Many of you know that my next pulpit will be at Congregation Bet Haverim in Atlanta. You may not know that it’s affiliated with the Reconstructionist movement. Reconstructionism is hard to describe in a few words (which may be why it’s the smallest of the Jewish movements!), but it combines creative liturgy and traditional practice, adding a progressive approach to theology and social justice. It’s a good fit for me.
One thing that makes me a little sad, however, is the change that Reconstructionist Judaism made to the aleinu prayer. Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, the founder of Reconstructionism, rejected the idea of Jewish chosen-ness. “The idea of the Chosen People was justifiable religious doctrine in ancient Judaism,” Kaplan declared at a 1945 conference of the Jewish Reconstructionist Foundation at the Hotel McAlpin in midtown Manhattan. But the idea that “the Jewish people has been chosen to occupy forever the central place in the divine scheme of salvation,” Kaplan concluded, “can be [no] longer accepted by modern-minded Jews.”
Thus, the 1945 Reconstructionist siddur changed the aleinu, removing the entire set of clauses declaring that God lo asanu k’goyei ha’aratzot / “did not make [Jews] like the other nations of the earth.” In its place are texts commonly found in the blessing following a Torah reading, thanking the God shenatan lanu torat emet, v’chayei olam nata b’tocheinu / “Who gave [Jews] a Torah of truth, and implanted within us eternal life.”
(Kaplan’s innovation was not exactly met with universal appreciation. In June of that same year, at the same hotel, at a meeting of the Union of Orthodox rabbis, Rabbi Joseph Ralbag, of Congregation Ohab Shalom, produced a copy of the new Reconstructionist siddur only to place it on the speaker’s podium, and set it on fire.)
In the history of human civilization, religious and otherwise, respect for other peoples and nations has been hard to come by. For this reason, Kaplan’s revision is a powerful statement. Yet the prayer already was incredibly powerful.
The aleinu possesses a profundity as a lofty statement of Jewish ideals. It was the aleinu, not the Shema, that Jewish martyrs in the Middle Ages said with their final breaths. In the French city of Blois, Jews sang the aleinu louder and louder as their community was burned by Crusaders, profoundly affecting the non-Jews who heard it.
It is, in part, a sensitivity to non-Jews that informs the Reconstructionist variation of the aleinu. Which, to me, is entirely appropriate. While the prayer says that it’s aleinu — literally “upon us” as Jews — to praise the Creator of all, the prayer ultimately seeks the unity of humanity. It’s a vision of Godly splendor not just for believers, but for all flesh. Indeed, the prayer asks that God give us a pathway l’takein olam — “to heal the world.”
You may hear in that phrase a similarity to tikkun olam. I think that’s where the aleinu reveals its power. Yes, it’s a prayer said by Jews. But what are we asking for in the prayer? To be left alone in peace? To have a little corner of the world where nobody bothers us? No. Instead, it anticipates a time when kol yoshvei tevel — “all who dwell on earth” — will be united.
Of course, lots of folks want humanity to be united. It’s a noble goal on it’s face, but it can be reached in any number of ways: for the residents of Babel, unity was expressed via a gleaming tower reaching to the heavens; to the venture capitalist, unity means the instant flow of capital to any and all markets; in the fever dreams of the Nazi, unity would be expressed in the thousand-year reign of the Third Reich.
But to the audacious idea of unity, the aleinu adds a hope that unity will be achieved l’hafnot eilecha kol rishei aretz — “when all evil will be turned” to the sacred. Bayom ha-hu yih’yeh Adonai echad, u’shmo echad. “On that day,” the prayer concludes, “God and God’s name will be One.”
Notice the similarity to the Shema in those words, Adonai echad. “God is one.” Aleinu tells us that it’s upon us to build a world in which the unity of God is true for everyone. To do so, we as Jews cannot take just any path. To reach the uniquely radical end of a human race — wicked included — turning to God as one, we must employ equally radical means.
Nothing less than the fate of humanity hangs in the balance. What will be that fate? The story of a people devoted to the idea of one God who demands ethical action, inspiring the world to follow suit? Or the story of just another people who staked a claim in the noisy marketplace of religious philosophy? Whether the fruit of our labor will be the unity of our species — or, conceivably, its disintegration — is the deepest of questions that needs answering when we consider the still-open book of our people’s religious quest. Indeed, it is the main task that is aleinu, that is upon us, that is up to us.
As we hope and pray for the unity of all humanity – achieving that goal requires us, as Jews, to do our part. That’s why I like the lines about the Jews being different. As kingdoms and empires have come and gone, Jews have persisted, a funny little people looking toward the glorious vision of a world based on values and ethics. Even today, “God still wants [Jews] to create in our contemporary world the society of justice and ethics,” writes Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi, as a people with a “particular role to play and a particular relationship with God that demands creating and sustaining an ethical society.”
I believe that this instinct lives in the heart of every Jew. You can see it in the writings of our students at CBE, and hear it in the words they speak. They are looking for a world of meaning and integrity, value and purpose. Their souls and spirits have uplifted me throughout my time here. I’m so glad that I’m blessed to confirm our 10th graders in this, my last month serving CBE.
Because everything I’ve tried to accomplish as your rabbi has been in service of the vision that Rabbi Beit-Halachmi describes, the vision that the aleinu so eloquently outlines. I have endeavored to teach a Torah of integrity, to build a community made up of both Jews and non-Jews based on our most cherished values, to join with that community to advocate for the universal dignity of all humanity.
Not every people emphasizes this work. At our best, the Jewish people take it upon themselves, now as in the past, to seek and pursue that vision, to be rodfei tzedek, those who “chase justice.”
It has been an extraordinary blessing to do that powerful Jewish work with you. I am deeply grateful for the opportunity. I pray that you are all blessed with joy and health, sweetness and light in the months and years to come — and that you find yourself propelled into this glorious world to advocate for the same for all of God’s creatures.
