to strengthen his hand, so that
he will have no need to beg from other people” (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Matanot Aniyim 7:7). In
many ways this captures the highest expectations of our engagement with the poor. It preserves
dignity, self-respect, and privacy while providing an individual with the means to achieve self-
sufficiency, all within an interpersonal relationship.
Responding to the needs of others can be a daunting task; thinking about combating poverty in our
greater community, country, or world can be overwhelming. All Jews, no matter the movement with
which they affiliate, must step up. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 546–547)
Guiding questions:
• Many of our communities support food kitchens, food drives, and homeless shelters. Can you think of
projects that will provide an individual with the means to achieve long-term self-sufficiency?
• What could you personally and what could your community do to combat poverty in your family, in
your community, in your city, in our country, and in our world?

Rabbi Rachel S. Mikva, PhD, “Jews and Race”

It is worth examining how Torah illuminates the conundrum of race today, even though we recognize that
“race” is a modern construct; the idea that skin tone represents substantial social or biological
difference was not present in ancient societies. Nonetheless, the Hebrew Bible has quite a lot to say
about the good, the bad, and the ugly of how we form groups, establish boundaries, and evaluate
difference. Space is too short for a thorough survey, but a few texts stand out. . . .

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Tanach . . . teaches, for example, how difference is bound up with power. Just after Torah details the
naturally increasing diversity of humanity, proliferating with peoples and languages after the Flood, it
tells the story of Babel (Genesis 11). A powerful empire arises that imagines all the world the same;
with everyone speaking the same language, nothing is beyond their reach, and they determine to build
a tower with its top up in the heavens. We know of structures that might have inspired such a tale,
ziggurats of the ancient Sumerian and Babylonian Empires.
Jewish tradition has discerned all kinds of potential problems with this project, such as trying to usurp
the throne of God or caring more about the bricks than about the lives of those who fashion them.
Ultimately, however, the story is a critique of empire, of the notion that we maximize human greatness
by privileging one language, one culture, one goal, one truth. Babel illuminates the path of tyranny
and the legacy of racism. It is a
mirror for Western colonialism and white privilege, where power has been confused with normativity,
and “norm” has been confused with good.
At the end of the Babel story, God reestablishes difference, multiplying the languages and scattering the
peoples across the earth. It is not a punishment, but a fulfillment of the divine command after the
Flood: “Be fruitful and multiply; populate the earth and increase in it” (Genesis 9:7). Rabbi Jonathan
Sacks teaches that Judaism begins with a theology of difference: the radical otherness of God should
lead us to respect the radical otherness of diverse languages, nations, cultures, and races. He asserts
that Babel is followed by the call to Abraham because God “turns to one people and commands it to be
different in order to teach humanity the dignity of difference. (A Life of Meaning, pp. 530–532)

Guiding questions:
• In recent years, we witnessed an increasing numbers of hate crimes against the black community,
the immigrant community, the Muslim community—and ourselves. Many of us live, for the first
time in our lives, in fear; we are reminded of our personal or our family’s traumas of the
Holocaust; we wonder in agony how Jewish Israelis have learned to live with constant terror.
How do fear and empathy guide our daily thoughts, words, and actions?
• Which values to we want to uphold in times of fear?

Deuteronomy 30:19
I have put before you life and death, blessing and .‫הַ חַ יִּ ים וְ הַ מָּ וֶת נָתַ ִתּי לְ ָפנֶי� הַ בְּ ָרכָה וְ הַ קְּ ָללָה; וּבָ חַ ְר תָּ בַּ חַ יִּ ים‬
curse. Choose life.

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