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Articles
by Rabbi Zalman Shacter-Shalomi
Soul
Man
Interview by Alice Chasan
In
his 81st year, Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi offers new ways
to enliven Jewish practice and spark spiritual connections.
“Jewish
with Feeling,” the title of the latest book by Rabbi
Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, aptly describes the author’s
robust approach to Judaism. The founding father and spiritual
leader of the Jewish Renewal movement, Rabbi Schachter–Shalomi
has packed more into his 80 years than a dozen ordinary people
combined. Born in Poland, Rabbi Schachter-Shalomi--widely
known as Reb Zalman--fled Nazi-occupied Vienna with his family
in 1939 for Antwerp. They settled in New York City in 1941,
where he studied in the Lubavitcher Hasidic yeshiva. He was
ordained as a Lubavitch rabbi in 1947. He eventually left
the Lubavitch community to pursue other avenues of Jewish
expression. Rabbi Schachter-Shalomi’s spiritual quest
has taken him on a journey of exploration into Eastern traditions;
he has drawn on the spiritual practices of the world’s
religions in his efforts to connect contemporary Jews to a
reinvigorated Judaism. Among Reb Zalman’s many passions,
perhaps none is as important to him at present as the goal
of “Jewish with Feeling”: Connecting “simple
Jews who want a Norman Rockwell Judaism” with the profound
satisfactions of their tradition. He argues that all too many
Jews operate on autopilot, following rituals and mouthing
prayers that have no connection to the heart. And for countless
others, material priorities have pushed the spiritual realm
completely out of the picture. “Jewish with Feeling”
is his latest roadmap for reentry into meaningful Jewish practice,
what the author calls “ensoulment.”
Why
did you decide to write this book after so many years of teaching
about an enlivened Judaism?
I
wanted to write a book to guide people who spend most of their
lives in what I call “commodity time.” Not enough
people are experiencing the wonderful possibilities that are
available in natural, organic time, in sacred time. So that
was one of the reasons that I felt this was important to write.
It is a book for universalists: Jews who care for the planet
and then they wonder, what do you need to be a Jew for? They
have embraced so much of the general culture. They would like
to have a good family life, a good spiritual life. And so
the question was: If I’m so universal, why should I be
Jewish? That is the starting point for many of the people
for whom this book is written.
And
the answer that I’ve been working on for quite a while
had to do with my understanding of the Gaian hypothesis—which
is to say that the planet is a living being, and we are all
parts, cells of that living being. And when you are in such
a situation, you have to be integral to the planet. And then
the question comes up, what do we do with the gentiles?
Each
religion is like a vital organ. If you’re integral to
the planet, it is really important to be the best Jews that
you can be. If we are a healthy, vital organ of the planet,
then the rest of the world will be able to heal, too. Since
I’ve had ecumenical dialogue with Hindus, Buddhists,
Confucionists, Taoists, Christians of all sorts, Muslims,
it was getting very clear that with so many of the people
I had a kinship, such that I didn’t even have to apologize.
I didn’t have to be ashamed to say that I love God. And
once people are in that situation that they too feel that
they have that kind of kinship, then a lot of things happen
in what I call spiritual intimacy.
But
the starting point you recommend for those seeking meaning
within Judaism is to go back within the core of Jewish practice,
and to find meaning inside. Not to go immediately to those
larger concentric circles, to the points of intersection with
other faiths, because that’s largely where contemporary
Jews have already been.
That’s
exactly the point. Today’s Jews come from there. I taught
at Naropa Univeristy (a university in Boulder, Colorado, founded
by Tibetan Buddhist monks, where Rabbi Schachter-Shalomi held
the World Wisdom Chair until his retirement in 2004). I found
quite a number of Jews there; I would say the representation
of Jews at Naropa and other such places is quite great.
Why
do many spiritually searching Jews turn to these other—often
Eastern—traditions first?
I
think there is a great deal of dissatisfaction with the status
quo of what goes under the name of “organized Judaism”
in the United States. The people who have woken up to any
level of awareness are wondering what are they doing there
in the shul (synagogue). It’s not doing anything for
them.
Why?
That
touches an ouch place—the ouch place is the Holocaust,
of course. When people are involved in post traumatic-stress
situations, they have to work hard on it. And we (Jews) haven’t
done the updating yet.
Jews
have held on too tightly to outmoded forms of practice?
We
circled the wagons after the Holocaust. You take a look in
the enclaves of Orthodoxy you have in Brooklyn and in Jerusalem,
and in Monsey, and in other places, and you see that the people
are really afraid to do anything other than follow what has
always been done, because they have a sense that their children
will disappear, they will not be Jews anymore. Holocaust survivors
worry about losing their children to the gentile world. And
they want to impose forms and observances on them that they
never had from their environment, not even at home. Among
families of survivors, there was a lot of denial and repression.
The
other factor is the state of Israel. We became very enamored
of Israel itself, and many times, in the past 50 years, when
you came to an American synagogue, what you got was people
making fundraising appeals. Rosh Hashanah came, and there
was a United Jewish Appeal or an Israel Bond drive in the
midst of the high holiday service. And that wasn’t very
much of an invitation to participate in spiritual life. So
we lost people over time.
Many
organizations dedicated to "Jewish continuity" are
running a heart and lung machine to keep a dying patient alive.
They don’t have a sense of how to build a future for
Judaism, because most of the time they want immediate results.
One of the things that I speak about at Jewish education conferences
is how to create a curriculum that will produce the boddhisatvas
or lamed-vovniks (in Jewish legend the “36 hidden righteous
people” who will redeem the world) for the year 2025.
The mainstream Jewish leadership is not thinking about spiritual
formation. They are interested in immediate results, in the
form of loyalty to a vague thing that's called "Jewish
identity." They foster strong identification with Judaism
that is an inch deep. Ethnic, national, foods, and so on.
There is very, very little content.
So
since 1948, that has been the primary focus for American Jewish
identity?
When
you say “primary focus,” you imply a very high degree
of consciousness. And I’m not sure that we can talk about
a high degree of consciousness when we talk about many of
the things that are happening in the Jewish community.
For
many Jews, is the pull toward Israel as the focus of Jewish
identity an emotional pull, a matter of wish-fulfillment?
And
how we appeared to the world.
But
now we come to the beginning of the 21st century, and we have
a different set of issues and imperatives that are driving
people in their search for connection to Judaism.
Up
until this time, the people I was dealing with in the Jewish
Renewal movement were those who already had direct experience
of spirituality.
They
came out of the 1960s and 1970s with openness to the experiential
level of religion?
Correct.
And with them I had a language of commonality. I just had
to translate the Eastern precepts in a Jewish context.
Are
you still trying to speak to that group, or are you hoping
to broaden the audience for these ideas? This book could be
picked up by anyone, even Jews without any background in Jewish
learning or practice.
That’s
right. This book is for a broader audience. I want them to
get their hands into the practice and their feet wet in spirituality.
For many years, I have stressed the hands-on approach. When
I taught Judaism at Temple University, I looked at the previous
curriculum and found that it was historical—about Hermann
Cohen, Martin Buber, Mordechai Kaplan; the most relevant was
Abraham Joshua Heschel. They hadn’t had the slightest
idea about what a Jewish home was like—how you light
candles, how you kasher meat. So I sent my students to synagogues,
to kosher butchers, so they could have their hands-on experience.
In
1968-69, I was on sabbatical from the University of Manitoba,
in Boston studying Near Eastern languages and literature at
Brandeis. And I taught a course there in psychology of religion.
And most of the things in the first “Jewish Catalogue”
(a ground-breaking countercultural guide to Jewish practice)
came out of term work in my course.
The
“Jewish Catalogue” was a new kind of how-to guide
to Jewish life, but at the same time, it assumed that you
were already immersed in Jewish practice.
Exactly.
But you can introduce a hands-on experience of Judaism to
anyone. At Camp Ramah (a summer camp supported by the Conservative
movement), I worked as a religious environmentalist with the
young people. There we had a tallisareum (a workshop for making
Jewish prayer shawls) and people wrote their own mezuzot (scrolls
with verses from Deuteronomy that Jews affix to their doorways).
I would get horns and show the campers how to make shofarot
(rams horns used in Jewish worship).
Now,
in “Jewish with Feeling,” you are taking your hallmark
hands-on approach to Jewish life and applying it on a much
more basic, entry level.
That's
the point of it, yes.
How
do you think the people who are drawn to Jewish practice in
the spirit of renewal you advocate in this book are going
to fare when they go back into the synagogues and religious
schools that exist in their communities?
I
can’t plan the whole course of their spiritual journey.
Some people are going to look around; they’ll start shul-shopping.
And soon they’ll see that it doesn’t matter what
denomination, because we’re in a post-denominational
time.
You
are empowering Jews to raise questions that may be regarded
as impertinent by people who like the status quo. What do
you say about that?
Gezunterhait!
Enjoy! Deepen it. Wake up to it. Here in Boulder, it’s
a wonderful thing. I help them all. There are two Renewal
congregations, and the conservative and the Reform. And I
join them all.
And
do they welcome you?
They’re
very happy.
I
would think that a lot of rabbis would look at what you’re
telling people to do in this book and they would say, this
guy is a real subversive, because he wants to upset the applecart.
The
people at the Rabbinical Assembly once asked me to come to
teach their rabbis about davvenology (methods of prayer).
And when I come to the conservative shul here, it is my job
to do the prayers for geshem and tal. And I did it in English
with them, with a beautiful nigun (melody). And they’re
very glad I come. When the rabbi goes out of town, he asks
me to pinch-hit for him. And I introduce the Conservative
congregation to things in their own prayerbook.
But
there are an awful lot of Jews who are wedded to the status
quo.
In
1968-69, I was offered the role of chazzan (cantor) in Cambridge,
Massachusetts. And there were three groups of people—the
young people who loved it; the old-timers who loved it, because
the could shokl (sway in prayer) along, and they would daven
along in Hebrew. And then there was the middle group—the
pillars of the synagogue, who paid the bills and ran the place
like a business, and these were the people who couldn’t
stand what I was doing.
So
you agree that some people will be inspired by your new book
and take your ideas into their synagogue, and wind up being
marginalized for putting these ideas forward?
It
depends on the synagogue. Harold Shulweis, a Conservative
rabbi in California, is using a lot of the things that I’m
doing. It’s a huge congregation, he’s an old war-horse,
and he’s doing wonderful work. Most seminaries don’t
have the sense to invite the old war-horses to come and teach
their students. They have people teaching who have never led
a congregation. So their students come out of 5, 6 years in
seminary and know nothing about how to conduct a spiritually
enlivening service.
So
should rabbis be reading your book as well as people at an
elementary level? Is it a roadmap for teachers as well as
students?
Of
course. When I go out and teach in a larger context, I invite
the rabbis to see it as a a lesson, an example.
This
book has a very gentle approach to introducing people to prayer
and spirituality. You’re telling them to take their time.
No need to be a speed-davener. You say in the book that good
prayer, like good sex, takes time. So in a sense you are upsetting
the applecart even in the Jewish Renewal community, where
there is an emphasis on prowess in Jewish practice. You’re
saying, welcome into your community people who are not so
adept in spiritual practice, who might be stumbling along.
Yes.
And I’ll give you an example. I was in Jerusalem on Sukkot.
And a lot of Christians come to Jerusalem on Sukkot because
of the belief that the holiday foreshadows prophecies of the
end-times. So I go to Hechal Shlomo (the Temple of Solomon),
and I see some Africans there wearing kippot (skullcaps),
and being very uncomfortable, and yet wanting to understand
and participate. No one bothered to sit with them. I went
around and collected a few siddurim from people that had translations
in them. And I sat with them and explained it to them the
parallels to their religion.
Are
Jews willing to do that with other Jews who are ignorant of
the practices?
There
used to be some people who were the machers (big shots) in
the shul. The macher was the one who knew the siddur (weekly
and Sabbath prayer book) by heart, and lord it over people
if they couldn’t do it. And that would infantilize people.
That’s not the best thing to do.
How
should the spiritually adept Jew receive the initiate into
the synagogue?
For
instance, in our Renewal congregations, I have a few of my
siddurim that are translated into the vernacular, and I hand
them to newcomers and show them where we are so that they
can participate in English. Make eye contact with someone
who looks like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.
And walk over to that person, make him comfortable, sit in
the back with him, introduce him to what you know.
Alice
Chasan is a senior editor at Beliefnet.
Articles
by Rabbi Zalman Shacter-Shalomi
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