Slate has an interesting article about the faltering of Conservative Judaism. As neither ultra-conservative like the Orthodox, nor ultra-liberal like the Reform branch, Conservative Judaism has, according to this piece, had a hard time negotiating the tensions between tradition and modernity from a principled position:
Take the issue of the ordination of gay rabbis. It’s a no-brainer for Reform Jews, who allow it because they place precedence on personal choice above biblical mandates, and for the Orthodox, who bar it because they believe that the Torah strictly prohibits gay sex. But for Conservatives, it’s a crisis, because the movement lacks a clear theology to navigate between the poles of tradition and change, even as the gap between them becomes ever wider. As a result, the decision to admit openly gay rabbinical students to JTS [New York’s Jewish Theological Seminary] has been bitterly contested, tabled, avoided, and fought over for the last half-dozen or so years. [Outgoing chancellor Ismar] Schorsch has said in previous interviews that advocates for the ordination of gay rabbis are bending and manipulating Halakha rather than looking at it honestly. His despair over this issue surely motivated some of the ferocity of his speech.
But Conservative Judaism has never adequately explained how its rabbis or congregants should decide which aspects of modern times are worth adjusting the law to, and which aren’t. The decision in 1972 to ordain women rabbis at JTS wasn’t advocated by the institutions’ Talmudic scholars but by a committee of lay people. They made many strong moral and ethical arguments for ordaining women, but they couldn’t ground their stance coherently in Jewish law.
Still earlier, in 1961, the Conservative movement issued a ruling permitting driving on Shabbat—but only to synagogue. Orthodox Jews, by contrast, observe the prohibition against driving and build their neighborhoods around their synagogues and each other’s homes. There is something powerful about this decision: The foundation of the community is a countercultural value that requires some sacrifice in the name of a higher purpose. While it might be possible to read Jewish law to permit driving on Shabbat or ordaining a woman rabbi, both of those choices seem motivated by a reluctant acquiescence to the demands of the time rather than by a deep and reverent reading of the texts. Orthodox Jews also change the law—you won’t find any of them following the Torah’s injunction to forgive all loans every seven years, or to stone a rebellious child—but they do so in a way that has internal coherence.
Though there are obvious differences, this strikes me as the same kind of dilemma that Christians of what could broadly be called “the center” are facing. A more liberal revisionist brand of Christianity sees no problem throwing over much of the tradition if it seems to serve the cause of inclusion, justice, or compassion. Meanwhile, traditionalists reject innovations like women’s ordination and birth control (much less the blessing of same-sex unions and the ordination of noncelibate gay people) on the grounds of continuity with and fidelity to the tradition. Christians of the center, meanwhile, have difficulty providing a satisfying and principled account of why they accept some innovations and reject others (for instance, retaining traditional language for God, a high Christology, and doctrine of Scripture’s inspiration while affirming women’s ordination or other “revisionist” moral positions). They can end up looking unprincipled and lukewarm to both their liberal and traditionalist coreligionists.
The article concludes:
Liberal denominations of any faith tend to make a religion out of tolerance and humanistic values. But this misses some of the point of faith. There is a sweetness, intensity, and pleasure that comes from religious practice that isn’t wholly rational.
Earlier in this century, the common wisdom was that Orthodox Judaism would die out in America, outmoded and irrelevant. Instead, it’s the American Jewish center that’s eroding. Conservative Judaism, once the most popular Jewish denomination in the United States, has recently taken second place to the more clearheaded Reform movement. About 33 percent of American Jews affiliate with Conservative Judaism, down from 38 percent 10 years ago. And interestingly, as the Reform movement swells, to a lesser degree, so do the numbers of Orthodox. And as sociologist Samuel Heilman shows in his recent book, Sliding to the Right, the form of Orthodoxy that’s on the rise is the more extremist and isolationist sort—the congregations and movements that are deliberately at odds with American norms.
The project of looking squarely at the demands of our time and Jewish texts is both true to Jewish tradition and badly needed at this particular historical moment, and I wish it didn’t seem to be faltering. People of all faiths who are trying to hold the middle ground need to get up a little more “nerve,” as Schorsch put it—some oomph, confidence, joyfulness. Although I don’t think he said it in the right way or at the right time, I hope some of Schorsch’s zeal makes it way to staid suburban synagogues.

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