September 14, 2011 / 15 Elul 5771
It’s been nearly 60 years since Marshall Sklare referred to Conservative Judaism in his pioneering sociological study—Conservative Judaism: An American Religious Movement—as “Orthodoxy in transition,” and almost 40 since Sklare’s afterword to the book’s second edition expressed surprise that the Conservative Movement had not only held its own in the meantime but become, by far, the most successful American Jewish denomination. I cannot make that claim today. Just as social and cultural forces assisted the rise of Conservative Judaism over many decades in the 20th century, such forces (and others, too) now help to weaken affiliation with Conservative (and other) synagogues, schools, and organizations. What I can say, however—and want to stress as we conclude this particular series of blog conversations and look forward to the future—is that Conservative Judaism now, as much as ever, has the message and the means to make a major impact on the ways Jewish tradition is taught, practiced, and revitalized in North America and beyond.
The emphasis in these posts has fallen on-message, though I and those who engaged me in dialogue have paid ample attention to “means” in postings about community, education, mitzvah, prayer, and Jewish relations to the larger world. Nothing I have read or heard in the last year on this site or others has changed my view that with better communication of what Conservative Judaism stands for, better “quality control” in synagogues and schools, and a restructuring of how the various Conservative organizations operate (one that ensures more coordination than in the past)——the prospects for Conservative Judaism are excellent. I can say that soberly and confidently—and not only out of hope and desire—because the Torah is a tree of life to those who hold fast to it. Because Conservative Judaism is a path that is joyful and profound, attractive and compelling; one that offers the meaning that contemporary Jews need to live rightly and well and to raise their children that way. Because Conservative Judaism is a recipe for building communities that are vibrant and engaging.
What is more, if one traces the historical arc of Conservative Judaism from its founding by Zacharias Frankel in the middle of the 19th century through Schechter’s restatement of core principles at the start of the 20th and further revisions by Finkelstein, Heschel, Kaplan, and others in the middle of the 20th century, one sees—as my students and I did in the course I taught on the subject last spring—that Conservative Judaism exemplifies its slogan of “tradition and change.” I am not a big fan of that slogan, because it seems to say that “tradition” and “change” are opposites that need balancing, and that “tradition” is an object—like a Torah scroll, say—that is passed down from generation to generation, withstanding or succumbing to revisions along the way. I see tradition, rather, as a process of constant change-within-continuity and continuity-within-change. We are faithful to our tradition when we alter it lovingly and with learning from inside devoted practice and commitment.