Ask the Rabbis | What Would Astonish a Time Traveler From 1975 About Your Denomination Today?

HUMANIST 

A time traveler from 1975 would be astonished at how far Humanistic Judaism has evolved while staying true to its naturalistic values—grounded in reason, human responsibility and the understanding that the world operates through natural forces. They would marvel that although we are openly nontheistic, we still have successfully maintained familiar Jewish structures: rabbis, congregations, life cycle events and the festival calendar.

They would see our communities singing Jewish songs, gathering for Shabbat and studying Torah and other Jewish literature to better understand what our ancestors believed. They would watch us light Shabbat candles, make Havdalah and celebrate holidays rich in symbolism—framed around the idea that we depend on one another, without appeals to divine intervention. They would hear us recite blessings of gratitude, not to God, but in flexible, fresh language that reflects our human-centered philosophy.

The time traveler would be surprised by the explosion of online programs—services, classes and entire communities thriving virtually. They would find Humanistic rabbis trained in our own institute, with ordinations in North America and Israel, and a movement no longer centered on its founder, Rabbi Sherwin Wine (1928-2007), but led by diverse voices.

Perhaps most surprising is that our small, young movement—launched in 1963 by Wine and a handful of families who had set out to start a suburban Detroit Reform temple—has flourished into a global presence. It has gained acceptance and continues to thrive with new liturgies, ideas and creative expressions of Jewish life.
Rabbi Jeffrey Falick
Congregation for Humanistic Judaism of Metro Detroit
Farmington Hills, MI

RENEWAL 

About 50 years after its founding, Jewish Renewal is thriving on multiple fronts. True, some things haven’t changed: The rainbow tallit, ubiquitous in those early gatherings, is still a common sight. And 11 years after his passing, Reb Zalman Schachter-Shalomi (z”l) remains the towering figure of the movement. But Renewal has worked hard to build institutions from within to ensure its work into the future, including professional associations for congregations, rabbis, cantors and chaplains and a robust ordination program that attracts everyone from retiring lawyers to thirtysomethings who want to change the world.

Fifty years on, Reb Zalman’s vision of “recharging” standard Jewish practices with Renewal energy has taken shape.

Post-denominational and neo-Hasidic Renewal influences are found in many liberal congregations. Meditation, mindfulness, chanting, inclusiveness and egalitarianism, environmental awareness and “deep ecumenism” toward other religious traditions have all become mainstream.

Reb Zalman called for a “paradigm shift” in Judaism, and it continues to unfold and develop before our eyes. Reb Zalman was also far ahead of his time in embracing technology. We think Minyan Oneg Shabbat—the only fully functioning “Zoomagogue” in the world—would make him smile.
Rabbi Gilah Langner
Congregation Kol Ami
Arlington, VA

Rabbi Mark Novak
Minyan Oneg Shabbat
Washington, DC

RECONSTRUCTIONIST

In 1975, the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College had existed for only seven years. Mordechai Kaplan, however, the movement’s founder and one of American Judaism’s great thinkers, had been inspiring and angering people for a long time. He challenged the conventional role of women in Judaism by having his daughter become the first Bat Mitzvah in 1922. He challenged conventional theology and the idea of chosenness, which he saw as undemocratic. He wrote a new prayer book—an action that resulted in his excommunication by the Orthodox rabbinic establishment in 1945. He was committed to both American diaspora Judaism and Zionism, while warning against ultra-nationalism in both America and Israel. The attainment of Zionism, he wrote, must mean “ethical attainment; we cannot build our hopes of salvation on injustice to others.”

The Reconstructionist Rabbinical College opened its doors in 1968 and ordained its first woman student in 1974. In 1984, RRC was the first rabbinical school to adopt a non-discrimination policy to proudly accept gay and lesbian students. It has continued to strongly support the leadership of women and LGBTQ students and rabbis.

At each stage there were contemporaries who were astonished (or appalled). I think, however, our seasoned time traveler would not be astonished that the Reconstructionist movement today continues to provide a home for committed Jews who are asking difficult questions as they forge a meaningful Judaism lived out with integrity. Nor that there is a vibrant, difficult and important dialogue around Israel in the movement, one of the few places in Jewish life nowadays where people of so many different opinions are welcome to talk to and learn from each other.

Nor that the dialogue includes rabbis and lay people who, with great love for our people, are heartbroken over the ongoing killing of Palestinian civilians and reject the policy of devastation of Gaza in response to the horrific murders of Israeli civilians on October 7.

Of course, we disagree often, but we have a legacy of asking hard questions. And we are a denomination that is committed to living and growing Jewishly, with creativity, community and courage.
Rabbi Caryn Broitman
Martha’s Vineyard Hebrew Center
Vineyard Haven, MA

REFORM

Reform Judaism lives at the intersection of tradition and innovation. Embracing the core tenets of God, Torah and Israel, Reform Judaism believes that our practices must adapt to the needs of the day. A time traveler would feel pride in how Reform Judaism has adapted but would see that there is yet more work to be done.

Reform communities strive to be places of belonging for Jews and families of diverse backgrounds and structures. Many of its rabbis, cantors, educators and volunteer leaders are Jews of color, with different sexual orientations and gender identities—and yet racism, ethnocentrism, homophobia, transphobia and misogyny are still pervasive. Vibrant Jewish learning, worship and engagement opportunities take a variety of forms, ever seeking to be responsive to the needs, challenges and opportunities of community members—and yet many congregations are struggling and shrinking. The Reform community remains steadfast in the pursuit of social justice for all, obligated as God’s partners in perfecting the world—and yet we do not receive reciprocal support from non-Jewish neighbors, and we find ourselves experiencing increasing antisemitism.

The Jewish world is surely different from 50 years ago. Nevertheless, the words of Rabbi Tarfon from almost 1,900 years ago still ring true: “It is not our duty to complete the work, but nor are we free to refrain from doing it.”
Rabbi Dr. Laura Novak Winer
Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion
Fresno, CA

CONSERVATIVE

In 1975, I was the first girl to become a bat mitzvah in my Conservative synagogue on a Shabbat morning, rather than Friday night. It was a big deal for my community. There were lots of meetings about how a girl could participate in Shabbat morning services. In the last 50 years, all that has changed dramatically: Women read Torah, women count in a minyan, many clergy and most of the lay leadership will likely be female. A time traveler today might even ask, “Where have all the men gone?”

A time traveler would also be surprised that the Conservative movement is facing serious demographic challenges. Mostly, our congregants are older and our congregations smaller than 50 years ago. Once, our mission of managing tradition and change appealed to many American Jews looking for a path that allowed them to look and act American, while also practicing a form of Judaism that felt authentic. Synagogue schools meet for far fewer hours now and for fewer weeks.

Fifty years ago Israel was a topic that unified the congregation. Whether in response to the 1973 Yom Kippur war or the UN resolution declaring Zionism a form of racism, Conservative synagogues unanimously supported Israel and rejected UN Resolution 3379 as antisemitic. A time traveler would notice that such unity is no longer there.

Finally, a time traveler would notice that we are much more worried about security than we were in 1975. In 1975, our doors were open, and we were not suspicious of strangers. If only that were still the case.
Rabbi Amy S. Wallk
Temple Beth El
Springfield, MA

MODERN ORTHODOX

In the 1950s, there were widespread predictions that Orthodoxy, hopelessly associated with the immigrant generation and lower (non-American) status, would disappear. Instead, its religious and political influence have increased sharply. Our time traveler would already have seen Orthodoxy starting to revive in 1975 but today would be further astonished at the internal reversal within Orthodoxy itself. Fifty years ago, Modern Orthodoxy was two-thirds of the community and Haredi or Ultra-Orthodoxy only a third. Now, the proportions are reversed. At Modern Orthodoxy’s flagship institution, Yeshiva University, a lighter ultra-Orthodoxy dominates the seminary that trains religious leaders, who accordingly are modern in their approach to Talmud but bitterly anti-feminist and hostile to LGBTQ Jews. Similarly, the Orthodox Union, the main rabbinical organization, now follows haredi principles in refusing to hire women in any clergy capacity or graduates of the liberal Yeshivat Chovevei Torah. The moral/intellectual collapse in Modern Orthodoxy has led Orthodoxy in Israel and America to become sectarian, more intolerant of non-Orthodox Jews and more observant in religious ritual at the expense of societal needs and social justice.

To be fair, the 1975 traveler would also be astonished at the growth today of a smaller progressive wing of Orthodoxy that has advanced women’s status and learning and ordained women rabbis. This wing has reached out to LGBTQ Jews (an Israel-based seminary ordained an openly gay rabbi) and to the entire Jewish community.
Rabbi Yitz Greenberg
J.J. Greenberg Institute for the Advancement of Jewish Life/Hadar
Riverdale, NY

ORTHODOX

The Orthodox time traveler of 1975, landing in the present, would be astonished by three things. One is that the Orthodox community proved to be the little engine that could. The exponential growth of Orthodoxy, dismissed not so long before as a “sickly weed” transplanted to American shores, has made it a powerhouse within the Jewish community. Second, in 1975 the Orthodox community definitely leaned toward Modern Orthodoxy. Haredim and Hasidim, though present, were a minority, in numbers and in cultural impact. Today, traditional Orthodoxy numerically outstrips Modern Orthodoxy and exerts pressure on the rest of the community—for instance, in requiring very stringent kashrut standards (some would say beyond what is halachically necessary) that all food producers must meet if they are to satisfy a growing proportion of consumers.

Finally, sociologists say every community needs both high and low culture. The “high culture” of Orthodoxy—Torah and Torah study—has blossomed, with a huge amount of scholarly output added every year. But the real surprise is that Orthodoxy also developed its own “low” or popular culture. For those not wishing to share in the general society’s pop culture, there are now “Torah-oriented” novels, short stories, theater, tons of music and a tremendous variety of media, in both Hebrew and English. If one doesn’t want to read The New York Times, Yeshiva World News does quite a good job getting the news to the Orthodox reader. If one wants a glossy magazine, there’s Mishpacha. There are innumerable Orthodox blogs and podcasts. The time traveler would correctly see this as a privilege, to have the option of being independent of the pernicious influence of a general culture that many regard as decadent by Torah standards.
Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein
Cross-Currents
Los Angeles, CA /Jerusalem

SEPHARDIC

I identify as a Sefaradi, and unfortunately, this “denomination” barely exists today. To be honest, it never really was a denomination, but rather a school of thought with a broad gamut. The word Sefaradi is more than a geographical marker: It describes the theology of the heads of the Babylonian academies, which was carried into Sefarad and disseminated all over the Middle East and North Africa, where the majority of Jews lived until the Spanish expulsion.

That theology believed in an open-minded approach to the sciences and to outside culture. Sephardic rabbis were aware of and involved in the life of the community and sought solutions to halachic problems instead of choosing the easy path of saying that everything is forbidden.

I was a child in 1975, but I still remember the easygoing approach of my grandfather, a scion of a long lineage of rabbis and poets. Had he time-traveled to 2025, he would be shocked to see that Orthodox Sefaradim tend to be “strict,” dress in pre–WWII European clothes and are opposed, especially in Israel, to teaching core sciences and STEM. Those Sefaradim who do not consider themselves Orthodox are mostly unaffiliated, because the Conservative, Reform and other movements cannot offer them their choice of traditional yet flexible observance. In conclusion, the visitor would be very disappointed to see a binary observant/non-observant system instead of the inclusive, loving communities of the past.
Rabbi Haim Ovadia
Torah VeAhava
Potomac, MD

CHABAD

When I was in college in 1975, the counterculture still dominated campus. Long hair, revolution, all of it. The Jewish establishment looked askance at these hippies. It was a lost generation, they said, young people bent on destruction. The Lubavitcher Rebbe didn’t view it that way. He saw not anarchists but seekers, young people rejecting all that was staid, dry and hypocritical about their parents’ generation and yearning for more. There was a powerful, honest energy there, the Rebbe said, and it had to be channeled.

That love and open-mindedness attracted me. In 1975 I traded my degree in television, radio and film for Talmudic tracts and Hasidic ideas in yeshiva. I studied Torah in earnest and discovered its eternal wisdom and insight relevant to modern life. Judaism wasn’t just about remembering the past, or meaningless motions. It was real and alive, a way to find my soul’s spiritual roots in this material world. Through mitzvot, G-d had given us a way to perfect an imperfect world. The Rebbe saw not a rebel from Judaism but its seeker. I was not alone.

Today, as an emissary of the Rebbe on campus, I see young Jews with that same energy and thirst. Fifty years later, a time traveler would recognize what the Rebbe saw back then: To help Jewish souls, embrace them with real love and connect them with their essential Jewish self through Torah and mitzvot. It’s the only way.
Rabbi Menachem Schmidt
Lubavitch House, University of Pennsylvania
Philadelphia, PA