My religious training began in Istanbul, in an Orthodox
Jewish synagogue to which my parents belonged. I excelled in my studies and
became not only a shohet (ritual slaughter for chickens only) but also
the hazzan kavua (the main liturgical leader) of my temple. My teacher,
I know realize, was a well-intentioned but narrow-minded individual. In law school, when I discovered Reform
Judaism, he quickly dismissed me from the pulpit. I was no longer kosher for
him.
For me, however, finding a liberal expression of Judaism was
liberating. I could now, in good conscience, become a religious and observant
Jew. During my military service in Turkey, I applied and was accepted by the
Reform rabbinic seminary (the Hebrew Union College) in Cincinnati. After six
months in Paris, where I studied at the Institut International d’Etudes
Hebraiques, the now defunct French-Jewish rabbinic school associated with the World
Union for Progressive Judaism, I came to the States in late August of
1961. I was in heaven!
In the 60’s, Reform Judaism had a distinct style and
philosophy. Even though there were differences of opinions among us--we are Jews
after all—we all had a general idea of what Reform Judaism stood for: We
supported progressive revelation; we believed in the immortality of the soul;
we had a common liturgical style and prayerbook etc. Now things are different.
At times, I don’t know where Reform Judaism stands.
I realize that it is in the nature of Reform to be
progressive and diverse. After all, the Centenary Perspective of the Reform
Rabbinate (CCAR, 1976) clearly states that, “Reform Judaism does more than tolerate
diversity; it engenders it.” Today, however, we have more theological discord
among ourselves. For example, we cannot even agree whether we support tehiyyat
hametim (resurrection) or immortality of the soul, and our new prayerbook, Mishkan
Tefillah, has to include both options. We espouse different perceptions of
the divinity; and we are all over the map with regard to ritual practices.
The only continuity we have is the particular rabbi’s style
of worship and philosophy in his/her congregation. When I was a congregational rabbi,
I, too, influenced my synagogue with my style of worship and thinking pattern.
Being a religious naturalist, my services certainly reflected my philosophy,
even though I tried not to impose it on others. Every rabbi does this in
his/her temple. I understand that, and congregants do too. As a rabbi who has
been on the pulpit close to 50 years and a shaliah tzibbur (prayer
leader) for almost 60 years, I would suggest that once in a while, rabbis
and cantors review their prayer practices, and vary them as necessary. Not all
services have to start with, “Let us take a big breath.” After a while, it is boring.
Rabbi Rifat Sonsino, Ph.D.
April, 2014
