Two Religions are One Too Many
Sermon, February 1, 2008
Rabbi Bruce Kadden
Last Shabbat we read Parashat Yitro, which begins with the story of
Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law. Jethro, whom we met earlier in the book of
Exodus, is a priest of Midian. According to Genesis, the Midianites are kinfolk
of the Israelites; Midian was one of the children of Abraham and his wife,
Keturah.
When Jethro hears of all the wonderful things that God did for the Israelites
he said, “Blessed is the Eternal who delivered you from the Egyptians and from
Pharaoh, and who delivered the people from under the hand of the Egyptians. Now
I know that the Eternal is greater than all gods, yes, by the result of their
very schemes against them.” Jethro then brings a burnt offering and sacrifices
and shares a meal with Moses, Aaron and the elders of Israel.
Some traditional commentators are surprised by these actions; how could a
priest of Midian praise the God of the Israelites and offer sacrifices to that
God? They conclude that Jethro must have converted to Judaism and thus becomes
the role model for anyone in the future who embraces Judaism. Other
commentators are not so sure that Jethro converted to Judaism and regard him as
a righteous gentile, a non-Jew who loves and supports the Jewish people.
I thought about this story again this week when I was interviewed by a
reporter from The News Tribune for the story about the new state policy
allowing prison inmates to practice two religious traditions. This policy
presented a moral dilemma for Father Tom Suss, the Catholic chaplain at McNeil
Island, who took a leave of absence at the beginning of the year, because of his
disagreement with it.
“Common sense says you cannot be a pagan Christian…my own convictions being a
Catholic priest don’t allow for a Catholic to be a pagan at the same time,” he
was quoted as saying. Indeed, Catholics normally do not allow non-Catholics,
even other Christians, to share in communion at their worship services.
I am sympathetic to Father Suss’ point of view, as I noted in the article.
For a number of years in Salinas, I served as the part-time Jewish chaplain at
the euphemistically named Correctional Training Facility in Soledad,
California.
I would hold bi-weekly worship services and study sessions for the handful of
Jewish inmates who identified themselves as Jews; some Jews hid their identities
fearful of the white supremacist prisoners. But we also had a number of
non-Jews who participated in our services and classes from time to time; some
claimed to have had a Jewish ancestor; as long as they were respectful, they
were allowed to participate. They did not claim to be Jewish and did not have
to.
As a prison chaplain, I learned a lot about the challenges of prison life,
both from the perspective of inmates and from the perspective of the state. The
state is required –rightly so—to provide chaplains and accommodate religious
observance. This includes holiday celebrations; there is something strange
about holding a Passover Seder, celebrating the freedom of the Israelites
from Egyptian bondage, in prison. It also can include kosher and hallal
food for Jewish and Moslem inmates respectively, sweat lodges for Native
Americans and providing prayer books, scriptures and appropriate ritual objects.
For the most part, prisons are able to meet these requirements. But from
time to time issues arise concerning these rights. For example, a lockdown due
to a prison disturbance might cancel or at least postpone religious services.
Inmates claimed that the prison staff sometimes unnecessarily extended such
lockdowns, as a type of collective punishment that not only deprived inmates of
their ability to attend worship services, but also work assignments and visits
by family members and friends.
Inmates who had never kept kosher would demand kosher food, which they knew
would be better than regular prison food. They enjoyed coming to services and
classes because it was a break in the otherwise monotonous routine and were
upset when they were prevented from doing so, as sometimes happens when the
paperwork was not handled properly and they could not provide a pass to attend
the service or class.
The state faces a significant challenge in this area. It cannot decide an
inmate’s religion and must accommodate religious preference. I don’t see a
problem with the state allowing an inmate to participate in more than one
religious community, as long as it is understood that the inmate is a visitor
and that the religious leader has the right to determine whether one is to be
considered part of the community.
A Catholic priest should not be required to offer communion to everyone who
attends Catholic services. Similarly, while we welcome non-Jews to participate
in our worship services, we reserve certain honors, such as aliyot to the
Torah, for those who are Jewish. So the question then becomes, “Who is a Jew?”
This question has been long debated in the Jewish community. The traditional
answer is that to be a Jew one must be born of a Jewish mother or convert to
Judaism. Reform Judaism has broadened the definition to include those who have
one Jewish parent –either mother or father—provided that he or she is raised as
a Jew.
Israel has faced this issue because the law of return says that anyone who is
Jewish is entitled to immediate citizenship. In the early days of the state, a
Catholic monk known as Brother Daniel applied for citizenship. He was born in
Poland in 1920 and grew up in a traditional Jewish home, joining the largest
Zionist youth group in Poland; during the Holocaust he helped the Jewish
underground save thousands of Jews from the Gestapo.
To avoid being captured, he took refuge in a Catholic convent and, at age 22,
converted to Catholicism. After the war, he became a Carmelite monk and
attempted to make aliyah to Israel, claiming that although he was now a
Catholic by religion, he was still a Jew by nationality as a result of his birth
and therefore should be allowed to become a citizen based on the law of return.
Israel denied his claim; he appealed to the courts but the Supreme Court also
denied his claim, stating that his conversion to Catholicism meant he was no
longer a Jew.
Similar arguments are made today by those who call themselves Jews for Jesus
or Messianic Jews. They claim to be Jewish, even incorporating various Jewish
prayers and rituals into their worship and daily lives, but believe that Jesus
is the messiah, practicing a form of evangelical Christianity. Indeed, some are
Jewish by birth, but I would argue that accepting Jesus as the messiah makes
them Christian.
Indeed, the historical difference between Judaism and Christianity is that
Christians believe that Jesus is the messiah and Jews do not.
We cannot go back almost 2000 years and change what happened in 1st
and 2nd century Judea. Some Jews believed that Jesus was the
messiah; most did not. Those who believed he was the messiah –and were not
deterred when he was crucified by the Romans—formed the kernel of what would
become Christianity. But for many years, these people continued to worship in
the Jewish community and were accepted as Jews.
But over time, and for a variety of complex reasons, the communities
separated and went their own ways. Judaism and Christianity still share a
number of things in common: certain religious values and certain scriptures,
for example. But we also have significant differences and to ignore those
differences is to misrepresent each religious tradition.
The bottom line is that each religious community has a foundational lens
which provides the basis of its religious teachings and through which it views
the world. For Judaism that lens is the Torah, the first five books of
Scripture. All later Jewish teachings must be firmly grounded in the Torah;
whether one is Reform, Conservative or Orthodox, we all agree on this principle.
Christians, of course, also consider these books to be scripture, but they do
not serve as the foundational lens for Christianity. Rather, for Christians the
foundational lens is the life and death of Jesus as portrayed in the gospels.
Christians look at the Torah, and the rest of the Hebrew Scriptures, through
that lens.
Indeed, throughout the past 2000 years Judaism and Christianity have
influenced each other in a variety of ways, at times borrowing and adapting
rituals and teachings. At the same time each community has remained true to its
core principles and beliefs which have served as guidelines in determining which
rituals and teachings may be assimilated and which may not.
Don’t get me wrong. I think it is wonderful that people have the opportunity
to experience and explore other religious traditions and communities. We have a
lot to teach to each other and to learn from one another. I am grateful when
Christian churches bring their confirmation classes and other students to our
services and am pleased that our confirmation students are studying comparative
religion and visiting other congregations.
I also respect and support interfaith couples when each partner chooses to
practice his or her own religious traditions. At the same time I encourage such
couples to choose a religion for their children because I do not think it is
right to raise children in two religions, or in none.
I think that it is crucial to understand and respect our differences and not
try to create a synchronistic religious observance such as Christmukah, a hybrid
of Christmas and Chanukah, which ignores these differences.
Two religions are one too many. I know that the state is in a difficult
position as it tries to meet the religious needs of the inmate population, but
do not believe that allowing them to affirm two religions is the good solution
to this challenge.
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