As of 2012, one in 20 Americans is identifying themselves as an atheist, agnostic or unbeliever. According to the research done by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life released last year, nearly 33 million Americans list themselves with no religious affiliation. While it’s not specified in the Pew study how many Jews are among the ranks, doubtless the cultural landscape of Judaism is also affected by these larger trends in Western culture.
Part of the reason for this shift is the co-opting of what is perceived to be “religious” by the most conservative forces in society. As narrow definitions of what it means to be a “believer” prevail, people with progressive social values or who doubt a life lived in the boundaries of strict religious practice find themselves at increasing distances from a life defined by religion. Although I am a proud and active Jew, I count myself among those who find this definition of religiosity too constrictive.
It seems the pendulum between doubters and believers is swinging further apart. Those who live in belief become more extreme in their views and less tolerant of any deviation, while those who are more expansive in their views simply drop out rather than stay and fight for the legitimacy of their views.
This binary approach does not move us forward. The question we must ask if we are to give serious consideration to the Jewish future is why are the narrowest definitions winning?
At 83, I’m unusual for my generation in my open doubting. Generally, the younger the age group, the less religious they are. Millennials, specifically those born between 1980 and 1994, the youngest group of adults polled, logged in with 34 percent religiously unaffiliated.
This fits into trends that Jewish sociologists have seen emerging throughout the late 20th century within American Judaism, where intermarriage, lack of affiliation with institutions and general alienation from Jewish life expands amid increasing assimilation.
I refer to this generation as “doubters”: young Jews who openly question the meaning and worth of a traditional Jewish life. The existence of these doubters, with their hard questions about the relevancy of Judaism to their lives and removal from the community, usually is met with alarmist cries of fear about the existence of the Jewish future that I see as unfounded. What frightens me about this information is different.
It strikes me as a loss on two levels. First, the doubter allows the narrowest definition of what constitutes a religious life to dominate. Second, it is the young people self-imposing their own exile from the Jewish people.
While I feel sadness knowing our young people do not always embrace the wealth of heritage that is theirs, I also understand them. That is not to say I agree. I know what it means, however, to look at the Jewish landscape and feel that the existing options offer no home. If one needs to see that in action, look at the religious forces in Israel, where the rabbinate has stifling control over a religious life defined by haredi Orthodox definitions that limit the civil rights of secular citizens. It is a blessing then — of the non-religious variety — that here in America we live in a society that allows so many avenues of religious expression.
In my youth and young adulthood, there were unifying causes of the Jewish people — something we all stood behind because we knew it was right. We stood together against the Holocaust, for the State of Israel and to free Soviet Jewry. Such a single, uniting principle allowed even those who did not see themselves inside of religion to still feel a place among our people.
In modern times, however, this central cause is lost to us. The threat of anti-Semitism is not as vital as it once was for many of us — especially here in America — and the threats to Jewish lives and well-being become more and more theoretical and remote for younger Jews, especially those who distance themselves from Israel.
So what are the experiences that will guide us to a better Jewish future? There is a triple response here: education, positive communal experiences and unifying causes of social justice.
Jews are now secure enough, especially in America, to focus on the betterment of all humanity, not just the Jewish people. Coupled with that is the need for even doubting Jews to educate themselves about their heritage and traditions. Those practices need not be limited by the most religious interpretations.
Acknowledging a Judaism that embraces doubt is one way in which we, like our forefather Abraham, can expand our tent. It is time to be realistic about the future of the religious and cultural heritages of Judaism.
In abandoning the doubters, we are abandoning the hope that the legacy of our meaningful texts, beautiful rituals and unique view of the world will live on — not because we didn’t embrace religion, but because we didn’t embrace doubt.
Edgar M. Bronfman is the president of the Samuel Bronfman Foundation and the former president of the World Jewish Congress.