The Movement for Reform Judaism

Erev Rosh Hashanah Sermon, 12th September 2007, 1st Tishri 5768

Whatever you do, don't trust Eimer. And certainly don't trust me. Reform Judaism is mistrustful Judaism.

It’s interesting and disturbing how the past year has seen an explosion in the publication of books attacking religion.  First there was Richard Dawkins with a remarkable best seller ‘The God Delusion’.  Books about religion don’t usually make the best seller list.  Then came Christopher Hitchens – better known in America than Britain, but English and Jewish to boot – with ‘God is Not Great’.  And last week the Today programme’s very own John Humphrys chipped in with another potential best seller, ‘In God We Doubt’.

The reasons for the popularity of these outspoken attacks on religion are many and varied.  But one reason – I think probably the main reason – is given away in the title of the Hitchen’s book ‘God is Not Great’, with it’s ironic allusion to the Muslim declaration Allah–hu Akbar, God is Great.

Since the 1960s we’ve witnessed the rise of religious fundamentalism across the globe.  In Christianity – the fundamentalist churches in the United States to whom President Bush and the American Neo-conservatives have been so responsive.  In Hinduism – fundamentalist Hindus have contributed much to destabilising tensions on the Indian sub-continent.  And, of course, with Judaism – where we too have seen an astonishing renaissance in ultra-orthodox Judaism and a reassertion of old ‘truths’ threatened by modern western thought.  But for we who live within the modern western world led by America, it’s been the rise of Islamic fundamentalism that has provided the most obviously terrifying face of religion.

A few months ago Penguin published, The Islamist.  It’s written by a young British Muslim called Mohammed – Ed – Husain and tells his personal story.  He was born in this country to parents from the Indian sub-continent and brought up in Stepney Green as a traditional Muslim – in other words brought up to live a faithful, observant, ethical life with no overt political agenda.  But at secondary school he experiences isolation and detachment, seeks friends elsewhere   and drifts from his home mosque into a much more politicised community.  At College, he gets drawn into a major Islamist group which is utterly, unbelievably terrifying.

This group, known as Hizb ut-Tahrir, is bent upon Islamic world domination.  It is cynical, ruthless and completely without morality.  It says explicitly that there is no such thing as ethics, that emotion, conscience is to be ignored and all that matters is obedience to the commands of God as clearly and unambiguously taught and stated by the leadership of the Hizb ut-Tahrir.  The book documents how Ed Husain gets sucked in and the enormous difficulty he experiences in breaking away.  Not because he’s imprisoned or threatened, but because the ideas speak to something in him, to unrecognised inner needs and because the joy of certainty is so seductive.

A few days after putting the book down, I realised how much Husains’s experience fitted the profound analysis of that great Jewish opponent of authoritarian, patriarchal philosophies – both religious and secular – Sigmund Freud.  Back in the 1930s , Freud taught the dangers of the seductive voice with it’s offer to remove the need to think and question, with its promise of release from inner conflict, with its certainties and with its promise of joy in return for obedience.  Shockingly, Freud said that we all have that potentiality in us and that we have to be on our guard all the time, constantly questioning ourselves, always living with inner conflicts and uncertainties, constantly preferring mistrust and self-reliance to the allure of the way revealed by the ‘Leader’.

I want now to share with you something that you may find shocking, disturbing but which will dominate my sermons – fortunately this is the only one to be inflicted on you – over the High Holy Days.

It has to do with the Akedah, the story of the binding of Isaac, which will be read either on the first day, or the second day of Rosh Hashanah in all of our synagogues.  It’s a staggering, rich and profound story which has yielded untold teachings and insights down the centuries and continues to do so.  But there is one aspect of it which really troubles me and which I feel the need this year to face head on.

What am I to make of the fact that God tells Abraham to take his son, his only son, whom he loves desperately, Isaac, and sacrifice him, murder him?  What am I to make of Abraham’s unquestioning obedience and of the praise that he receives for his unquestioning obedience?  Surely there can be no more immoral, unethical act than to kill ones own child.  How can any God deserving of worship ask for such an act?  And how can it be meritorious to be prepared to do it?

Of course, I’m not the first Jew by any means to ask the question.  I’m sure many of you have.  And some of you will know of a remarkable answer given by none other than Rabbi Woody Allen:

…. And Abraham awoke in the middle of the night and said to his only son, Isaac, “I have had a dream where the voice of the Lord sayeth that I must sacrifice my only son, so put your pants on.”  And Isaac trembled and said, “So what did you say?  I mean when He brought this whole thing up?”  “What am I going to say?”  Abraham said.  “I’m standing there at two A.M. in my underwear with the Creator of the Universe.  Should I argue?”

“Well, did he say why he wants me sacrificed?”  Isaac asked his father.

But Abraham said, “The faithful do not question.  Now let’s go because I have a heavy day tomorrow.”

And Sarah who heard Abraham’s plan grew vexed and said, “How doth thou know it was the Lord and not, say, thy friend who loveth practical jokes, for the Lord hateth practical jokes and whosoever shall pull one shall be delivered into the hands of his enemies whether they can pay the delivery charge or not.”  And Abraham answered, “Because I know it was the Lord.  It was a deep, resonant voice, well-modulated, and nobody in the desert can get a rumble in it like that.”

And Sarah said, “And thou art willing to carry out this senseless act?”  But Abraham told her, “Frankly, yes, for to question the Lord’s word is one of the worst things a person can do, particularly with the economy in the state it’s in.”

And so he took Isaac to a certain place and prepared to sacrifice him but at the last minute the Lord stayed Abraham’s hand and said, “How could thou doest such a thing?”

And Abraham said, “But thou said - ”

“Never mind what I said,” the Lord Spake.  “Doth thou listen to every crazy idea that comes thy way?”  And Abraham grew ashamed.  “Er-not really….no.” 

“I jokingly suggest thou sacrifice Isaac and thou immediately runs out to do it.”

And Abraham fell to his knees.  “See, I never know when you’re kidding.”

And the Lord thundered, “No sense of humour.  I can’t believe it.”

“But doth this not prove I love thee, that I was willing to donate mine only son on thy whim?”

And the Lord said, “It proves that some men will follow any order no matter how asinine as long as it comes from a resonant, well-modulated voice.”

Even Abraham, the founding figure of Judaism, is vulnerable to seduction.  Even Abraham falls for the resonant, well modulated voice – in his case an inner voice – offering him the rewards of certainty in return for obedience.  And even our ancestors, in recording the story, fell for the seductive tones of responsibility – relieving clarity, rather than the argumentative and challenging questioning which is  not only more characteristic of Abraham – ‘suppose there are ten faithful in the city’ – but more characteristic of the whole of Jewish tradition.

Fundamentalist religion – pedalling truths and certainties, a monopoly on knowledge of the will of God, and offering release both from the duty to think for yourself and freedom from many of the hard – won constraints of civilised society – is everywhere.  And it has prompted the rise of secular fundamentalists – Dawkins, Hitchens – who in turn and with equally resonant voices offer their absolute certainty that there is no God, that religion is false and dangerous.

Beware of all such seductive, resonant, well modulated voices offering you the whole truth and removing from you that which lies at the heart of the human condition – the need constantly to question, to be self critical, to hold the tensions between what you want to do and what you know you ought to do, living with uncertainty and, ultimately, taking personal responsibility for your own ethical behaviour.

If anyone ever tells you that Judaism requires you to act in a way that denies the humanity of your fellow human beings; if anyone ever tells you that God wants you to pursue the bad, rather than the good, don’t believe them.  Always be mistrustful.  Always be aware of the resonant, well modulated voice – even if it’s Eimer’s or, God forbid, even if it’s mine.  And most of all, like Abraham, even if it’s your own.

Rabbi Tony Bayfield

Sermon given at Southgate and District Reform Synagogue on Erev Rosh Hashanah, 12th September 2007, 1st Tishri 5768. To read more Rosh Hashanah sermons, click here

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