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‘Covenantal Community’ and Classical Reconstructionism

Picture of Rabbi Deborah Waxman

Rabbi Deborah Waxman

Rabbi Deborah Waxman published this essay “‘Covenantal Community’ and Classical Reconstructionism” in December 2024. What follows is this essay, with commentaries exploring Waxman’s points by four other Reconstructionist rabbis: Megan Doherty, Isabel de Koninck, Katie Mizrahi and Elyse Wechterman.

What Is ‘Covenantal Community’?

The “torah” I have been teaching intensively since the world-shattering events of Oct. 7 and its aftermath has been about building “covenantal community across difference.” In this formulation, I am drawing on deep and longstanding Reconstructionist commitments, even as how I articulate it diverges from some “traditional” Reconstructionist language.

First off, what do I mean by covenantal community across difference? In one sentence, I mean voluntarily choosing to co-create communities where we agree to a set of values and then work to articulate norms that prioritize our interdependence over our individuality, that place abiding relationships over what people look like or believe or how they act within the agreed-upon norms. To use a very Jewish image, I mean creating the kind of community where each and every person can come together in our fullness on the eve of Yom Kippur to chant Kol Nidre together and, with the support and shared experience of other people, can atone for our sins.

I’m interested in juxtaposing “voluntarily choosing” with “work.” While it is understood that engaging in the Jewish community is entirely voluntary in the postmodern age, the amount of work and necessity of work it takes to remain in and build the communities we choose to enter are less understood or accepted. In our current North American context, volunteerism is considered a luxury, something we’ll do if we have time, energy, and desire.  The concept of brit, which you use so artfully here, offers a counterpoint to the “If I feel like it” mentality of so many of us.  To be covenanted to a community means I am obligated- even if sometimes I don’t want to or feel like engaging. – Rabbi Elyse Wechterman
Here is a more extensive explication. Since the beginning of the Enlightenment, liberal Jews have lived with splintered authority, or no Jewish authority at all. Most of us do not believe that halakhah, Jewish law, was handed down from God to Moses at Mount Sinai. We are choosing to be Jewish without submitting ourselves to rabbinic authorities who set and monitor the boundaries of our lives. We are also choosing as Jews to be deeply immersed in the secular world rather than shutting ourselves away in segregated communities. This means that we are taking authority onto ourselves, either individually or collectively, which is at once liberating and full of challenge.
Rejection of rabbinic authority doesn’t always mean that we take authority onto ourselves (individually or collectively)- sometimes we give over authority to others implicitly, if not explicitly, and often without even realizing it.  One challenge of living Jewishly in the post-Enlightment world is being ever mindful of when and to whom we cede authority in our lives. – Rabbi Isabel de Koninck
We have so many choices, including the choice not to be Jewish. We are Jewish because we believe or sense or know that there is wisdom and worth in the teachings and practices of our ancestors. The centrality of community and the recognition of our interdependence is at the core of these teachings. Yet it’s hard to create community and a sense of belonging on the local level and across continents. We live in a time of radical individualism, and social media pulls us ever further apart and ever further into ourselves. This is true even without devastating conflict, and it’s even more true in the post-Oct. 7 world. Each and every day, in each and every interaction, we have opportunities to make choices that help us to enact our highest values.
Modernity has indeed given Jews more choices about their life, practice and community affiliations than was available to Jews living before the Englightenment. History has shown us, however, that individual Jewish choices about practice and affiliation matter little, if at all, to those who harbor antisemitic ideas. What is our covenantal responsibility to Jews who have chosen to not be connected to Judaism or identify as Jews, but are nonetheless vulnerable to anti-Jewish actions? – Rabbi Megan Doherty
When Cain asks in Genesis 4:9 “Am I my brother’s keeper?” the answer, though it is never stated explicitly, is Yes. Yes, Cain, you are and always were your brother’s keeper. And your sin began when you forgot it.  From this foundational text through the Rabbinic classical teaching in Pirke Avot 1:14, “if I am only for myself what am I?” Judaism has always recognized our interdependence as an essential part of the human condition. – Rabbi Katie Mizrahi

Covenant is an ancient Jewish concept that puts relationships at the center. Where the Torah and Jewish liturgy emphasize the hierarchal nature of covenant, with God as King or Judge, I, as a child of democracy, am emphasizing covenant on a horizontal axis. For many of us, it is in our relationships with family and friends that we experience the Divine, in the interactions we have with one another. After the teachings of Rabbi Harold M. Schulweis, we can know that godliness is present when we bring to life the characteristics attributed to God, when we act with mercy or lovingkindness or in healing ways — to and with each other.

Building covenantal community means that we articulate our values and our commitmentsacross generations and across differences. We talk together to articulate norms that translate them into day-to-day living. We pledge to continuously build up the skills and the structures to nurture relationships. Guided by Jewish values and the needs and aspirations of other members of our community, we consider where and when we submerge our individual aspirations on behalf of something bigger than ourselves.
The other place in Jewish life where covenant/brit is broadly present is in contemporary practices around weddings and commitment ceremonies.  Those of us who officiate often describe a ketubah as a brit or covenant and engage couples in articulating their commitments to each other and their future life together.  The model of B’rit Ahuvim (Lovers Covenant), as opposed to Kiddushin (acquiring property), as articulated by Rachel Adler, is instructive. When couples and communities take the time to spell out their obligations to one another, they also create an accountability structure.  When the inevitable breaches or misses occur, a brit provides the framework for return and repair. – Rabbi Elyse Wechterman
It is particularly challenging for Reconstructionists to create covenental community across generations because of our explicit commitment to evolving religious civilization. I might know intellectually that Judaism has never been static, and I might believe wholeheartedly that it is our responsibility to consciously engage in the process of creating the Judaism we want to see in the world but it will still be deeply uncomfortable for me when those who come after me choose to shape their Judaism in ways unfamiliar to me. This work requires a great deal of compassion and generosity of spirit from everyone who engages in it. – Rabbi Megan Doherty

A covenantal community does not run on autopilot; we need to tend to it continuously. It can be easy to do so in times of celebration. It’s really hard to do it in times of conflict. And that is the power behind the concept of covenant. It’s binding. It’s intended to last, maybe for centuries. It’s a religious metaphor that demands that we stay in stay in deep relationship even in times of struggle.

How Is Covenantal Community Grounded in Classical Reconstructionism?

I understand the concept of covenantal community to be deeply grounded in classical Reconstructionist commitments. It’s an effort on my part to bring them forward to the current moment in language that will be meaningful and hopefully inspiring. The Reconstructionist commitment to diversity as well as our attachment to complexity and nuance has too often translated into fuzzy or overly complicated explanations that can be misconstrued or appropriated. Take, for example, “peoplehood,” a term coined in the 1940s by the circle gathered around Rabbi Mordecai M. Kaplan, which has been widely embraced in ways other than its originators intended. For classical Reconstructionists, peoplehood was intended to be a means to a set of content-filled, values-driven ends rather than an end in and of itself, which is how it has most often been understood. “Covenantal community” is about communicating the heft of this concept so that means and ends cannot be separated.

‘Community Across Difference’ as a Formulation of Kaplan’s ‘Unity in Diversity’

One of the greatest challenges that the Enlightenment era presented to Jewish self-understanding and self-organization was that Jews became individual citizens of nation-states. For the first time in our long and evolving history, the Jewish community — its institutions, its norms and mores but even more the integrating concept of “community” — no longer needed to be the central principle of Jewish life. Religious authority — and the means to compel conformity — was shattered. The religion of Judaism could be separated from an individual’s experience of being Jewish. Choice became an option, including the choice not only to convert (that is, join a different group or community) but to be nothing at all. Every major movement in Judaism in the modern era, religious or political or cultural, has been an effort, at least in part, to address this incredible disruption.

Non-negotiability of community. Kaplan’s efforts to articulate the ideology of Reconstructionism was very much in this vein and, as the first section of Judaism as a Civilization demonstrates, he was reacting to other efforts that he thought were problematic or insufficient for any number of reasons. One of these was classical Reform Judaism as articulated in the Pittsburgh Platform in 1885.[1] The Reform movement emerged as a response to modernity and embraced individual autonomy as a founding principle. For Reform Jews, individuals ultimately make their own decisions about how and when and where to be Jewish. Kaplan understood that there needed to be much more space in Jewish communal life for individual desires and aspirations but insisted that they needed to be mediated through community. “A community,” he wrote in 1948, “is a form of social organization in which the welfare of each is the concern of all, and the life of the whole is the concern of each.”[i][2] Even as Kaplan sought Jewish integration into American society, he was always fiercely countercultural in his insistence on the centrality of community.
In its context, this embrace may have been a healthy counter-balance to the prevailing cultural currents of European Jewish communities.  In 21st century US Jewish communities, the surrounding culture is pathologically individualistic, fragmented and selfish.  In our time, part of the appeal of religious participation is the return to a more community-centered way of life.  Exchanging extreme autonomy (and its accompanying isolation) for the moral and practical support of longstanding community is a common theme I hear among those who join Reconstructionist congregations. – Rabbi Kate Mizrahi
This idea echoes Rabbi Israel Salanter’s 19th century teaching that” Someone else’s material needs are my spiritual responsibility.” Kaplan’s innovation was in moving the locus of responsibility from the individual to the communal. – Rabbi Megan Doherty
Alone, we cannot always arrive at the wisest and most righteous decisions and actions.  We need others to arrive at “truer truths” and to encourage us to be better versions of ourselves.  This idea is deep in Jewish tradition and expressed in many places, including the tales of Rabbi Yokhanan and Reish Lakish, study partners who argued fiercely to improve one anothers’ thinking (Bava Metzia 84a). – Rabbi Katie Mizrahi

Diversity as a reality and potential strength. In all his arguments, Kaplan made the case for vital modern Jewish communities that drew on the strength of Jewish traditions and that also took advantage of the possibilities of the modern era, including more robustly meeting the needs of individuals within community. He understood that, with communal authority so shattered by the conditions of modernity, modern Jews would be best served by embracing the inevitable diversity as a strength rather than insisting on any one standard, be it religious or political, that couldn’t be enforced. A commitment to diversity was an animating impulse in the founding of Reconstructionism. The key Reconstructionist metaphors “civilization” and “peoplehood,” while singular nouns, both contain and even celebrate multiplicity.

Kaplan was most explicit about this goal in his efforts to unite the various ideological and religious expressions of the Conservative movement, of which he was a leading if controversial and sometimes abused thinker and teacher. Trying to bridge the left, right and center wings of the movement, Kaplan frequently used the term “unity in diversity,” which he borrowed from the United States motto e pluribus unum.[3] The overlap is not coincidental: Kaplan was formulating Reconstructionism to Americanize the children of nearly 3 million Jewish immigrants who arrived from Eastern Europe between 1881 and 1924, just as American society was grappling with their arrival along with 17 million immigrants from other countries. Part of the project of American democracy has long been navigating extensive and ever-changing diversity.
Reconstructionist Judaism is the first Jewish movement to emerge in the American context. When Jewish communities in other countries have engaged with Reconstructionist ideas, their resulting practices have often looked very different from US-based Reconstructionists. In this moment when American democracy itself feels threatened, how can Reconstructionst thinking and creativity help us respond to the new challenges we face? – Rabbi Megan Doherty

Pluralism as a strategy. Pluralism emerged in the years following World War I as one of the affirmative strategies to manage the reality of diversity, in sharp contradistinction to nativist, Christian supremacist homogenization that promoted the ideology of the “melting pot.” Horace Kallen, the foremost expositor of cultural pluralism, was involved in Jewish and Zionist causes and considered Kaplan among his mentors.[4] Kaplan refers in passing to the emerging strategy in Judaism as a Civilization,[5] and much of the Reconstructionist program can be seen as an effort to demonstrate robust cultural pluralism even as the theory itself was being worked out.[6]

One important critique of pluralism as a strategy is that it often assumes a level of equality or equity among and between all of the diverse experiences and perspectives within a community (see Benay Lapee and others).  In order to practice pluralism with integrity, it is important to investigate the resource disparities and power dynamics at play between various elements of a community. It is incumbent on anyone intent on leading a covenantal community to honor and contend with the ways that those differences impact the ability of a community to build  relationships across these disparate groups. – Rabbi Isabel dr Koninck
Reconstructionism’s twin commitment to diversity and to finding unity within that diversity was an effort to inspire a new Jewish collective self-understanding within the reality of individual citizenship.[7] Kaplan and his circle were drawing on age-old Jewish understandings and revalorizing them for the modern moment with language like “civilization” and “peoplehood,” while trying to demonstrate how to bring them to life within the larger Reconstructionist program. “Community across difference” is a new locution for this same project — an effort to emphasize that which binds us together while also protecting and preserving our individual differences as well as the diverse sources from which we draw in formulating and performing our identities. Local community, as I have taught elsewhere, is the place where the academic concept of Jewish peoplehood can be brought to life in meaningful, if sometimes challenging, ways.[8] It is in community where we articulate and enact our commitments, where we voluntarily submerge our individual interests in the service of something larger, where we willingly hold ourselves accountable — as a meaningful expression of Jewish peoplehood. This is especially true in communities that are diverse, where we rub up against differences and learn from them, develop from them, gain capacity to better articulate our own beliefs and practices, open ourselves up to transformation and growth through multiple encounters with people who are not exactly like us.
We must continue to widen our gaze and work to include and be transformed by those with previously or ongoing marginalized identities. Welcoming diversity must also account for the multiplicity and pluralism each individual inherently carries into the community.  For example, yes, I am in a covenantal relationship with my Jewish community.  But I am also in covenantal relationships with my children’s school community, extended family, friends, husband, children, professional colleagues, and even country.  Others are equally covenanted to communities of identity different from their Jewish identities.  Sometimes, the demands of those covenants conflict, and painful choices must be made.  But most of the time, we carry our multiplicities of obligations and commitments within our wholly unified selves. Can this understanding of the multiplicity of our identities and commitments help us understand and potentially smoothe out some of the sharp edges our commitment to inclusion and diversity sometimes engenders? – Rabbi Elyse Wechterman
One paradox of community across difference is that the ‘not exactly like us’ people we are encountering and engaging with over time need to be enough like us that we feel comfortable continuing to show up. An important function of community leadership is creating the structures and spaces for people to find their authentic common ground. – Rabbi Megan Doherty

A Note on Different Axes of Diversity

From early on, the Reconstructionist commitment to diversity has led to awareness and embrace of individuals, classes and groups that have previously been marginalized or accorded secondary status. Kaplan was explicit in this in his 1936 argument that women should be granted religious authority on the basis of tikkun olam (“repair of the world”) both because of all they affirmatively could offer and because, with increasing opportunities for women in American society, otherwise they would exit the community.[9] This impulse led to the Reconstructionist adoption of ambilineal (one parent being Jewish) descent in 1967 out of the recognition that choosing to marry someone non-Jewish was not co-equal with a desire to exit the Jewish community.[10] It also fueled the inclusion of openly gay, lesbian and bisexual Jews as rabbis and community members in the 1980s and early 1990s (and, much later, trans Jews)[11] and is one of the (many) drivers of our current commitments to racial equity and inclusion of Jews of color.

Vitality comes not just through inclusion of previously marginalized groups but also because of the transformation that can emerge through such inclusion. The full implications behind these actions are not always immediately clear: The impulse behind Kaplan’s argument for a change in the status of women came more from egalitarian democratic commitments than from nascent feminism, and the scholar Deborah Dash Moore astutely observes that even as Kaplan was seeking to vitalize Jewish communal life through broader engagement and participation, he did not fully intend to usher in the extensive adoption of feminism that ultimately emerged in the Reconstructionism.[12] And transformation, while vitalizing, can also be profoundly discomfiting. This was abundantly clear in the moves towards greater inclusion of gay, lesbian and bisexual Jews in the 1980s. Where many of its proponents saw the effort as an obvious outgrowth of the intentional democratic commitments leading to women’s equality as well as its liberatory feminist implications, at least some older, “classical” Reconstructionists found the effort unsettling and without precedent. This is an important reminder of the core Reconstructionist principle that context shapes beliefs and understandings, including generationally, and that even acceptance of the Reconstructionist definition of Judaism as the “evolving religious civilization of the Jewish people” doesn’t ensure comfort or confidence around evolution within our own lifetimes. And yet evolution continues: Thirty years later, there was unanimous embrace of the Reconstructionist commitment to validate trans Jews.
Change is hard, even for those within a movement that embraces change.  None of us are immune from attachment to our habitual ideas and practices.  Even “classical Reconstructionists” have been at times “Orthodox” in their attachment to Kaplanian theology.  Yet as Kaplan himself commented in The Meaning of God in Modern Jewish Religion, “In the history of religion, the truths of one age commonly become the idolatries of the next.” The ability to question, and at times transform, our ideas and practices is essential to the vitality and relevance of our tradition. – Rabbi Katie Mizrahi
In our day, the most contentious issue roiling the Reconstructionist community and the American Jewish community writ large is around political stances, especially in regard to Zionism and anti-Zionism. Let me first assert my strong belief that the binary of Zionism and anti-Zionism is unhelpful in how much it flattens nuance. Kaplan himself was vociferous in his efforts to invest Zionism with new meanings after the political goal of independent statehood was achieved in 1948, arguing forcefully in A New Zionism and other places that the raison d’être of “Greater Zionism” should be to cultivate the well-being of “worldwide Jewish peoplehood” rather than, as David Ben-Gurion insisted, a prioritized orientation towards and building up of the Jewish state, including an unyielding focus on aliyah. It is profoundly unclear to me whether political stances, about which there is extensive evidence of shifts and transformations (sometimes quite significant) over a person’s lifetime, is coequal with other identities described above — gender, race, sexuality. While I am not certain of the answer, I am sufficiently aware of Reconstructionism’s longstanding commitments to paying attention to Jews and Jewish communities on the margins to continuously query this category and to be humble enough not to make declarative statements. As I argued at the beginning of this essay, since the onset of modernity, formal Jewish authority has been shattered, even as Jewish communal leaders and foundation professionals and lay people demand hard and fast boundaries.
I don’t believe that political stances and affiliations, even ones that emerge from a person’s most closely held values, are coequal with the other identities listed here. I think it is legitimate for a covenantal community to use a values-based process to discern the boundaries of what statements can be made or actions taken on behalf of the community and, in some cases, to determine what political actions might put an individual’s membership into question. And, there is no one political position that serves as an accurate litmus test for someone’s commitment to the Jewish people. – Rabbi Megan Doherty

Covenant

Beyond the millennia-old Jewish relationship with the concept of covenant that I described at the start of this essay, covenant too has deep roots in classical Reconstructionism. In the mid-1950s, following the establishment of the State of Israel, Kaplan urged world Jewry to voluntarily adopt a covenant that would bind them together as “one united People.”[13] He sought for Jews in all our diversity to voluntarily affirm Jewish peoplehood as the mandate that binds us together — rather than halakhah, a political vision or some other single standard. This effort was closely related to the longstanding Reconstructionist preoccupation with generating standards, ethics and norms for Jewish behavior, beginning with an early project of the Jewish Reconstructionist Foundation, 1942’s “Toward a Guide to Jewish Ritual Usage,” which was updated in 1961 at the request of members of the earliest Reconstructionist congregations, and extends through David Teutsch’s masterful three-volume A Guide to Jewish Practice and the ongoing work of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College’s Center for Jewish Ethics. Indeed, the “seal” of the Reconstructionist movement, introduced originally in 1944 and appearing in various forms for the next 25 years, included ethics/musar as one of the “spokes” connecting Eretz Yisrael to Jews in America and around the world. In the absence of supernaturally revealed religion and the promise or threat of eternal reward or punishment, a robust ethical system becomes an essential means to articulate what it means to be a “good” Jew (or person) — to other Jews and to the rest of the world — whether or not there are meaningful consequences for violations.

Avraham Infeld uses the metaphor of the “five-legged table” to  describe Jewish identity construction in the contemporary world. His metaphor is also instructive for what it might mean for world Jewry to feel bound as “one united People.”

In Infeld’s approach there are five components or “legs” that combine to make up a person’s Jewish identity: Memory, Family, Covenant, Israel and Hebrew.

Choosing at least three of the components or legs of Jewish identity, or legs provides a stable platform for living a Jewish life and contributing to the world. Less than three, and your “table” or platform of Jewish identity will topple over; more than three makes it more sturdy.

Choosing three also means that every Jew shares at least something with every other Jew, even though they may look different and have very different lifestyles, cultures and customs.

While various Jewish thinkers might define the specifics of the five legs differently from Infeld, the metaphor can be extended from one about individual identity to one that is instructive for building covenant community:   Being in covenantal community doesn’t mean being fully aligned, it means that we share critical aspects of what holds us up and makes us who we are in a web of interconnection.
https://5leggedtable.wixsite.com/5leggedtableRabbi Isabel de Koninck

Kaplan’s “covenant idea” was an effort to give substance to the concept of “peoplehood,” which was very quickly adopted by the Jewish community and, within a generation, by broader society.[14] “Peoplehood” could encompass Zionism, even Ben-Gurion’s narrow, statist vision and go beyond it, legitimating deeply secular identities and non-Orthodox Judaism and giving substance to the emerging concept of ethnic (extra-religious) Jewishness. “Covenant” would spell out the substance and prevent “peoplehood” from becoming an end in and of itself.
I am not sure here how this is supposed to work or why it would necessarily follow.  It seems to me that if we understand peoplehood to be our primary Jewish identification, then our obligation to the well being of our people would inevitably become an end in and of itself.   I like the idea that covenant consists of ethical standards of behavior that could help us to rise above mere ethno-nationalism.  However, if this covenant has any teeth and depth, then I don’t see how it differs much from what might be considered a neo-halakhic system.   Even if a “covenantal community” model would be looser, less hierarchical, and no longer supernaturally derived, in order to be authentically Jewish it would still need to be rooted in traditional texts and values.  As such, it could be considered a “reconstruction” of halakhah.  What else would we call behavioral expectations rooted in Jewish textual sources and mediated by local contemporary communities?  Is that not what halakhah has always been? – Rabbi Katie Mizrahi

Kaplan’s covenant idea was closely tied to his concept of “organic Jewish community,” which he proposed as a solution to the “chaos” that dominated Jewish communal life since the beginning of modernity. Drawing on the thinking of philosopher John Dewey, Kaplan and his disciples argued for an organic community organized on democratic principles and open to reform and evolution. It should make space for all the constituent parts of the Jewish civilization, which prioritizes religion but includes diverse elements and expressions, including, in Kaplan’s words, “that nexus of a history, literature, language, social organization, folk sanction, standards of conduct, social and spiritual ideals, esthetic values”[15] and would include all Jews, of whatever orientation, who affirmatively identified with the Jewish people. In this way, a form of authority would be democratically generated by the Jews governed by it, willingly accepted and applied in a values-driven and planful manner rather than by inequitable distribution of financial resources or the power of one agency or communal sector over another. (Both covenant and organic community were ultimately deemed by Jewish communal leaders as too utopian to be implemented.)

The importance of norms. Kaplan envisaged concentric circles of organic Jewish community, beginning with local, then national, then international. (On the national and international level, Kaplan was inspired by the World Zionist Congress and the World Jewish Congress; on the local level, his thinking inspired what emerged as Jewish community relations councils.) When I speak or write about covenantal community, I am arguing primarily for supremely local efforts, with communities bound together through networks like the Reconstructionist movement. Central to this vision is the invitation for each community to generate norms expressive of their values and personalities and articulating what accountability looks like for themselves. I show examples (including those generated for Evolve) but do not prescribe them since for them to be maximally effective, they are best co-created by the community of people who agree to be bound by them. However, the influence of American individualism seems overpoweringly present in discussions about covenantal community, since the generation and acceptance of collective behaviors and boundaries are the elements of “covenantal community” that my interlocutors most often misunderstand.
The work of consciously creating norms genuinely “expressive of [our] values” takes sustained time and effort. Some of the places most in need of the structures and support provided by covenantal communities are places where 25% annual turnover is built in to the system. Creating and sustaining micro-cultural norms on a college campus, particularly if those norms run counter to the norms of the larger institution, is an incredibly difficult task. I wonder what models or processes can be developed to streamline the creation of norms and allow those norms to be passed on from one generation of students to the next. – Rabbi Megan Doherty

Conclusion

I regularly argue with a colleague about the importance of believing in a “big myth” and how such a belief can at once undergird and illuminate the life of an individual and a community. He is an observant Jew and makes his personal home in an Orthodox community, even as professionally he has been immersed in pluralistic Jewish settings. He advocates for the “myth” of halakhic Judaism lived out in a halakhically observant community. For myriad reasons, I cannot find a comfortable place for myself within his mythic Judaism. But I am deeply at home, in ways both comfortable and growthfully challenging, inside the myth of covenantal community, which is defined by a binding sense of Jewish peoplehood brought to life in locations where individuals willingly adopt a covenant of abiding relationship and community across difference.

[1] Kaplan’s critique deeply influenced the formulation of the Reform movement’s 1937 Columbus Platform that began a slow process of the Reform movement moving ever closer to many Reconstructionist positions. The need to rethink this part of his magnum opus was one of many reasons why Kaplan declined to update it in subsequent decades.

[2] The Future of the American Jew, p. 325.

[3] For further discussion of this, see Chapter Two of my dissertation, “Animating Metaphors: Reconstructionist Efforts toward Jewish Unity,” in Ethnicity and Faith in American Judaism: Reconstructionism as Ideology and Institution, 1935-1959.

[4] William Toll, “Horace M. Kallen: Pluralism and American Jewish Identity,” American Jewish History, Vol. 85.

[5] Chapter 26, note 9, p. 528

[6] I discuss this extensively throughout my dissertation.

[7] This goal, so ambitious that it may be inherently paradoxical, is an example of why it can be difficult to communicate Reconstructionism succinctly. It also directly led to the shape and history of the Reconstructionist movement, since in its contradiction it led to Kaplan promoting Reconstructionism as a methodology rather than a denomination and choosing to stay within the confines of the Conservative movement, no matter how uncomfortable its leaders frequently made it for him and his followers.

[8] See this recording for Limmud’s 2021 Global Day of Learning: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25JkDEZ6i2s

[9] “Kaplan made his argument in “The Status of the Jewish Woman,” first published in The Reconstructionist in 1936 and reprinted in his 1948 book The Future of the American Jew. For further discussion, see my article “‘A Lady Sometimes Blows the Shofar: Women’s Religious Equality in the Postwar Reconstructionist Movement” in A Jewish Feminine Mystique?: Jewish Women in Postwar America.

[10] Jacob Staub, “A Reconstructionist View of Patrilineal Descent” in Judaism 34/1 (Winter 1985): 97-106. http://archive.jewishrecon.org/resource-files/files/Reconstructionist%20view%20on%20patrlineal%20descent.pdf

[11] Rebecca T. Alpert and Jacob J. Staub, “The Making of Gay and Lesbian Rabbis in Reconstructionist Judaism, 1979-1992,” in Devotions and Desires: Histories of Religion and Sexuality in the Twentieth Century United States, chapter 11, edited by Gillian Frank, Bethany Moreton, and Heather White. University of North Carolina Press, 2017, pp. 214-233.

[12] “Judaism as a Gendered Civilization: The Legacy of Mordecai Kaplan’s Magnum Opus” in Jewish Social Studies, Vol. 12, No. 2, Winter 2006, pp. 172-186.

[13] Mordecai M. Kaplan, “The Principles of Reconstructionism,” The Reconstructionist, March 18, 1955/Adar 24, 5715, 22.

[14] See my dissertation, p. 106.

[15] Judaism As a Civilization, p. 178.

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