Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin, a member of the Jewish Action Editorial Committee, is the founder of 18Forty, a media site discussing big Jewish ideas. He is also director of education for NCSY, and an instructor at Yeshiva University, where he teaches courses on public policy, religious crisis and rabbinic thought.
Jewish Action:
One of the fastest-growing sectors in the Jewish world today is the “Jews of no religion,” sometimes called “nones.” In his book Will We Have Jewish Grandchildren? the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes:
There is one widely held view, which I call Jewish Darwinism. It says that throughout the generations, only the fittest Jews survive. At all times, and especially in an open society, Jews leave the fold. They opt out, marry out and disappear. . . . Only the most dedicated remain. On this view, it is futile to speak of continuity as a program for all Jews. Instead, one should concentrate on the committed. They are Jewry’s survivalists. Only they will have Jewish grandchildren. Their schools, yeshivot, and houses of study will compensate for Jewish ignorance elsewhere. Their large families will make up for Jews lost elsewhere. In an age in which 80 percent of young Jews see nothing wrong in intermarriage, there is no point in even talking to 80 percent of young Jews, let alone wasting resources on them. Instead, we should focus exclusively on the 20 percent who will survive.
Rabbi Sacks obviously did not subscribe to this view. What do you think of the “Jewish Darwinism?” Where is this view coming from? Is it coming from a sense of despair?
Rabbi Dovid Bashevkin:
When G-d first promises the Land of Israel to Avraham and his descendants, He introduces Himself by saying, “I am the G-d Who took you out of Ur Kasdim to assign this Land to you as a possession.” And Avraham responds by asking, “How do I know that I will possess it?”
Avraham is criticized for questioning G-d. But G-d’s response is even more perplexing: He introduces the idea of the exile and ensuing redemption from Egypt.
What is going on in this enigmatic conversation?
This dialogue is, in fact, at the very heart of the structure of Judaism and should be the starting point for any conversation about Jewish identity. G-d references Ur Kasdim because that’s where Avraham was willing to give up his life to serve G-d. Look at the dialogue. G-d says, “I took you out of Ur Kasdim and will give you the Land [of Israel].” And Avraham responds by asking, “How do I know this promise is real?” In other words, what Avraham is saying is this: What about my great-great-grandchildren? What if they won’t be as committed? What if I have children who are not as on fire with Yiddishkeit as I am, who are not as connected to Judaism?”
G-d’s response to that question is a reformulation of Jewish identity, an identity that was created through Yetziat Mitzrayim. We possess an immutable Jewish identity. The founders of our religion are not referred to as “rabbis and rebbetzins,” but as Avot and Imahot. That’s intentional. The Jewish people were a family before we were a religion.
JA: True. But what about once the Jewish people received the Torah?
RDB: Even after Har Sinai, which introduced the religious obligations into the mix, our immutable Jewish identity was not uprooted. There are these two parts of Jewish identity: a part that is grounded in our religious obligations—the observance of Torah and mitzvot—and a part that is not contingent on our observance and commitment.
I understand those who believe in Jewish Darwinism. It’s a point of fact in any community that only the strong and committed will survive. That is a descriptive reality, but it doesn’t explain why G-d structured Judaism in this way: why did G-d create our identity in such a way that I am bound to people who have no connection to Torah and mitzvot? This question should bother every Orthodox Jew.
JA: But this question was less applicable throughout much of Jewish history. Why do questions surrounding Jewish identity seem so much more relevant in contemporary times?
RDB: Throughout much of Jewish history, our Jewish identity was an organizing principle in how we operated in society. Being a Jew affected your taxation, where you could live, what professions you could have. It shaped your entire worldview. So our connection to “Jews in name only,” which always existed in one way or another, was much more obvious.
The challenge of modernity and Enlightenment was that Jewish identity ceased to be externally imposed upon us by society, and we were kind of left with a fundamental question: what could we do to bind us as a people?
Following the Holocaust, the rabbis who came to America made a deliberate choice—in order to preserve the religious element of our identity, we needed two things: a school system that would provide religious education, and a way to organize communally in a different manner than we’d been organized for most of Jewish history.
They weren’t necessarily yeshivah graduates, and their halachic knowledge might have been much less developed, but they had tremendous mesirut nefesh for living a Jewish life. That is a Yiddishkeit that is simply unknown today.
Firstly, they understood that day schools were needed to imbue future generations with an enduring sense of Jewish identity. Secondly, they realized that now that the non-Jewish government would no longer define for us what our Jewish identity meant, we would have to define it for ourselves.
These changes began in America in the 1950s, when Orthodoxy stepped up to preserve the religious character of Jewish identity: we believe in G-d, we believe in Torah, we believe in mitzvot, and we won’t be able to preserve it unless we recruit people to this way of life.
It’s remarkable what the post-Holocaust generations built in America, and the extraordinary creation and growth of the State of Israel is certainly a modern-day miracle. But I want to focus on American Jewry for now. We don’t spend enough time reflecting on the past, on the history of the American Orthodox Jewish community. We need to take a step back and learn about and appreciate the miracles of our survival and our flourishing in America.
JA: What are some of the concerns you have about Orthodox life today as it relates to the non-Orthodox world?
RDB: My number one concern is that the Orthodox world we currently inhabit cannot really reach beyond itself. Because of the very structure of the community, the level of Jewish education we take for granted, and the cost of living in an Orthodox community, thriving Orthodox communities exist only in a few select areas. We have essentially abandoned small-town Judaism as a relic.
When I visit small Jewish towns, I often sense that they are preserving an authenticity of the mesorah. As a general statement, the Jews in small towns tend to be more deeply engaged with their own Yiddishkeit and Jewish identity than those who grow up in well-established Jewish communities.
A famous story is told by novelist and English professor David Foster Wallace. Two young fish are swimming along in the water. They meet an older fish, who asks them, “How’s the water?” One young fish looks at the other and says, “What’s water?”
That is an analogy for the Orthodox community of 2024. We don’t even recognize the communal framework that surrounds us and guides us. We take for granted the intricate structure that carries us from elementary school through high school and a year in Israel. Our Judaism has become very institutionalized. I believe the original, authentic Yiddishkeit is the Judaism that emanates from the home. That was the hallmark of small-town Judaism. They weren’t necessarily yeshivah graduates, and their halachic knowledge might have been much less developed, but they had tremendous mesirut nefesh for living a Jewish life. That is a Yiddishkeit that is simply unknown today.
My Bubby wasn’t frum enough to have a biography written about her—but she had to sacrifice for her Jewish identity, driving an hour and a half to buy kosher meat, when many of those around her stopped eating kosher. While being religious has become so convenient, that convenience comes at a cost. Oftentimes, it comes at the cost of passion and sacrifice.
JA: Is the Orthodox community doing enough to reach the masses of alienated Jews and bring them closer to their Jewish roots in one way or another?
RDB: We cannot expect to stem the tide of assimilation. That’s the work of Hakadosh Baruch Hu. It’s the promise of Hakadosh Baruch Hu in Parashat Nitzavim, where He says that at the end of history, all of the Jewish people will find their way back. We also cannot expect to get all Jews to shift to fully Orthodox communities. Not everyone has that capacity or ability.
But my goal as a Jewish educator is to at least consider these questions: Are there any aspects of Judaism that can be made accessible to the entirety of the Jewish people? And how can we reach each individual where he or she is?
Will that stem the tide of assimilation? I don’t know.
JA: How do you suggest we reach non-Orthodox Jews?
RDB: We have to realize: These Jews are not going to an Orthodox shul. They’re not coming through the shul doors. We need to be building better doorways for engagement.
Firstly, we need to articulate Torah to a wider audience. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks opened up the study of parashah to a non-Orthodox audience while also enriching the Orthodox world. We should be spreading Torah for beginners. What Rabbi Sacks did for Chumash, we should be doing for every facet of Torah.
We have to realize: These Jews are not going to an Orthodox shul. They’re not coming through the shul doors. We need to be building better doorways for engagement.
Most of the writing, the online shiurim and even the apps emanating from the Orthodox world are totally unintelligible to those who did not attend a yeshivah or day school—which is a huge problem. We don’t even have the language to talk about Yiddishkeit outside of our community. We’re not challenging ourselves to communicate Torah ideas to new audiences outside of our community. But that is the lifeblood. That is what energizes Yiddishkeit. Yiddishkeit weds the values of Torah to new demographics and new generations of Jews.
Secondly, for those who can’t or don’t want to learn Torah, we should be creating “Torah-adjacent” content as well. The 18Forty Podcast, which I host, is one such gateway. It is a forum for exploring Jewish thoughts and ideas in a style the non-Orthodox world can listen in on.
Sefaria is an incredible gateway for Jewish learning. Tablet Magazine is yet another fantastic gateway for drawing Jews into Jewish life. And, of course, social media is a tremendous platform for strengthening Jewish identity.
JA: Do you have any more suggestions for what the Orthodox community should be doing at this time?
RDB: Number one, we need to reacquaint ourselves with the depth, beauty and mystery of Jewish history. The way to connect to the entirety of the Jewish people is to understand our story, the miraculous story of the rise and growth of Orthodoxy in America. We should begin telling that story more fully and powerfully so people can understand the communities to which they belong. The younger generation doesn’t seem to know Jewish history at all. They’re ignorant of where they are. They look around and ask, “What are you talking about? What’s water?”
Learn the history of Yiddishkeit so you can appreciate your own Yiddishkeit.
Number two, we need to be more future-oriented. Instead of trying to reproduce the experience our grandparents had and focus on recreating the past, we need to focus on visualizing the future. We need to be more thoughtful, more deliberate and more intentional about what the future of the Jewish community is going to look like in the next hundred years.
We should be leading the way. We have the knowledge. We have the experience. We should be assuming responsibility, meeting the moment, and thinking and planning for the future of all Jews.