When the box doesn’t fit

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JUDAISM HAS always been a complex, evolving organism with multiple perspectives that often resist one another. The priestly Sadducee literalists resisted the democratization promoted by the Pharisees. The rabbinic age was rife with conflicting opinions (Hillel and Shammai, anyone?). Maimonides and other medieval philosophers scorned the kabbalists’ mysticism.  The Talmud-focused Mitnagim opposed the rise of the spirituality-focused Hasidism. And in early modernity, those representing what would come to be known as “Orthodox” railed against the Haskalah (Jewish Enlightenment) and the Reform movement that came in its wake. And so it is with Judaism – we are a complex and multi-varied people and our tradition is likewise complex and multi-varied.

When thinking about my own experience as a member of klal Israel, I find our complicated history comforting. I am not the first, nor will  I be the last, to struggle with how I “fit” with the Jewish people, customs and practice. At various times in my life I haven’t felt judged for my Jewish practice, as much as I’ve felt misunderstood. Others seemed to have a preconceived idea of the “Jewish box” that was supposed to fit me and were surprised when it pinched in all the wrong places. The first time I encountered that poorly fitting box was in rabbinical school.

After a career in psychology, and after having recovered from a significant injury, I was excited to pursue the vocation that had been calling me since I was 12 – the rabbinate.  But the challenging question was: where to apply to rabbinical school?  This was a harder question than you might think; it proved to be my first big “pick a box” moment. I considered both the Reform (HUC) and Conservative (AJU) seminaries in Los Angeles, and both appealed for different reasons.  Like most people, I am a multifaceted mix of characteristics, including how I approach Jewish life.  In many ways I’m a traditionalist; our tradition is what binds us as klal Israel and deserves care and respect. While Jewish tradition has necessarily evolved, I believe the innovations we make for our communities should be thought out, careful and purposeful.  At the same time, I have been a voracious student of Jewish history, theology, mores and practice. The more I learned about the theology that undergirds certain elements of our tradition, the more I saw the need for thoughtful innovation. A congregant recently described my approach  as “scholarly and critical, yet clearly inspired by respect and affection.”  I think that’s accurate, but it made choosing a school challenging.

After spending time on both campuses, I chose HUC [Hebrew Union College].  The Reform movement’s focus on inclusion and social justice resonated, and I was excited to learn from some of the exemplary scholars – such as Rachel Adler, Tamara Eskenazi, and Lewis Barth – whose work I had been reading for years.

The Conservative responsum that allowed for openly-LGBTQ clergy had just come out and I didn’t want to be a part of the first class to have out rabbinical students. I had fought those battles years before in college and grad school, and I wasn’t interested in my orientation being a primary focus again. 

In many ways HUC exceeded all of my expectations.  I received a truly wonderful education from rabbis and scholars who cared deeply about their students, I developed a cohort of colleagues and friends whom I respect and love, and I came away with the beginnings of a manuscript for a book that was finally published last year.

What I didn’t expect was for my approach to Judaism to surprise (and sometimes shock) my classmates.  Some assumed that I was on the ultra-liberal end of the progressive Jewish spectrum.  They assumed I supported avoiding problematic Torah verses such as Leviticus 18:22 (I don’t).  Some were shocked to learn that I laid tefillin. Others were perplexed that I saw value in diving deeply into our liturgy.  I’m just not what some expected from a queer Reform rabbi.

And, at this point, I am very grateful that I’m not.  In my experience, many progressive Jews yearn for a deeper and more textured connection to our tradition.  Teaching aspects of our tradition that are sometimes neglected in progressive circles (Mussar, Kabbalah, Talmud, liturgy), in a way that dives deeply and is accessible and inviting to learners, is one of the most enjoyable parts of my rabbinate.  Ultimately, I made my own box.

RABBI GAVI RUIT teaches adult education courses at Temple Beth-El and regularly lectures on the implications of her book “The Story of Dinah: Rape and Rape Myth in Jewish Tradition” (New York: Lexington Books/Fortress Academic, 2019), including ways we can improve congregational culture in light of the #Metoo era.

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