Is Pluralism a Jewish Value?
Sharon Cohen Anisfeld

Pluralism is one of those words. You never know what kind of a reaction it will inspire. From some people, it evokes hostility and discomfort, from others, a yawn.

Why the hostility? Because the divisions within the Jewish world today are deep and painful. Our philosophical and religious disagreements are significant, and we do not want to gloss over them with platitudes about mutual tolerance and respect. Furthermore, the questions generated by those differences have profoundly personal implications.

Do you consider me a Jew?
Do you have any concern for the safety of my family living on the West Bank?
Are my non-Jewish spouse and I welcome in your community?
Will you respect and accommodate my need for kosher food?
Will you affirm the sanctity of my same-sex relationship?
Do you truly care about the texts and traditions that I hold dear?

Why the yawn? Because in many circles pluralism has become cliché. Feel-good pluralism is indeed a bore. "I'm okay, you're okay" is not an interesting or sufficient response to serious questions about the future of the Jewish people; nor is it a compelling response to the threat of rising fundamentalism in this country and around the world.

Those of us who are committed to pluralist Jewish education must honestly respond to these important questions and challenges. We must begin to articulate a response to the most basic question of all: Why is pluralism an important Jewish value? What is the religious and moral foundation of our pluralist vision?

Mi Yodea: Who Knows?
At the heart of my own commitment to pluralism lies the conviction that uncertainty is a fact of human existence. We do not have access to absolute knowledge of God's nature or God's will. We do not and cannot know with certainty what the past means, what the future holds, or what the present demands of us. Those who claim to know with absolute certainty what God wants of us betray our shared humanity and deny the infinite mystery of the divine. Awareness of our own uncertainty demands that we relate to other human beings with a large measure of humility.

And yet uncertainty is not an excuse for inaction. On the contrary, we are obligated to act from this place of "not knowing." In the Book of Esther, Mordechai tells his niece to go before King Ahashverosh and plead on behalf of the Jewish people. He sends her on her mission with these words: " Mi yodea im la'et kazot higa'at la'malchut?" "Who knows if it was not for just this moment that you became queen?" Esther risks her life on the strength of this "who knows?" She acts without any assurance of divine protection and without any revelation of a divine plan. She is a model of moral courage in the face of theological uncertainty.

Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh Lazeh: Jewish Peoplehood
Jewish pluralism must also be grounded in a deep sense of ahavat Yisrael , love for the Jewish people. I am a pluralist, in part, because I experience the Jewish people as my family. This means that I feel an inescapable sense of connection and mutual responsibility with all Jews.

As anyone who has read Genesis (or lived in a family!) knows, this does not mean that my relationship with the Jewish people is free from anger or disappointment. On the contrary, the link between the Hebrew words karov , close, and k'rav, battle, reminds us that our most painful battles are often with those closest to us. But it is also those relationships where reconciliation is most pressing, where a severed connection means that we are cut off from a part of ourselves.

Divine Unity and Human Diversity
Our deepest theological intuition as Jews is the affirmation that the Oneness of God is reflected in the diversity of creation.

Consider the contrast between the building of the Tower of Babel in Genesis and the building of the mishkan in Exodus. The Tower of Babel is a monument to human "unity." The builders work together to create a structure that reaches the heavens. But in the process, they ignore the dignity and uniqueness of each individual human being. They mistake oneness for sameness, and for this they are punished with a grand lesson in human diversity.

The mishkan , in contrast, is a monument to divine unity. Significantly, this building process is one that honors the unique contribution that each member of the community has to offer. "Take from among you gifts to the Lord; everyone whose heart so moves him shall bring them . . . gold, silver, and copper; blue, purple, and crimson yarns."

It is as if we are instructed to make our own rainbow, a rich tapestry of colors reflecting the Oneness of the God who created them all, who created us all. This is what is required if we are to create dwelling places for God on earth.

Rabbi Sharon Cohen Anisfeld, a member of the Sh'ma Advisory Board, is the Associate Dean for Student Life at the Hebrew College Rabbinical School. These reflections are informed by years of learning with and from friends and colleagues in Hillel and The Bronfman Youth Fellowships in Israel, in particular Rabbis Shimon Felix, James Ponet, and Dianne Cohler-Esses.