Faith and Spirituality
by Rabbi Elizabeth Tikvah Sarah
When I began working as Director of Programmes
for the Reform Synagogues of Great Britain in October 1994,
and took responsibility for managing seventeen different programmes,
from Social Action through Music to Medical Ethics, involving
eleven variously part-time members of staff, I was given the
task of creating a new initiative on ‘Faith and Spirituality.’
At first glance it may seem a little odd that the long list
of activities that defined the core tasks of Reform Judaism
didn’t already include Faith and Spirituality. But the
fact is that until relatively recently – say the past
fifteen years or so – very few Jewish denominations, with
the exception of those engaged with the Kabbalah, the tradition
of Jewish Mysticism, were directly engaged with the spiritual
dimension of Judaism.
In general, mainstream Judaism of all persuasions
– including Liberal Judaism – has always taken
issues of faith and spirituality for granted. There is only
one simple theological idea at the heart of Judaism, and that
is that the God Jews address as ‘Eloheynu’, ‘our
God’, the God with whom we share a sacred covenant,
is ‘Echad’, ‘One’ – the Creator
of the entire world. Although every aspect of Jewish life
flows from this understanding - and we find it reiterated
in the liturgy, again and again – throughout the generations
of our people, faith and spirituality have not been central
concerns.
And then two things happened - one internal; one external:
Although Jews have always questioned God and wrestled with God,
from the days of Abraham and Sarah onwards, after the Shoah,
that questioning became a huge howl of anguish echoing in a
fathomless void. Meanwhile, as the twentieth century progressed,
religious life receded across much of the Western world in the
face of the mass secularisation of mainstream culture. Faith
seemed to have reached its sell-by date.
But that has not been the end of it. During the past few decades
religion has been making a great come-back right in the heartland
of the most secular of secular societies. A large part of this
religious revival has taken the form of a conservative back-lash
against modernity and its freedoms – an attempt to turn
back the clock and return the world to the old certainties and
non-negotiable fundamentals. The fundamentalist agenda, which
has taken many forms – Christian, Jewish, Muslim and Hindu
– has grabbed a number of secular societies by the throat,
and also grabbed the headlines as extremist rhetoric has provoked
extremist acts – not least, the terrifying events of September
11th 2001.
For dedicated sceptics everywhere, the rise of Fundamentalism
is both horrifying and reassuring - since it serves to reinforce
the view that religion is the root of all evil. But the picture
of religious renaissance is actually more complex. Since the
gentle ‘flower power’ revolution in the 1960s, millions
of people who reject religious dogma and want nothing whatever
to do with religious institutions of any kind, have been engaged
in a search for meaning and wholeness, which has involved in
all the different forms it has taken, exploration of the accumulated
wisdom of humanity over millennia, including pagan rituals as
well as the teachings and practices of the various world religions.
And so, alongside the absolutist reassertion of religious totalitarianism,
we are also witnessing a thirst for spiritual renewal on the
part of individuals dissatisfied both with the rigidity of the
established religions and the shallow materialism of secular
culture.
So, where do we fit in? Still traumatised by the Shoah, all
Jews share a searing burden of grief and loss, as well as the
gifts of our heritage, but do we share anything else? Is it
actually possible to make global statements about the Jewish
people today on any subject, let alone faith and spirituality!
Two Jews: three opinions? How about multiplying that thirteen
million times! I cannot and would not speak on behalf of the
Jewish people. I can and will speak for myself – and also
try to explore what we are thinking and where we are going as
progressive Jews, involved both in this congregation, and also
in the wider arena of Liberal Judaism in this country.
The founders of Liberal Judaism, Lily Montagu, Claude Montefiore
and Rabbi Israel Mattuck were deeply religious people. From
its inception, Liberal Judaism valued faith and intellectual
honesty above ritual observance, and while the Shoah provoked
a gradual re-appraisal of the value of the particular practices
that colour Jewish life, the catch-phrase of Liberal Judaism
remains unchanged: ‘Sincerity in worship; integrity in
action.’ So, when the new Shabbat and Daily Prayer Book,
Siddur Lev Chadash, was published in 1995, it combined a more
traditional approach to prayer and ritual with a classical liberal
emphasis on truth and meaning. But that is not all. Siddur Lev
Chadash was, as its Hebrew name suggests, the Prayer Book of
a ‘new heart’ – ‘lev chadash’.
What does that mean? As congregations around the country were
adjusting to the replacement of ‘Service of the Heart’
by a new Prayer Book, most people were so preoccupied with grappling
with everything that was new and unfamiliar about Siddur Lev
Chadash, they didn’t give much time to exploring the implications
of its name. Eight years on, with a new Prayer Book for the
High Holy Days on the scene, which includes the words ‘new
spirit’ in its title, perhaps the time has come for us
to reflect on the significance of these names, Siddur Lev Chadash
and Machzor Ruach Chadashah? Why a ‘new heart’ and
a ‘new spirit’?
The simple answer is that both names are derived from a quotation
from the Book of Ezekiel, chapter 36, verse 26, printed at the
front of each Prayer Book: ‘I will give you a new heart
and put a new spirit within you.’ – ‘V’natati
lev chadash v’ru’ach chadashah eteyn b’kirb’cha.’
But that doesn’t explain why this quotation has become
our new source of inspiration. What does it mean to speak of
a ‘new heart’ and a ‘new spirit’ within
Liberal Judaism in Britain today?
While the core values of Liberal Judaism have remained unchanged,
when Siddur Lev Chadash was published in 1995 it was clear to
see that something very new was going on. The Hebrew word for
‘heart’, lev or levav, actually encompasses the
mind as well as the emotions, since the heart was seen as the
organ of thought in ancient Judaism. So, the expression a ‘new
heart’ suggests a new understanding, or approach, or awareness.
Turning the pages of Siddur Lev Chadash as we have done, again
and again, over the past eight years, it is clear that it reflects
contemporary culture’s new understanding of the role of
language in making people feel included – or excluded
– as well as a new approach to the place of ritual in
Liberal Jewish practice, and a new awareness of the importance
of linking the tradition of Liberal Judaism to the broader heritage
of the Jewish people. One of the lovely paradoxes we encountered
when we first opened Siddur Lev Chadash is that it is both very
new – the most advanced Shabbat and Daily Prayer Book
in use in Britain today, which among other innovations, includes
a covenant service for new born girls - and also very old: returning
us to the importance of Hebrew as the universal Jewish language
– and so, to reading from right to left - to the traditional
structure of Jewish prayer, and to some texts and rituals, which
Liberal Judaism had previously set aside.
Of course, what may be a lovely paradox for one person may
be quite bewildering for another – that’s where
ruach chadashah, a ‘new spirit’, becomes so important.
The translation, ‘spirit’ is actually a bit misleading.
There is no word for ‘spirituality’ in Hebrew, and
no concept of Spirituality in Judaism. The primary meaning of
ruach is ‘wind’. It is used for the first time in
Torah, right at the very beginning, in Genesis chapter 1, verse
2, to describe ‘the wind of God hovering over the face
of the waters’ – ‘v’ruach Elohim m’rachefet
al-p’ney hamayyim’ – as the Italian commentator,
Umberto Cassuto, explained, rather like a mother-bird brooding
over the young in her nest (A Commentary on the Book of Genesis.
Part One. The Magnes Press, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem
, 1961, pp.24-25). And then, just two chapters further on, associated
with God again, the word ruach helps to convey the way in which
the first human beings experienced the presence of God moving
around in the Garden of Eden as they hid among the trees. Literally,
the text at Genesis chapter 3, verse 8 says, ‘They heard
the voice of the Eternal God walking itself in the garden at
the wind of the day’ – ‘Vayishm’u et-kol
Adonai Elohim mithalleych bagan l’ruach hayyom.’
How does a voice walk itself around? The first human beings
did not so much hear God speaking as feel a presence in the
wind rustling the leaves. Later on, at Exodus chapter 31, verse
3 we read that the chief artisan of the Tabernacle, Betzalel,
is ‘filled’ with ‘the spirit of God’
– ruach Elohim – ‘in wisdom, in discernment,
and in knowledge, and in all kinds of work.’ In other
words ‘the spirit of God’ is translated into Betzalel’s
tangible qualities – most important of which is his ability
‘to work in gold, and in silver, and in brass, / and in
the cutting of stones for setting, and in the carving of wood,
to make [things] in all kinds of work’ (:4-5). Contrary
to the tendency to split spirit from matter in some contemporary
religious movements, ruach only has meaning in the context of
action. If ruach can be said to reside within us, then it is
the creative force that we express through our deeds.
So, when we talk of a ‘new spirit’
within Liberal Judaism it would be more accurate to speak
of a new creative impulse, a new commitment to honour our
creativity, taking shape in myriad creative acts. In practice,
this means that while ‘service of the heart’,
in the form of Shabbat and festival worship in the synagogue,
remains central to Liberal Judaism, more emphasis is now placed
on the daily round of Jewish action of all kinds within the
congregation, in our homes, and in the wider community in
which we live. That is why, like other congregations within
our movement, BHPS has become such a hive of activity recently.
That is why, for example, in addition to weekly Siddur-based
Shabbat services, our Shabbat activities have expanded to
include twice-monthly Chavurah meals, where people share the
results of their creative culinary exploits and have a chance
to socialise together, as well as monthly Erev Shabbat Creative
prayer opportunities and weekly Shabbat morning study sessions,
which encompass a variety of different approaches to celebration
and learning. That is why I’ve introduced Access to
Hebrew and Access to Judaism programmes, which focus as much
on doing as on thinking, and which are open to all people,
and all levels of knowledge and experience. That is why our
building refurbishment project has included, in addition to
overall re-decoration, the creation of a modern kitchen, the
transformation of the Montefiore Hall into a pleasant social
space, the development of the Council Room into an accessible
and comfortable library-cum-reading room-cum- study area,
and the beautifying of the Sanctuary, which will soon be enhanced
with the addition of two magnificent mosaics, one of the burning
bush, and one of the divided Sea of Reeds.
There is no doubt that we can sense a new spirit at work within
these walls – and also beyond them, in our homes, and
in the efforts of KIT, the Keeping in Touch Group to reach our
members and friends in need. Of course, there is so much more
we could do – particularly in the area of social action.
The important point is that the new spirit in Liberal Judaism
is about bringing our creative energies together so that Judaism
lives in our lives. The verse from the prophet Ezekiel, which
speaks of a ‘new heart and a ‘new spirit’,
goes on to say, ‘I will remove the heart of stone from
your flesh and give you a heart of flesh’ – ‘vahasiroti
et-lev ha’even mib’sarchem, v’natati lachem
lev basar’ (36:26): It is so easy for religions of all
denominations to become fixed and rigid like stone, to degenerate
into idolatry, either by becoming fixated on outward forms,
or by becoming spiritualised and detached from the material
world. Good religion is dynamic, encompassing the whole of life,
and all of who we are, as we grow and change. Ultimately, ruach
chadashah, the new spirit at work both within our congregation
and within the wider Liberal movement, is about each and every
one of us engaging with the revelations and the gifts of both
the past and the present, as well as with one another, to ensure
that the heart of Liberal Judaism is a heart of flesh, pulsating
and alive. May the new Prayer book we are inaugurating this
New Year inspire us to rise to the challenge. And let us say:
Amen.
Rabbi Elizabeth Tikvah Sarah is rabbi of Brighton
& Hove Progressive Synagogue
This sermon was given on Rosh Hashanah
Shacharit 5764 – 27th September 2003
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