In the first part of his watershed work, Imperialism and Jewish Society: 200 B.C.E to 640 C.E., Seth Schwartz, the Gerson D. Cohen Professor of History at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, argues “that imperial support for the central national institutions of the Jews, the Jerusalem temple and the Pentateuch, helps explain why these eventually became the chief symbols of Jewish corporate identity” (14). To support his claim, Schwartz briefly surveys Jewish history from 539 B.C.E. to 70 C.E.

With the exception of Antiochus IV, every imperial power in Judea, between 539 B.C.E. and 70 C.E., sponsored the Jerusalem temple and the Torah as the Jews’ constitution. In 539 B.C.E. King Cyrus the Great of the Achaemenid Empire conquered the Babylonians in Jerusalem. In the year after, he issued the Declaration of Cyrus, inviting all previously conquered and expelled peoples back to the land, encouraging them to restore their holy places and return to their ways of worship. For the Jews, Cyrus then sponsored the rebuilding of the Temple, completed in 516/515 B.C.E., and authorized the “Law of Moses” as the official law for the Jews. Ruled by the Greeks from 333 B.C.E. to 63 B.C.E., the Jews continued to have relative autonomy.  Although the Greeks did not support the Jerusalem temple and the Torah as actively as the Persians did, “they no where actively forced their own language or culture on their subjects” (Schwartz 26). Nothing really changes under the Romans until 70 C.E. “The Romans…allowed the Jews to remain a more or less autonomous nation centered on the Jerusalem temple and governed by the laws of the Torah” (Schwartz 43). In each of these cases, Schwartz’s argument holds true. The Persians, the Greeks, and the Romans all, either actively supported or accepted the Jews’ way of life as dictated by the Torah and put into focus by the Temple. Because of their involvement with these institutions, it only makes sense that they would impacted how “the Jerusalem temple and the Pentateuch…became the chief symbols of Jewish corporate identity” (Schwartz 14).

But on second thought, it appears that Schwartz’s thesis has another aspect to it, chiefly: “imperial support for the central national institutions of the Jews, the Jerusalem temple and the Pentateuch, helps explain why these eventually became the chief symbols of Jewish corporate identity [Emphasis added]” (14). Clearly, the powers that ruled over the Jews facilitated, in some form or another, the continued dominance of the Jerusalem temple and Torah, but can one go as far as to say that the foreign powers actually shaped the Temple and the Pentateuch into the main symbols of Jewish identity as a whole? The majority of scholars, having come to accept Schwartz’s arguement, would reply “Yes.” Ensuring relative unity among its peoples was in the best interests of every ruling power. Contentions within Judaism and any other group of people would have complicated the ruling government’s ability to satisfy its “citizens,” thus making it more difficult to retain their power.

Why does any of the above matter; how could it possibly have any impact on Jewry today? To answer this question, we must realize that Schwartz’s scholarship really focuses on a fundamental question: that of identity. “Who creates Jewish identity: Gentiles or Jews?”

If we look back at the history presented above, the answer seems to favor Gentiles. They had the ability to forbid Jews from worshipping at the Temple and from basing their lives on the teachings of the Torah. But they did not.

On the other hand though, the roots of the Torah and the temple cult stem from the Jews’ predecessors, the Israelites. They started these traditions, not the Persians, Greeks, or Romans.

However we understand the origins of the Temple and the Torah, we must realize that the Jews’ self-perceived identity during the Persian Period differed from that during the Greek Period and from that of the Roman one. It seems unlikely to surmise that the changes in power alone influenced how the Jews saw themselves; this would imply that, had the rulers not changed, the Jews themselves would have stayed the same. We must reject this notion, because as people grow they see themselves differently. With neither the imperial powers alone shaping Jewish identity nor the Jews shaping it themselves, it seems that a combination of the two did the job.

But what about now? Who creates Jewish identity in today’s world where gloablization connects everyone, spreading diversity but simultaneously imposing dominant cultures on minorities and thereby threatning to wipe them out? In our case, what makes a Jew a Jew? We have a whole host of answers including food, language, belief, ethnicity, nationality, customs, culture, etc. Yet none of these answers alone seem to qualify Jews. Many Jews no longer keep kosher, and those that do have much in common with Muslims that keep hallal. Jews no longer just speak Hebrew or Yiddish, and those that do share the language with Gentiles. Judaism has never had a set dogma, and belief has never really united Jews, except for the qualification that the Messiah, if one believes in it, has not yet come. Moreover, Jews come from many different ethnicities and countries. Ashkenazim have different cutsoms than do the Sephardim. And Jewish culture means something different to everyone.

So, who/what creates Jewish identity? Because most of us no longer live under foreign rulers, shaping how we practice our Judaism, Jews shape their own identity. Thus, self-identification remains the only answer. I see myself as Jew for different reasons than for the ones that you do, but we both see each ourselves as Jews!

Admittedly, this answer does not seem satisfying enough, but until a better one comes around, we must accept it.

Works Cited:

Seth Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society: 200 B.C.E to 640 C.E., (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001), 14, 26, 43.

Born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, David Bloom attends Indiana University Bloomington where he majors in Jewish Studies and Religious Studies.  His column, J-Studs, appears here on alternating Saturdays.

My last post, “How Do We/I Connect to God,” mentioned several ways to revitalize Reform and Conservative Judaism. One of these avenues relied on self-exploration and creating one’s own personalized Judaism. This leads to the question of how to keep the Jewish community together when everyone practices differently. Some historical analysis is very helpful in gaining perspective on this issue.

The Second Temple Period marks one of Judaism’s most prominent efflorescences vis-à-vis scriptural interpretation and expression of Judaism. Indeed, scholars often speak not only of multiple sects of Judaism but of a variety of Judaisms; groups such as the Sadducees, the Pharasees, the Essenes, the Siccari, the Fourth Philosophy, the Zealots, and the Dead Sea Scrolls Community.

The destruction of the Second Temple in 70 C.E. provided rabbis with the opportunity to assert their power. Their rare ability to interpret texts gave them the authority to squelch dissent, and while they did face opposition, it remains true that normative Judaism as it exists today derives from Rabbinic Judaism. Arguably, if the myriad expressions of Judaism had continued developing, the Jewish community today would not truly function as a community.

Obviously, we cannot act like the rabbis, for while Judaism began as the property of the elite, it has long since been democratized.  Every Jew has the right to observe Judaism as she or he sees fit. What options are we left with for preserving the integrity of the Jewish community?

No easy solution exists, and none of the above questions will yield much of an answer. Ultimately we need to focus on a deeper issue: what makes someone a Jew? To this question, no answer exists, for Judaism lacks a dogma. We can only say that a Jew does not believe in multiple gods nor does he or she consider Jesus the son of God.

These answers do not provide much in the way of absolutes, and they certainly do not satiate the need to answer this question. I do not have any answers, and I welcome all your suggestions.

That Judaism has survived as long as it has and that it continues to evolve as it always has, despite the seemingly-insurmountable challenges thrown in its way, is proof of Judaism’s strength. Even if it becomes more varied than ever before (an unlikely prospect), I strongly believe that it will continue to survive, one way or the other.

Shabbat Shalom v’Tzum Kal.

Born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, David Bloom attends Indiana University Bloomington where he majors in Jewish Studies and Religious Studies.  His column, J-Studs, appears here on alternating Saturdays.

The destruction of the Second Temple in 70 C.E. was a watershed moment in Jewish history.  With Roman control of Judea making the idea of rebuilding a third temple impossible, the question became not so much as where to meet God but as how to meet God, for the Temple’s destruction eliminated Jews’ ability to  participate in the sacrificial cult, their primary means of communicating with Adonai.  Forced to adapt, the Rabbis looked at biblical texts, interpreting them to find answers like the one that Psalm 40:7-8 presents, reading, “You do not desire sacrifice and meal offering; You do not ask for burnt offering and sin offering. Then I said…To do what please You, my God, is my desire; Your teaching is in my inmost parts” (JPS). Understanding that God no longer wanted sacrifices (Ps. 40:7-8), the Rabbis slowly developed a number of supplications to replace burnt offerings. Prayer solved the how of connecting to God, and the local synagogues simply served as God’s meeting place.

In my last post, “Where Do We Meet God?” I addressed Reform and Conservative Jews’ (college- and graduate-aged) increased apathy for the synagogue. While some might posit that this phenomenon evidences the need to revitalize the temple in general, such an opinion misses the point entirely. The source of the problem lies in how clergy and lay leaders present Judaism to their constituents, for while they cannot change Judaism’s essence, they do determine how to frame it, often doing so in a stale manner, teaching Judaism as a passive religion which chooses to connect to God only through traditional prayer and traditional forms of study. While these methods have great merit, as they work for some people (myself included), the fact that they increasingly estrange others remains. Whereas Jews in the Rabbinic period and in the recent past connected to God primarily through prayer, the majority of this generation does not. This generation wants less performance and more interaction, less “talking at” and more “discussing with,” less hesitation and more action.  Perhaps most importantly, this generation wants fewer answers and more questions.

For too long, many clergy and lay leaders have presented prayer, practice, and participation in Judaism in a set manner. Because of these leaders’ authority within the community, their way became the only way,  prevailing to this day. But here lies the problem: they present Judaism in a box, but it means different things to different people.  Here, then, lies the answer to the underlying question, “how do we connect to God?”  To connect, we must first connect to Judaism, and, through it, approach God in the manner best suited for us.

Re-amping  Reform and Conservative Judaism requires that  its leaders first recognize that no one has the exact same idea of God. But this understanding alone will not suffice. While some rabbis and laity already acknowledge this fact, few if any (I have yet to meet one), consciously make the effort to publicize this idea; thus, a sorry disconnect forms. This generation seeks a community that both accepts and promotes pluarlism. This generation sees just another group of Jews stuck in their ways, unwilling to change. And the rabbi and administration of that synagogue wonder, “We have all of these different programs to offer. We don’t define God, we accept different forms of practice, and we encourage exploration. Why do our numbers continue to dwindle?” If only more people would actively inform others that some pluralistic synagogues exist.

But what about those schuls, still stuck in the past? They need to understand that Jews search for a vibrant community, one that touts different practices and beliefs. Having acknowledged this, they should make it known that they encourage pluralism, right? Wrong. Believing in pluralism is vital, but without a vehicle through which to engage in one’s own beliefs, its acceptance is worthless.

Second, they must develop a variety of avenues through which people can connect. Such avenues could include temple youth groups, alternative services, continuing Jewish education, “Introduction to Judaism” classes, Jewish cooking classes, instruction on Israeli dance, business classes with local Jewish entrepreneurs,  intramural sports, gardening at the temple, and much, much more. Simply teaching the melodies for different prayers during services can have a dramatic impact on the congregation’s enjoyment. To attract this generation of Jews, clergy and laypeople need to have the ability not only to permit current Jewish tunes (from people such as Debbie Friedman, Craig Taubman, and Dan Nichols) but they themselves must enjoy using them.  Nothing worse exists than a rabbi who displays no excitement or joy in his or her job. Without a smile on his or her face, the ruach in the congregation does not even die; it never comes into being in the first place.

Only after developing these programs can communities advertise to the outside world that, “Yes, we LOVE people who worship in different ways, who hold unique beliefs, and who see Judaism from a different perspective. Please, come to this community. We would love to have you not only in our community but making it.”

The task at hand presents many challenges. Will the older generation accept the idea of pluralism and enjoy it themselves? Will new opportunities develop within synagogues to affirm Judaism’s great strength, that no single dogma defines how to practice its way of life? Will leaders let this generation know that their community not only understands pluralism but encourages it? Once all of the above happens, the question of “where do we meet God” will no longer exist, for “how do we/I meet God” will have replaced the former. No one has the one true answer; it differs for every single person.

Of course, all of this raises an issue: if each person develops his/her own form of Judaism, what will keep the community together? I will address this topic in my next post.  Until then, I thank you for taking the time out of your day to delve into my thoughts, and I welcome your comments. Until then, Shabbat Shalom v’Shanah Tovah um’tukah.

Born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, David Bloom attends Indiana University Bloomington where he majors in Jewish Studies and Religious Studies.  His column, J-Studs, appears here on alternating Saturdays.

In 586 B.C.E., the Babylonians, under King Nebuchadnezzar, decimated the Temple in Jerusalem, forever ending ancient Israelite culture.  With the Temple destroyed and most of its worshipers exiled to Babylon, it seemed that God had left His “Chosen People.”  Yet, after defeating the Babylonians in 539 B.C.E., King Cyrus the Great of the Persian Achaemendid Empire issued a decree in 538 B.C.E., inviting the Jews back to their land where he fully supported the rebuilding of the Temple. With the Second Temple rebuilt circa 516 B.C.E., the Jews could once again meet God in His earthly house.

But where do we meet God now?  The Romans destroyed the Second Temple in 70 C.E., and another Temple proper has yet to make an appearance (and, considering the current political situation, it seems unlikely that one ever will).  God no longer visits His people en masse as He did when living at  26 Temple Sq., Jerusalem, Israel, 91000. With the advent of Rabbinic Judaism (and its successor “normative Judaism”) which initially stemmed from Pharasaic Judaism, it seems that God would visit the Jews in the local synagogue.  Today, many still believe this, at least figuratively.  But a problem presents itself: the schul no longer serves as the locus of all Jewish life.  People attend services less frequently than they used to, and do not study on a regular basis.  Social life within the temple has virtually vanished.

Polls indicate that more and more Jews of the coming generation (college- and graduate-aged), especially those of the Reform and Conservative movements, see no reason to become members of synagogues.  Some feel estranged from their denomination or movement, others simply get nothing out of it.  Some prefer to daven online.  Regardless of the reason, it seems clear: in the next generation, the temple will barely serve the Jewish community at all, except for the High Holidays and life-cycle events.  With this in mind, we must re-ask ourselves: where do we meet God?

The time has come for each of us to ponder this question individually.  I know Him in my first breath of waking, as my soul is returned to me.  I meet Him on the street, when my eyes fall upon a stranger’s face.  I see him in the sky, the twinkling stars, His eyes, winking at me.  I feel Him in the wind and warm sun, the breeze caressing my face and the heat embracing me.  I hear Him in the sound of the birds, their voices so pure and sweet.  I smell Him in the flowers, their scent refreshing my soul.  I taste Him in all that I find good to eat, my vitality restored.  I remember Him before I go to bed, to rest my body.  He watches over me as I sleep, my dreams His creation, and of course, I meet Him during prayer at temple.  In short, I meet God everywhere, or at least try to realize so, and while this works for me, it might not for everyone else.

Thus, we find ourselves, ironically, in the same position as long ago.  The destruction of the First Temple tore at the very fiber of Israelite society, and everyone knew it.  The people felt it necessary to meet God daily; they had to rebuild his house, and they did.  Today, we have many temples, yet few attract our generation.  Jews of today do not make a conscious effort to talk to God, and we might not even notice that we do not.

So if we do not make the effort in the synagogue, how can we meet God?  Where do we meet God?

Born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, David Bloom attends Indiana University Bloomington where he majors in Jewish Studies and Religious Studies.  His column, J-Studs, appears here on alternating Saturdays.