Jews and Quakers, Law and Grace

Max Carter, the head of campus Ministry at Guilford College, tells me that I should wrestle with the conflict between "law" and "grace" more, and pointed to the fundimental tension between Quakerism and Judaism from Quakerism's earliest conception, namely that "much of the history of early Quakerism has to do with the 'non-necessity' of 'Jewish ceremonies' (as Fox often characterized outward practices)." The latest Friend's Journal (April 2010) also dealt with some of these tensions in their article Singing “Lord of the Dance”: Reflections on Anti-Semitism and Loving One Another by Steve Chase, Maxine Kaufman-Lacusta, Janet Minshall, Free Polazzo, and Joy Weaver. Facing this part of Quakerism has been a long and confusing process, especially since the most common attitude towards Jewish Quakers that I've encountered among Friends has been "oh, yeah, so-and-so is Jewish, and they've just been such a great addition to the Meeting. You know, I find Judaism so interesting. There are just so many connections between Quakers and Jews! Really, there's no reason why it should be a problem for you to be both."

But it has been a problem, a rich and rewarding problem, and I have dove deep into those troubled waters. I have known for years that I cannot be a Jaker or a Quew, because I'm Jewish, and I see no role models among Jewish Friends who keep kosher and keep Shabbos. This is not to criticize or to judge these beautiful souls who have found a way forward as Jews in a Quaker Meeting, but I've always wanted to keep kosher and keep Shabbos, to live true to the law I've been given. And as that's where I know I am led, it's been clear to me that I cannot call myself a Quaker. As George Fox said, for Quakers, those Jewish ceremonies are not necessary (I believe Fox was actually referring to Church traditions and calling them Jewish was simply a way to emphasize his point and insult those who opposed his ideas, but it's still relevant, I think).

But then there's Grace. And I do believe in the Grace of G-d. I don't think Christians have any monopoly on the concept of grace, for Jews certainly appreciate the Grace of the One who has preserved us throughout the ages. But I grew up, I suspect, with a more Christian sense of grace than is perhaps typical among Jews. I believe strongly in the power of G-d to speak through us in a gathered Meeting, and I believe in the Grace which reveals G-d's Truth in our hearts. I believe that we are all beneficiaries of that Grace, and that, yes, sometimes it does save us. From the hardness of our own prideful hearts, mostly, but also from missing the mark (or sin, as it is sometimes called) and giving in to our darkness.

My faith operates on many layers. There is the level on which it is good to follow the mitzvahs and traditions, to take joy and comfort in their structure. There is also the level on which I try to know, one day at a time, what G-d is trying to communicate to me, how He is trying to lead me. They are not mutually exclusive, by any means. They compliment each other well.

Yesterday I came out of the darkness I had been journeying through for most of this year. I came into the peace of clarity on my leading into marriage, and knew that I loved my partner with a clear and fearless heart. That was an undeniable experience of G-d's grace which I received through Quaker process, and which I do not think I could have received through the laws. And that is why, among other reasons, I sojourn with Friends, and perhaps always will. In silence, Truth can be revealed and a community can experience that divine Grace. That is a profound blessing that I hope to never take for granted. Certainly the relationship between Quakers and Jews is not perfect, and at times it can be painful. But those who search for Truth can perhaps learn from one another, at least.

Bridge Builder

I had a long conversation with Kit today, out in the vineyard, about being a bridge builder. About how that requires not that you find common ground necessarily, but that you find ground that's close enough for a connection, and then you build that connection over those things that do divide you. This means that when one is a bridge builder, one spends a lot of time in the in-between places instead of on solid ground. An essential skill of the bridge builder is the ability to live with that ambiguity, that shakiness, that lack of solid ground. And, of course, you have to be able to truly go to both lands, not just stay in the in-between common ground spaces.

It's part of my witness in this world to be true to my community, and to live my faithfulness to the fullest extent possible. Even though I am in the process of marrying a Christian, it is important to me to be the best Jew I can be, to stay true and faithful to my traditions to the fullest extent I'm able, although it can be hard and painful at times. However, it would be worse to reject my religion, to loose that rich and beautiful tradition just because my life path has taken me contrary to what is accepted and expected by my community. I might always be marginalized in Judaism, but I will still be a part of the religious community. And as Kit said, you can't really change something, or challenge someone, unless you love them. If I have a problem with Judaism, I have to deal with it as a observant and practicing Jew who truly loves Torah and my fellow Jew. Otherwise my criticism has no more weight than the words of any other outsider.

It's also part of my witness to affirm the importance of difference. My partner is a Quaker, and a Christian. There are things our traditions have in common, and things we each have in common in our relationship with G-d, but our traditions are also very, very different. Our traditions have their strengths, and they have their weaknesses, but they are not one big mushy monotheistic family. It has been a blessing in my life to learn as much as I can about Quakerism and Christianity, so that I am able to talk to my beloved in that language and to hold him accountable to his tradition. It has also been a great blessing to have him return this favor, and share Judaism with me on Judaism's terms, teaching me what he learns and holding me accountable to the integrity of my tradition. That level of respect and mutual understanding make both of us richer, but within that we are still clear that no matter how much I quote the New Testament to him, I am not a Christian and I feel no desire to be one. It's his tradition, and I love it and appreciate it but it is not my home. I have my own tradition to ground me. His Truth need not compete with or threaten my Truth, although they might contradict and I believe that both of them are True. That is the beauty of paradox, fully lived.

An introduction, briefly.

I wish to simply make a little space here.

I am Jewish, yes, and I live in a Quaker community at Guilford College. My life is marked by paradox and by not fitting in, where ever I go. Right now, I am at Koinonia Farm, outside of Americus, GA. It is a beautiful, intentional Christian community, and I marvel at the easy grace and fellowship of the members. What a blessing, to be at home among others of your faith, living in such a way that you are supported and encouraged in your faith. That is truly a gift.

Yes, I practice a form of plain dress (an expression of the testament of simplicity for Quakers and other "plain" denominations, such as Mennonites). So no, I don't fit in with other Jews.

I was born in the wilderness, which is full of Jews really, but not as full as the east coast. East coast Jews make me feel incredibly shy. They can take so much for granted! I grew up in a community that was very aware of its place in the community as religious minorities. So I grew up aware that I was different. From Christians and other folks who I grew up with, but also from other Jews.

That's a bit of background. The rest will fill in later.