Four Insights from a Jewish Renewal Rabbi

I can't say I've ever written an article prompted by someone from a non-Orthodox Jewish movement, but once I heard this podcast episode (of "Search Engine"), I had to share my thoughts.

Aug 02, 2024

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Adobe Firefly 2.0’s response to the prompt “a pie, with a thin sliver removed, with orange frosting in a pattern of concentric circles; the pie is resting on a table.” Bonus points if you can figure out the meaning of this image.

Four Insights from a Jewish Renewal Rabbi

I’m a huge fan of podcaster PJ Vogt. I’ve listened to most episodes of Reply All (2014-2022), the short-lived The Scaredy Cats Horror Show (summer 2020), the single season of Crypto Island (2022), and Search Engine (2023-present). This latest (and, in my opinion, greatest) show has been named one of the best podcasts of 2023 by Vulture, Time, The Economist, and Vogue. Its aim is to answer interesting questions. The show description reads:

No question too big, no question too small. On Search Engine, host PJ Vogt answers the kinds of questions you might ask the internet when you can't sleep. If you find the world bewildering, but also sometimes enjoy being bewildered by it, we're here for you.

On June 14^th, 2024, PJ released an episode titled, “What does it feel like to believe in God?” After detailing his own theological history—praying to God as a child, then stopping after two personal tragedies—PJ states his question:

I know I’m not allowed to do a podcast called, “Is God real?” but I did want to try to understand what faith feels like to the people who have it. That question has really been sticking with me. I think I’ll probably ask it a lot in the future to different people of different faiths. But recently I found one person who would let me pester them about it … I got the sense I could ask him a bunch of invasive questions about his faith—that I could ask him about God like I was a kid who never smoked weed who wanted to know what weed was like—and that these questions would not offend him.

This intrigued me. I liked the question. I thought about what advice I’d give PJ, namely, to get a copy of Elevator Pitches for God: 70 One-Page Essays by Thought Leaders On Why They Believe (2023). I also thought about how I would answer that question myself, as well as how I would challenge the premises and terms of the question.

But when I found out that the person he interviewed was a Jew, Zvika Krieger, I said to myself, “Oh no.” And when I found out it was a Jewish Renewal rabbi, I said, “OH NO!” And when I heard it was an ex-Orthodox Jewish Renewal rabbi who “leads a progressive Jewish spiritual community in Berkeley,” I said, “oooOOOohhhh noooOOOOooo!!!”

I am pleased to say that not only did I enjoy the interview, but I learned a few insights from Zvika! Here are four. [Note: I will refer to him as “Zvika” rather than “Rabbi Krieger” because this is how PJ referred to him.]

Insight #1: A Lesson in Judging Jews from Other Denominations

My view on Jewish denominations can be summed up in three words: “a tragic necessity.” If I had my way, I’d identify simply as “shomer Torah u’mitzvos” (a Jew who keeps Torah and the commandments) and leave it at that. Unfortunately, the history of Ashkenazi Jewry made labels a necessity, and they remain a necessity today.

That said, I 100% identify as a Modern/Centrist Orthodox Jew (who cares so little about labels that he’s not entirely sure what differentiates “Modern” from “Centrist” but likes how both terms sound). My family came to Judaism through the Reform movement, I’ve known and taught students who are Conservative, and I regularly interact with people across the Orthodox spectrum, but to my knowledge, I had never met a single “Renewal Jew” (if that’s even what they call themselves), and I had no idea what “Jewish Renewal” means.

Since I’m writing about an episode of Search Engine, a podcast about “questions you might ask the internet when you can't sleep,” it seems appropriate to cite Wikipedia, which defines Jewish Renewal as:

a Jewish religious movement originating in the 20th century that endeavors to reinvigorate modern Judaism with Kabbalistic, Hasidic, and musical practices. Specifically, it seeks to reintroduce the "ancient Judaic traditions of mysticism and meditation, gender equality and ecstatic prayer" to synagogue services [1] …
The term "Jewish Renewal" describes "a set of practices within Judaism that attempt to reinvigorate what it views as a moribund and uninspiring Judaism with mystical, Hasidic, musical and meditative practices drawn from a variety of traditional and untraditional, Jewish and other, sources. In this sense, Jewish Renewal is an approach to Judaism that can be found within segments of any of the Jewish denominations." [3]
The term also refers to an emerging Jewish movement, the Jewish Renewal movement, which describes itself as "a worldwide, transdenominational movement grounded in Judaism's prophetic and mystical traditions".[4][5][6] The Jewish Renewal movement incorporates social views such as egalitarianism, environmentalism and pacifism.

Suffice it to say, my immediate thought upon reading this—which I paused the podcast to do—was, “These are not my people!” This impression was reinforced when I checked out the website of Zvika’s organization. In other words, I was already turned off before hearing anything he had to say.

Nevertheless, I had faith in PJ Vogt as an interviewer, and I prepared myself to listen with an open mind. And guess what? I was pleasantly and embarrassingly surprised by how wrong I was in my prejudice!

My reactions to around 95% of Zvika’s statements about Judaism and God fell into three categories: (1) I completely agree, (2) I disagree but acknowledge that what he’s saying is rooted in traditional Jewish sources and is believed by many Orthodox Jews, and (3) I disagree with him, but acknowledge that this is what Orthodox Judaism has wrought. The remaining 5% fell into a fourth category: (4) this is not an accurate representation of what Orthodox Judaism teaches. All in all, I thought Zvika painted an accurate, true-to-the-sources, and true-to-the-actuality portrait of Judaism and did so in a respectful manner while maintaining his own integrity.

The best example of #2 is brought up towards the end of the podcast when Zvika explains his concept of God:

In Jewish spiritual tradition, God is – and this is going to be so hard to say things that don’t sound completely “wooo” and sort of out there – … the shortest way to sum it up is: God is Oneness. Everything that ever was, is, and will be, the sum total of all those things is God … and this concept of dveikut, of cleaving, is when you feel totally subsumed in the Oneness. That’s the sort of goal. God is an English word and a Christian word. It’s not a Jewish word. The word for God in the Jewish lineage is a four-letter word that you can’t pronounce. Some call it “the ineffable name” … There’s something cool about having a name of God that you can’t pronounce which really gets at the fact that it’s this kind of intangible mystery and not a person, a being. But the word for God, which I can’t pronounce, is actually an amalgamation of the Hebrew words for “was,” “is,” and “will be” – haya, hoveh, yihyeh – and if you mush all those words together, it’ll create the word for God. So God is essentially everything that is, was, and will be. So when you ask me, “How do I experience God?” “How do I connect with God?” to me, it’s: “How can I plug into that awareness that everything is One, that we are all connected?” Not just “we all” people, but that everything in existence is connected, and not just everything currently in existence, but everything that was in existence, everything that is, and everything that will be – all of that is connected. You can either think of that as a life force that flows through all of those things, or just all of those things mushed together are God.

Is this an accurate characterization of God? No. The belief that “everything is God” is pantheism, not monotheism. The God I worship is not a pantheistic deity. But can this notion of God be found in traditional Jewish sources? Yes: in the writings of Kabbalah, Chasidus, and other brands of Jewish mysticism. I think these teachings are wrong on this score and reflect a distorted idea of authentic Jewish theology, but I can’t deny that they have been embraced by Jews throughout the centuries and are believed by many of my Orthodox coreligionists. In fact, I recently heard a Chabad rabbi on another podcast voice the same notion of God, and I disagreed with him just as vehemently! My disagreement has nothing to do with Jewish Renewal and everything to do with the belief itself.

Here’s an example of category #3 – a statement that reflects an unfortunate outcome of Orthodox Judaism:

You know, it’s funny because people assume that if you’re Orthodox or if you grow up really religious, you have a very close relationship with God, but that was not my experience growing up. There were SO MANY RULES about what it meant to be an observant Jew in terms of everything: what you eat, literally how you get out of bed, which shoe you put on first—first it’s the right foot, and then it’s the left foot—and all these things...

Does Orthodox Judaism aim to make its adherents lose the forest for the trees? Of course not! This is a problem as old as the neviim (prophets), as Yeshayahu laments: “My Lord said, ‘Because this people has drawn near with their mouth and honored Me with their lips, but they have removed their heart from Me, and their fear of Me is a human command learned by rote” (Yeshayahu 29:13). Rambam (Moreh ha’Nevuchim 3:51) similarly writes:

All our devotional practices—reading the Torah, praying, and performing the other mitzvot—aim only to train us to focus on His precepts and free us from worldly distractions, engrossed, as it were, in Him and lost to all else. If you pray by just moving your lips, facing the wall but thinking of buying and selling; or your tongue reads the Torah but your heart is on building your house, oblivious to what you are reading; or when you perform any commandment with your limbs alone, as if digging a hole in the ground or cutting wood in the forest, disregarding the meaning of the act and its object and Author, do not think you have fulfilled a commandment. You would be more like those of whom it says, “Thou art near to their mouths but far from their reins” (Yirmiyahu 12:2).

One might ask, “Are you so surprised that a non-Orthodox rabbi being interviewed about religion gave an accurate portrayal of Orthodox Judaism?” Yes! Unfortunately, many non-Orthodox, ex-Orthodox, and anti-Orthodox Jews labor under false impressions of Orthodoxy or harbor personal baggage, antagonistic feelings towards halacha, political opposition, or other causes that might lead them to paint Orthodox Judaism in a negative light.

Sadly, there are many Orthodox Jews who would do the same if asked about non-Orthodox denominations. I’m ashamed to admit that I would not be as objective and generous in my answers about non-Orthodox movements (or even many Orthodox movements) as Zvika. I admire and appreciate how he represented Judaism to what I’m sure is a largely secular audience.

As for the 5% of his statements I thought did not accurately reflect what Judaism teaches, here’s an example:

Honestly, the place where I most encounter God is on the dance floor. I know it’s kind of cheesy, but there’s this moment when you’re dancing … and you’re just on the dance floor and you’re just feeling the music. It’s just vibrating inside of you, and you look around, and everyone else is just feeling it because you’re all dancing to the same beat. You might be dancing in different ways … but you’re all dancing to the same beat and it’s just like, “Ooh, I feel connected to everyone on this dance floor because we are all in it and we’re all feeling it.” That’s oneness. That’s the place where I feel most connected to God.”

Granted, Zvika was only talking about what makes him personally feel connected to God, not what Judaism teaches. Nevertheless, according to my understanding of Judaism and God, that very real feeling of universal connectedness he experiences on the dance floor has nothing to do with connecting to God. And I’d say the same thing to the NaNachs in the streets of Israel and the Sufi whirling dervishes in Turkey: you do you, but that doesn’t make it Jewish or true.

But I digress. The insight I gained was more of an insight into myself: a realization of how quick I am to prejudge other Jews based solely on their denomination and affiliation. I need to be more open-minded about people from the start and more willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, even if I disagree with them on the fundamentals.

Insight #2: The Role of a Rabbi

At the outset of my teaching career, I wrote a one-page educational philosophy statement. Every year or two, I revisit this statement and ask myself, “Does this still reflect my educational philosophy?” and “Am I living up to it?” Although this statement aims to capture my universal views of Jewish education, I don’t necessarily think that every rabbi or Jewish educator ought to have the same mission or serve the same role.

Zvika had an interesting answer to the question “What is the role of being a rabbi?”:

The number one answer I say is: meaning making. It is helping people make meaning. It’s helping them as they’re navigating their lives with a certain level of unconsciousness, helping them pause and be, like, “How do I make something that feels mundane feel meaningful?” And it can be through a teaching, it can be through a prayer experience, it can be through rituals—totally, meaning-making is my job.

Although I wouldn’t give the same answer, I would agree that one of the things I do as an educator is to help students make meaning in their lives. I think it’s more accurate to say that I help students discover meaning, since “discover” implies a quest for objective truth whereas “make” implies a subjective construction of personal meaning. However, there certainly are personal, subjective, creative elements involved in the pursuit of objective truth. My “What I’m Thinking About This Morning” posts on Instagram are a good example of this: most of these posts showcase how I, Matt Schneeweiss, make meaning out of the things I see and the experiences I have. Unlike my interpretation of Jewish texts, in which I endeavor to uncover the underlying insights conveyed by the authors (or Author), much of my life outside of formal learning is spent making meaning out of the contents of my life.

Zvika’s formulation of his role reminded me that this is an important part of my own role. My students inhabit a world in which meaning is becoming increasingly difficult to find. If left to their own devices, there is a risk of either drifting towards a meaninglessness or having that meaning made for them by others. As an educator and as a rabbi, I have a responsibility to equip them with the knowledge and tools they’ll need to discover and make their own meaning.

Insight #3: The God of the Bible

To my surprise, the most significant insight I gained was an idea about God:

I think the core tension of being a quote-unquote “religious person” is that the God that is portrayed in these religious texts is not a very appealing god. It’s like, you have a God who gets angry. You have a God who gets jealous. You have a God who feels kind of petty, actually, in the Torah, and you’re just like, “How is this supposed to be the bedrock of a faith – this God that’s actually such an unappealing character?” It’s like going to see a play where the main character is really unappealing …
The way that I navigate that is that the God of the Torah is not God. The God of the Torah is a character. It’s a God character … but it’s not God. And I would say that there’s an inherent contradiction … Judaism has these sort of two paradoxical sort of truths, which is that we have the God of the Torah that is very much a human-like figure that has feelings and does things, but then it’s very clear in the Jewish tradition … that you are not allowed to personify God. You are not allowed to anthropomorphize God. God is NOT a person. God is not a “being.” God is not separate from us in any way. And so it’s this paradox … This resonates for a lot of modern people, this idea that God is not a person or a sentient being in any way … It’s a God character … It’s a useful jumping-off point to have a conversation about God, but it’s not God. God doesn’t have human form, so how can you talk about God in that way?

The Torah describes God in anthropomorphic language. Traditional Judaism teaches that these descriptions were never intended to be taken literally. Building upon the Sages’ aphorism that “dibra Torah ki’lshon bnei adam” (“the Torah speaks in human language”), Rambam developed a rigorous theology of how to think about, speak about, and relate to an incomprehensible God Who has no physical qualities and no attributes whatsoever.

Zvika’s explanation of the God of the Bible is a fresh and innovative way to convey this concept of dibrah Torah ki’lshon bnei adam to a modern audience. Not only is his “God character” idea consistent with millennia of Jewish teachings on the subject, but it has been developed further in recent years with the so-called “Gush Tanakh Method,” which applies modern literary analysis techniques to Scriptural texts. I will definitely use his explanation in my own teaching – just without making the point about God being an “unappealing character,” which, in my view, is both disrespectful to God and a counterproductive educational strategy.

Insight #4: It’s Not About Atheists vs. Believers

The last insight I’d like to write about was shared by Zvika in the name of a colleague:

I was talking to my friend, Adina, this week, who is a spiritual leader here in Brooklyn and we were talking about this whole idea of believers vs. non-believers and we were saying how that doesn’t feel like the right way to divide the world – between atheists and believers, or people who believe in God and people who don’t believe in God. It’s people who think about the nature of existence and people who don’t.

Rambam begins his Laws of the Foundations of Torah (1:1) with the statement: “The foundation of foundations and the pillar of all wisdom is to know that there exists a Primary Existence.” Only later, after spelling out what he means by “Primary Existence,” does he identify this existence as “God of the universe, Lord of all the earth” (1:5). The question is: How can the Rambam maintain that knowledge of God is “the foundation of foundations and the pillar of all wisdom”? Aren’t there atheists who have wisdom but deny the existence of God?

The answer, according to my understanding, is that atheists may deny the existence of God as defined by Torah, but most (if not all) of them have some conception of “a Primary Existence.” This concept is the basis of “all wisdom” because without it, there can be no concept of objective reality, no science, and no wisdom.

In light of this idea from the Rambam, I agree with Zvika and Adina: rather than focus on the differences between atheists and believers, it may be more productive to emphasize the common ground – that, whether we realize it or not, we all operate on the premise that there is a Primary Existence, and we can all agree that thinking about the nature of that existence will bring us closer to whatever truth we are capable of grasping. This framework of discourse keeps religion out of the picture and lends itself to mutual understanding rather than the type of divisiveness that too often shows up in discussions between atheists and believers.

Concluding Thoughts

These were not the only insights I gained. I was inspired by Zvika’s personal journey and unconventional career path. I admired his efforts to avoid separating his “real self” from his “rabbinic self.” I appreciated hearing how he fielded questions from a secular interviewer for a secular audience. He is quite an impressive fellow!

I chose to write this article because I wanted to share these insights, but also because I wanted to remind myself and others that when we embrace Ben Zoma’s model of wisdom, “Who is wise? One who learns from everyone” (Avos 4:1), we will likely discover that we have far more in common with other people than we expected.

Let me know what you think of these insights - especially if you listened to the podcast episode yourself, or are familiar with Jewish Renewal!

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