[Dialogue] RS! on the radio

[KroegerD@aol.com]

Transcript of an interview with Rabbi Kushner who always has great 
stories with great insight and practical thinking. I've seen him in 
person once and he is a delightful guy. He just sucks you in and you 
suddenly "get it". Take you mind off the election for a few minutes and 
enjoy a little perspective shifting.


In this section of the show, Rabbi Lawrence Kushner discusses how the 
Jewish notion of faith plays itself out in deeds and actions rather than 
following doctrine. And through open argument and listening, Kushner 
says, people can experience and bring meaning to the word faith.

Tippett: My next guest, Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, has been called one of 
the most creative spiritual thinkers of our time. He is a rabbi in the 
Reform tradition of Judaism and the author of many beloved books. When I 
sat down to speak with him about different understandings of the word 
faith, I told him that I had a sense faith is not as resonant a word in 
a Jewish vocabulary as it is in a Christian one, and certainly not one 
used as often. He agreed, and he confessed that if he heard the title of 
this show, Speaking of Faith, knowing nothing, he might imagine that it 
is an exclusively Christian program. But he then proceeded to give me 
some of the most compelling definitions of faith which I ever hoped to 
hear. Within his stories, I also find pointed distinctions between faith 
and doubt, belief and religion.

Rabbi Kushner: I was once working with a group of junior high school 
kids. This must have been 25, 30 years ago, and I asked them if they 
believe in God. And I was hoping, as a good teacher, that some would say 
yes and some would say no, and it would be a neat discussion. But no one 
said he or she did. And I was devastated. I mean, they didn't even 
hesitate…

Tippett: Just that they didn't think it was a big deal?

Rabbi Kushner: Yeah, they go "No, I don't believe in God," like "No, 
it's not raining out." I remember being devastated. I remember thinking, 
"So it's come to this, 3,000 years of piety and struggle and agony for a 
bunch of obnoxious little suburban kids that don't believe in God." And 
I wanted to, you know, sort of wring their necks, and I don't remember 
what I did. I probably did the equivalent of falling back a few yards to 
punt.

And then later on in the discussion, I don't know where it came from, I 
said, "By the way, how many of you kids have been close to God?" And so 
help me, every kid raised his hand. And that was a very eye-opening 
experience for me.

And I realized that Jews will say, "I've been close to God, but I'm not 
sure I believe in God." If you ask a Jew, "Do you or do you not believe 
in God?" they're likely to regard it as something that's put to them by 
the House Un-American Activities Committee. They’ll go , "May I speak to 
my attorney? I'm not sure I care to comment on this particluar issue, 
you know." But if you say, "Have you been close to God?" "Oh, well, 
yeah, I was close last Shabbes when Mother lit the candles, or, you 
know, when somebody I loved died, I was aware that the texture of 
religious time was different and that I was more intimate with the 
source of holiness in the universe."

I had a professor at rabbinic school. His name was Samuel Sandmel. He 
wrote widely about Jewish and Christian issues. He was a beautiful man. 
And he was from the South; he spoke with a Southern accent. And he used 
to say to us, "Gentlemen" — in those days, it was only men — "Gentlemen, 
if you don't seriously doubt the existence of God every couple of weeks, 
you are theologically comatose." Well, I think that that sums up neatly 
Jewish attitudes toward belief in God.

Now faith, as you say, I think is a much bigger category than belief or 
not belief. I think faith to me as a Jew means an abiding trust that the 
way things are working out is part of something bigger and probably 
incomprehensible, but just knowing that it's part of a larger 
constellation of meaning is a kind of comfort and a kind of succor and 
solace for a Jew.

Tippett: You wrote, "One reason we find talking about God so difficult 
is we are part of what we are trying to understand." What makes that 
harder to talk about?

Rabbi Kushner: It pushes the edge of language. No, but you're absolutely 
right. I mean, one of the reasons that speaking of faith is such a 
slippery and a moving target is because we're trying to talk about the 
stuff of which we are. We're trying to take consciousness and turn it 
back on itself.

Tippett: I think that may be a good example also. Something that I was 
thinking about as I thought about speaking with you is how 
action-oriented Judaism is, right? I mean, it's organized around deeds 
and not beliefs. As we've been saying, this word faith, and maybe even 
the way Christians often present themselves in public, has so much to do 
with beliefs, not with action.

Rabbi Kushner: Judaism, I think, is an incorrigibly behaviorist 
tradition. It seems to have given up on trying to positively identify or 
clarify the ultimate motive behind any deed. I mean, everybody agrees 
that the ultimate motive should be to do the deed because it's what God 
wants you to do, but it's so hard to figure out what would get somebody 
to do the deed for all the other reasons that Jews finally just give up 
and say, "Just shut up and deal. Just do the next thing."

Tippett: Just do the right thing?

Rabbi Kushner: Do what you're supposed to do.

Tippett: Whether you want to or not, whether you believe it or not?

Rabbi Kushner (whiney voice): "But I don't believe it." The answer is 
just do it because if you wait till you believe it, hell could freeze 
over, and it's better you should do the right thing whether you believe 
it or not because I think Jewish psychology would believe that 
personality and what we're calling faith follows deed, follows right 
action.

Tippett: And at that point, it might be an interesting concept, right? 
Faith that follows action?

Rabbi Kushner: Jews would say, "What do I believe? Well, let's see. I 
went to synagogue pretty regularly. I gave charity. I studied the holy 
books. I was a good person. Well, by God, look at that. I think somehow 
or other, I've become a person of faith."

BREAK

Tippett: In recent decades in America, speech about faith has become a 
controversial enterprise. Stereotypically, strident religious voices 
dismiss other beliefs while proclaiming the rightness of their own. Some 
wonder if it's possible to hold deep religious beliefs and remain open 
to the virtues of pluralism. My guest, Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, is a 
widely respected writer on Jewish tradition and spirituality. He's also 
participated in important inter-religious conversations. He is at once 
open-hearted towards other traditions while thoroughly grounded in his 
own. Speaking about faith, he insists, does not mean that we overlook 
differences. In fact, from his perspective, disagreement can be a way of 
honoring another.

Rabbi Kushner: The way I be a human being is to be a human being of the 
male persuasion. The way you be a human being is to be a human being of 
the female persuasion. We can't take our gender away out of some 
misguided attempt to realize our commonality. Our commonality comes from 
passionately clinging to our uniqueness and our individuality and our 
difference. And I remain convinced that I start by telling you who I am 
and what I believe and arm wrestling with you, having a big fight about 
it. That's healthy. That's fun. I mean, in Jewish tradition, it's a mark 
of high respect. But I also expect that if you continue to be honest and 
I continue to be honest and we stay at it long enough, we'll discover 
that we each have one another's cards in our hands.

Tippett: And that would be speaking of faith.

Rabbi Kushner: Yeah, absolutely. I mean, for Jews especially, going back 
to the image I think we talked about earlier when I said that Jews 
regard the sacred text as so sacred it has an infinity of meanings. That 
also means that there are an infinity of arguments that are possible.

Rabbi Kushner: I once, as a young rabbinic student, was having a cup of 
coffee on the Lower East Side. I had a big volume of Talmud, so I'm 
easily identifiable as a serious Jewish student. And it's true, some old 
Jew comes over to the table with a cup of coffee. There weren't many 
people in the restaurant. It's the middle of the morning. He sees the 
book. He looks at me, he says, "So, you, young man, how about an 
argument?" And I said, "But I believe in God." He said, "OK, I don't. 
Let's argue."

I mean, for Jews, because we have that sacred text in front of us, then 
each one is allowed to fly off in his or her own unique interpretive 
direction. And arguing about the meaning of text is a way that Jews have 
of bringing one another into being again and again.

Tippett: And tell me what it says about the nature of religious truth 
that, you know — you've also written that spiritual truth wants to be 
spoken, that once you speak or show the words to someone else, then both 
of you are different. And what does that say about the nature of 
religious truth, about the ultimate reality that we're trying to get 
inside?

Rabbi Kushner: Right now, if you and I were really brave and really 
fortified and really spiritually secure and we dared open our hearts to 
one another, there's no telling what would happen to us as a result of 
this conversation. I would really have to listen to you, and I would 
have to be prepared for the possibility that you have something new to 
tell me I've never heard before. And once I heard it, I would be 
different. And if you sensed that I had heard it and I was different, 
that would make you different and then we'd have to start all over 
again.

Tippett: And here's something that jumped out at me when I was reading 
you, and you quote Rabbi Menachum Nachum of Chernobyl. Is that right?

Rabbi Kushner: Yes. It's usually pronounced Chernobyl, but that's pretty 
good.

Tippett: Chernobyl. And that's the Chernobyl in the former Soviet Union? 
Or is that another Chernobyl?

Rabbi Kushner: I think so, yeah.

Tippett: An 18th-century mystic.

Rabbi Kushner: Yeah. I mean, the joke among the chassidim is that 
Chernobyl was glowing long before the nuclear reactor accident.

Tippett: Okay, fine. So we just made a joke about it, but here's what 
jumped out at me. He says, 

"There is nothing besides the presence of God. Being itself is derived 
from God, and the presence of the creator remains in each created 
thing." 

And then you concluded that the apparent brokenness, disharmony, and 
confusion that clutter the universe are illusory. But then that is a 
place that we now, a couple hundred years after he wrote that, associate 
with a terrible man-made disaster. Was that an illusion?

Rabbi Kushner: At the end of the Book of Job, if I read it correctly, in 
the whirlwind speech — I think it's chapter 38, 39 — God sort of shows 
Job the ultimate Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom video with lions ripping 
apart gazelles and vultures tearing carrion and hailstorms and 
earthquakes and all. And then God says to Job, "What do you think of 
that, Job? Hope you like it because I'm in that, too. Goodbye."

Tippett: Right. Whew!

Rabbi Kushner: That's the challenge to try to find sacredness in 
ever-increasing less likely places and events, which doesn't mean, I 
want to hasten to add, that we are not still obligated to try to make 
the world the best place we can by whatever good talents and offices we 
have at our disposal. But it does mean that from a religious point of 
view, we're always considering the possibility that there's something 
bigger and holy coming down and that there may be a meaning even for 
that.

Tippett: I also have to say that when you tell that story, I think 
another reason we have to talk to each other about these things is that 
we lose sight of that presence or meaning. We can sometimes point out to 
each other that maybe there's something larger going on.

Rabbi Kushner: Beautiful. Yes. Yes. I mean, that's the job of one 
religious person for another. It's very dangerous. I want to, again, 
hasten to add. 

I say to my rabbinic students, "Don't try talking like this within ten 
blocks of any hospital." This is not pastoral, comforting theology.