Anna: What is the point of these spaces? I think a lot about what it means to be accommodating and how wide of a breadth of accommodation there is. Yadid: I have found that in a lot of spaces, people that are less observant actually are very stringent on their Egalitarianism to the point that it almost feels like, I will not compromise on this value either. Sami: When someone is organizing a space, even just to have conversation, the person organizing it has some set of values that makes them, you know, unique and they’re gonna imbue those values in it no matter how hard they try not to. Donniel: This notion that we have to always be together doesn’t respect the differences that we really have. But are there times when we can come together? Anna: Welcome to Future Tense, a show that puts today’s biggest Jewish questions in the hands of the leaders of tomorrow. I’m Anna Weiss from Los Angeles, California, a rising senior at Muhlenberg College, and I’m one of your hosts. When I went on the Shalom Hartman Institute’s Hevruta gap year program, it was the first time I learned about pluralism—what the word means and what it looks like in practice, and how we set up a pluralistic space. Pluralism is one of the main values of Hevruta, connecting Jewish students who come from a wide array of Jewish backgrounds and upbringings. I remember we put a lot of time and energy into making sure that people felt welcomed and comfortable. I remember a house party that took place during Pesach, hosted by a Hevruta member who grew up chiloni, completely secular and didn’t know what a Kosher for Pesach party looked like. He made sure to get in touch with Orthodox friends on the program and asked several questions about which liquor to get and what snacks to have to ensure that everyone, regardless of religious or Halakhic practice, was able to participate and have fun. I remember ending the night, falling asleep on the couch, munching on a box of Matza he had bought that day for the party. It was a beautiful display of pluralistic values and ideals and practice. In a similar vein, I remember a mistake I had made early on the program. I planned a game in which most of the groups sat in a circle with their eyes closed, and a few people were chosen to stand up. They were asked questions like, who’s someone with a beautiful smile? Or who’s someone you wanna become better friends with? And people standing up would tap the heads of those sitting silently, eyes closed in the circle. As, as I was setting up and explaining the game, one of the Hevruta members came up to me and told me that she was shomer negiah, the Halakha that forbids touch between men and women outside of family and marriage, and that she can’t tap the heads of boys on the program. Even as someone who grew up in schools and camps and synagogues that enforced shomer negiah, it had completely slipped my mind when planning this game for our pluralistic space. When it comes to creating religiously pluralistic spaces on Hevruta, I think about the “trichitza” we put together: There was a section for men, a section for women, and a section that was mixed. I grew up in modern Orthodoxy, davening with the mechitza, where men and women sat separately. As the program began, I strictly sat on the women’s side. In this space, we all felt a little uncomfortable. Nobody’s practice is perfectly met, but that was kind of part of it. We all compromised to try to make a space that allowed for diversity of practice. The trichitza also allowed for me and others to explore different kinds of practices, different places to sit, as I eventually switched to sitting in the mixed section. It also helped us understand and learn about each other’s backgrounds and practices better. At the same time, we often defaulted to the tunes and languages that suited one specific denomination, and rarely strayed away from that. Reflecting on these different experiences I had surrounding attempts at pluralistic spaces and values, I wonder what it means to create a pluralistic space. Is the goal to accommodate everyone? Is the goal to just have mutual respect for different ideas and pactices? Is the goal to share practices with everyone engaging in the same kind of prayer service? Are these things even possible? I want to turn to and invite my wonderful co-hosts to introduce themselves. Sami: Hi, my name is Sami Jinich. I’m from Chevy Chase, Maryland, and I just graduated from Duke about a month ago. Yadid: It’s a pleasure to be joining you guys. My name’s Yadid Orlow. I just graduated from Binghamton University and I’m from White Plains, New York. Anna: Thank you so much guys. I wanna begin by asking, what are some of your experiences with pluralism and pluralistic programs? What have you found to be challenging and exciting about these spaces? Sami: You know, Anna, I’ve spent a lot of time in many spaces that call themselves pluralistic, from Hartman’s gap year program that you were on. And by the way, I love the, the programs that you, and the activities that you ran for us. Also I went to a pluralistic Jewish elementary school and was very involved in Hillel, which of course ran a lot of pluralistic activities and things at Duke. But I think it’s honestly a little bit challenging for me to have a metric to reflect on these experiences without first being able to define the terms and sort of say what pluralism is or what it’s for and how it’s supposed to function. In my experience, none of the three spaces I listed actually has any accessible definition of pluralism. And so I think you sort of started offering a bit of an idea of what pluralism could be. And I think I would add to that to say maybe it’s a, some, some combination of respecting each other’s differences, seeking coexistence, and maybe sort of having a belief that everyone benefits from being in each other’s presence when there’s a lot of difference. But even if we sort of agree, and I don’t know if we do, but if we agree that that’s, you know, a main component of what pluralism is, I think there’s many different types of spaces that I’ve been in, including the three that I listed, where the way that they act out those aspirations is very different and maybe some are more successful than others, where some could be called pluralism and some maybe don’t even fit the terminology. And to give maybe two specific examples, I went to visit my brother at his university a few years ago, and at his Hillel, there’s a lot of Jews at this school and enough that there are enough people from different denominations to make it so that everyone could go to their own space for prayer and have their own services, and then they can meet up with each other in the hallways or sort of be under one roof when they have meals afterwards. But if you want to engage with someone in their practice, it would mean sort of being a welcome guest in their space, and not necessarily sharing the experiences at once. That’s one example of sort of being under a shared roof. Versus, I think, what Hartman was for us in particular, I think because it was COVID and it was, we were sort of forced to always be together and not go to our preferred spaces out in, in Jerusalem, which was, you know, like you said with the trichitza sort of doing what I would maybe call like frankensteining and morphing all of our practices into one and trying to do something where, ultimately, we’re all a little bit uncomfortable ’cause no one is in this space that they’re actually used to. But it’s a little bit more of a fair playing field where we’re all sort of trying to intermingle and learn from each other. And I’m not sure which one was sort of more successful or which one could be called pluralism. I’m curious what y’all think about that. Yadid: Yeah, I mean same. Those examples are really rich, I guess, whether it be the putting everyone under one roof with different kinds of prayer that are distinct versus like Frankensteining it where you have one homogenous prayer space that sort of works and sort of doesn’t for everyone. I wonder if either are actually pluralism and if either are actually spaces that are successful in their pluralism and maybe even a broader sense, like does pluralism work at all? Anna: I guess that’s kind of also, it’s like what is the goal or what is the point of these spaces? I think a lot about, like, accommodation, and what it means to create, when we’re talking about especially pluralistic spaces, what it means to be accommodating and how wide of a breadth of accommodation there is. With Hevruta, a lot of it, and a lot of what Hartman does is more like religious pluralism, but there are some axes in places that there are agreements, and some things that we feel the same about are some values that we have in common, but when we’re accommodating for this wide breadth of practice, how far does that go and how much energy and effort does need to go in to that? Especially there are some people who follow some practices who might not even want to be in these spaces in the first place. Sami: Yeah, I would tend to agree with that. I mean, I think that you can’t actually have an all encompassing pluralistic space because there have to be some sort of shared values that attract people to come to that space in the first place. But I’m, I’m curious, Yadid, I mean, it seems like you, you think that even that might not work. Like, do you think that there could be a successful pluralistic space that is sort of revolving around only certain axes and not trying to be all encompassing? Yadid: I mean it depends. I think that there has to be a distinction between, like, respect for other people’s opinions and pluralism and communality and tolerance. Like there’s a lot of different phrases and terminology, but it’s all effectively like, do we all respect each other? And I think the answer is no, because in these spaces that are allegedly pluralistic, there is almost always an underlying agenda, and I think to your question of like, is it okay if there is an underlying agenda and if we agree on some things but disagree on others, like is that really pluralism? Meaning, I guess I think about like the Shalom Hartman Institute where it’s a liberal Zionist organization, so by and large, everyone’s welcome, if they fit into certain parameters. Does that really mean everyone’s welcome? No. Is that really therefore pluralism? I don’t think it is. Sami: Well, but why does everyone have to be welcome? Right? Can’t just a wide swath of people be welcome and not literally every single person? Yadid: Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s pluralistic. Then it could mean it’s opening and welcoming and it’s meaning like I feel comfortable dealing with people that exist in my comfort zone, but then it’s not pluralism. Like we’re just dealing with people that we agree with. Sami: Well I just think that we’re defining pluralism differently then, at that point. Anna: Yeah, well, ’cause I’m also thinking about an experience that I had like a few, a few summers ago, god, five summers ago when I was 17, I went on this week-long camp. It was an economics and leadership camp. Weird combination. We were 45 kids and, nobody knew anyone beforehand. We were not just from all over the country, but there were kids from other countries too. It was the first time I was in a program where I was the only Jewish person. It was also the program that actually got me interested in Hevruta because it was the first time I was in a space where we were all so different. We had very different backgrounds, very different families, very different religions, very different, even things that we were interested in, hobbies that we had. But we had a deep mutual respect and understanding for each other, and we valued those differences. And I learned so much from these different people. And that was a thing where it was like, anyone, anyone is welcome. And yet, you know, there are some guidelines and there are like ways that we’re having these conversations. There are also like you, things that you have to be interested in, we clearly are all there because we’re interested in leadership and, and respect and community. Does it have to be open to people that aren’t even open to that? Because like, I don’t think that’s possible. Yadid: But I guess, what does it mean when the differing values are contradicting? What does it mean when like someone believes staunchly in egalitarianism and in being able to dress in any way that they want as a means of self-expression, and someone else really staunchly leaves in halakha and in dressing in a way that means covering their collarbone and their shoulder, and those two people can’t really exist in the same space and like, that’s something that I’ve been wrestling with in this conversation of pluralism and creating pluralistic spaces because therefore you can’t have everyone… Sami, like, to your point, like you can’t have people with differing perspectives in the same room. Sami: Yeah, I mean, I guess it, it’ll just depend on the context. Like I, I agree with you. You’re certainly very limited and, and I have been uncomfortable in sort of feeling like I, you know, it, I’m able to sort of updress and I am able to accommodate for people who have more restrictions. And it’s sometimes unfortunate that I feel like those people who have more restrictions can’t come into my spaces. But I think what ends up happening is I don’t ask them to come to my service with guitars. I just meet them somewhere else where they can be and we talk. Which maybe is, it’s not ideal, I guess. Anna: I think, also, thinking about, like, clothing specifically, it’s like I, on my own, can decide what I wear; somebody else can’t tell me how to dress. And so it’s like I, on my own, as an, let’s say as an Prthodox woman, which is what I was for a lot of my life, or an Orthodox, modern Orthodox girl, I had a dress code that I upheld, either because of my schools, or because of my family, or because of my synagogues, because of my camps… That didn’t mean that I could now tell other people that to exist in the same room as me, that they have to dress differently, because now you’re putting rules on how other people can exist in these spaces, as opposed to like understanding, we all exist in these spaces differently. And also when you enter certain spaces, like I know in some places I should wear a skirt. I should try to cover my tattoos. My, you know, I should not be having visible cleavage. Part of that is also, like, respecting the space that you’re in. Yadid: But it would be illusory to not acknowledge that, like, by not creating certain parameters, we are saying that some people aren’t actually invited, even if we’re sending them an invitation, because we know they’re never gonna go there. It’s like inviting a vegan person to a party where all you’re gonna serve is brisket. Brisket is delicious, and I have no disrespect to vegan people, but the invitation is sort of like, it’s underhanded. Anna: So I guess it’s kind of, again, what are the goals in these different kinds of pluralistic spaces? I think this is a perfect time to welcome in our guest, Donniel Hartman. Donniel Hartman is president of the Shalom Hartman Institute and the host of the award-winning podcast For Heaven’s Sake. An author and prominent essayist, Donniel has founded extensive education, training, and enrichment programs for scholars, educators, rabbis, and religious and lay leaders in Israel and North America. Donniel, thank you so much for being with us today. Donniel: It’s a pleasure to be here. Anna: I think I’m gonna turn to Yadid for our first question. Yadid: Thank you. So Donniel, thank you obviously for joining us. I guess in my experience, in different spaces that attempt to create pluralism or create pluralistic spaces, it actually doesn’t seem to work. And so I’m wondering if you could just give us a theoretical and also like a very practical definition of pluralism. Donniel: Okay. You’re right that they don’t work because pluralism assumes that you encounter someone who’s different than you, and you feel that they’re of equal value to you. So pluralism is different from tolerance. Tolerance is about tolerating differences. Pluralism is about difference, which you believe is of equal value. There’s no hierarchy of value. They’re just as good as you, but they’re not you. So pluralistic spaces is this strange term that in many ways abuses the term pluralism, ’cause pluralism doesn’t assume that every difference you have to believe is of equal value. There are differences that aren’t of equal value. And even differences which are of equal value, it doesn’t mean that you want to adhere to them or abide by them. So the notion of a pluralistic space really has very little to do with pluralism itself. It has to do with a different idea, and that is the idea of whether we need to create a space where all Jews should be comfortable or not. Or where all Jews feel that they could engage with each other at the same time. So pluralistic spaces, even the term itself, there are people who I don’t wanna have in my pluralistic spaces, not… because I’m a pluralist, that means that there are some differences that I think are of equal value. It means that I don’t believe that all the truth abides in my ideology or in my opinions. It doesn’t mean that there aren’t some opinions that I don’t agree with and that I don’t wanna accept. Because I’m a pluralist, I don’t have to accept fascist. Because I’m a pluralist. I don’t have to accept a misogynist. Because I’m a pluralist, I don’t have to accept somebody who wants to discriminate against other people. So this notion of pluralistic spaces is really actually a sloppy term. It’s a sloppy term, conceptually. Then if you wanna dig down the question of a, of creating spaces where a plurality of, let’s say in your, in our case, a plurality of Jews could, could reside, the question is for what? For what end and for how long? And this notion that there is this commitment to a pluralistic space where everybody will be equally comfortable, I think it actually grows out of a mis, out of an abuse of the term, ’cause for many people, pluralism means accepting everybody’s opinions, but that’s closer to relativism than pluralism. Now, if I’m a relativist, I could sit with anybody at any time because there is no good, there is no bad, there is no right, there is no wrong. So by abusing the term, pluralistic, I’m a pluralist. No one’s a pluralist or… unless they’re a relativist. Pluralistic means that I accept everybody? No. So pluralistic spaces grow out of an abuse of the term. And then we have some of the challenges and questions that all of you are, that all of you raised beforehand. Sami: I, I have maybe a question in response to another piece of what you, you were talking about. I got the sense and, and correct me if, if I didn’t understand, that you’re not trying to make everyone, as you said, agree with each other, or just like think that everyone else could be right, because as you said, that’s relativism, but that we think that not necessarily everyone, but that many other people that their ways of, of practice or of living are as valuable to ours. But my concern is that, do we need to value them before we invite them into this space? In which case, how much are we able to learn? Because of, of course, with the examples of fascism, I don’t think many people will argue, oh, well, I’m not sure if I, you know, value them. I have to like invite them to the space first. But I think there are some spaces, or some people, like, I think for many secular Jews, the lifestyles of, of Haredim, where they’ll think, ah, like I’ll just write them off from the start. But maybe you have to invite them in first, thinking that there might be problematic elements to their lifestyle or their belief beforehand. Donniel: It’s, it’s a great question. I don’t have, it’s, it’s a great question. I don’t have an answer to it. See, first of all, pluralism is a, is an outlook in which you could assume that there are truths that aren’t your own. That there is good and value in others. And when you have a pluralistic disposition, you’re open to learning. And, and you’re absolutely right, Sami, you only, it’s… you, you, you really appreciate someone when you encounter them. But that’s not necessarily creating pluralistic spaces. Sometimes it’s about creating spaces which are now technically called “radical listening.” Radical listening, when you’re willing to go into a space, which you know is not where you wanna live, and it’s not, or at least you initially don’t think that’s where you wanna live, but you’re going there just to learn. And therefore, it’s not about debating, it’s about just going and hearing, just listening. And then that experience creates an awareness of the complexity of the other that might lead to a whole array of responses. It might be that after radical listening, you think the other person’s crazy and you wanna have nothing to do with them. Could be after radical listening, you say, you know, I think they’re wrong, but there’s some value. And I, I think they should have a place in my community. Or I, I have to treat them differently or relate to them, or talk about them differently. And sometimes radical listening makes, makes you, wow. The things that I thought were thought were so wrong, I actually feel great value, but it doesn’t mean you wanna become them, it just means that you could see that there’s value in them. Now, when you see that there’s value in the other person, you’re willing to accommodate them and be in their spaces more often because you’re not gonna compromise to do something that you think is fundamentally wrong. And by the way, tolerance doesn’t demand that. Neither does pluralism. It just demands that you allow the other person to do something that you think is wrong. And the case of pluralism is that you allow the other person to do something that you think is valuable even though it’s not what you wanna do. But if you think it’s valuable… so, for example, like I, I’ve experienced and, and believe for many years in the inherent equal value, even though I’m an Orthodox Jew, of Conservative and Reform Judaism. And as a result, it makes it much easier for me to go pray in those environments because I, I feel like I’m praying in a place that’s Jewishly valuable. If I felt that this was a place that, that’s a Jewish abomination, it would be very, very hard. But then again, I’m willing to not fulfill certain principles that I might choose to live by in my own life at certain times, even though I’m not joining other synagogues on a permanent basis. I prefer an Orthodox-Egalitarian service for myself personally, but I could go into another space ’cause I feel there’s great value. So pluralism helps me be open to that. But it’s a process. It’s a process. It’s not like I just, I push a button called pluralism at the beginning and everything, everything follows, you know, anything that I want follows just doesn’t work that way. You’re right, I’m, I might be pluralistically inclined. And then as I experience over time, I might be willing to, to accommodate, but there’s always gonna be boundaries. This notion that, oh, if we’re just, can’t we just get along? No, we could just respect each other, but just get along? What does that mean? That means I have to do things whether I’m, whether I’m a committed Reform Jew or Conservative Jew or egalitarian Orthodox Jew, I have to be committed to non-egalitarianism? Or if I’m a traditional Orthodox Jew, I have to accept that women shall fulfill certain roles and services that I don’t feel comfortable with? Those are unbridgeable in many ways, and, and I don’t think they need to be bridged. Sami: You know that, I guess some of what you said surprised me a little bit, I think in a, in a positive way, and I think leads well into another question, or maybe it’s more of a seeking guidance than a question that I have, which is that I, I have felt like it’s a little bit, I don’t know if unfair, but unfortunate that I have felt, and, and I guess maybe you’ll, you’ll prove me wrong right now, that it’s easy for me when I’m trying to sort of act in a pluralistic way and do more than just radical listening, but actually partake in someone else’s tradition in order to understand it better. I, as someone who grew up in very secular spaces, a Reform Jew, can go to an Orthodox service and feel uncomfortable, but I’m not doing something that’s against, you know, a fundamental tenant, you know, I’m not, not breaking halakha, but I have a hard time asking someone who, you know, needs a mechitza to come to my space and pray with me, or to use his phone on Shabbat, or do things… I mean, maybe phone on Shabbat’s less significant, but it seems like it’s a one-way train and we’re sort of accommodating for the lowest common denominator. And I guess you said for yourself that you’re as an Orthodox Jew able to, you know, act in a pluralistic way, that you make yourself uncomfortable to go to places where, you know, it’s not exactly your practice and not fulfill some of the values you care about. But is that something that you think all, sort of… people who are more strict, that they should do as well? Or, or what can I do as someone who wants others to understand my way of life? Donniel: The first thing… great. The first thing you need to do, I believe, I don’t know if you need to do it, but it’s a suggestion. The first thing is—stop assuming that it’s easy for you to compromise and it’s hard for the other person to compromise. When you come in with that assumption, it’s… any shared spaces, let’s call them shared spaces, instead of pluralistic spaces, are gonna be inherently difficult and abusive to you because you’re gonna meet people who say, listen, it’s not that I’m not nice, I just can’t compromise. And you’re gonna… but you can, ’cause what do you care? You could pray with a mechitza and without a mechitza. Really? You’re committed to a certain egalitarian way of life as a value. It’s not as a comfort. You have a vision of Judaism that you believe in. So when you go into a space, and you might have a Shabbos, which has a specific nature to it. And you’re right, it doesn’t mean that, oh, if I don’t use my phone, everything is terrible. But music, there might be experiences that are integral to your Shabbat that you wanna keep there. In other words, you have as many things to compromise on as an Orthodox Jew has to compromise on. And then comes the question. When two, when one group, one person says, and this goes back to an old Ben Gurion statement, if one, one group sees themselves as an empty wagon and the other one’s a full wagon, who’s gonna compromise? But if both are different types of full wagons and you come to each other and you say, what could I do? And then the question is, why do you even wanna pray together? ’cause not everything, because I’m a, I’m committed to pluralism, doesn’t mean that I have to pray together. I, for example, believe that Jews shouldn’t pray together. They shouldn’t pray together, because there’s real principles that some people aren’t ready to compromise on. And that’s okay. That’s okay. That’s why at the Hartman Institute, we don’t organize collective prayer. We don’t do that. We let each group pray in the way that they would like to pray. That’s safer. Now, there are other times, like you mentioned, examples of, of negiah or, or dress, where there are ways in which different people could possibly make room for the other without feeling that their principles are compromised, but negiah is easier in a game, and dress is more complicated because how a person dresses is a, is an indication of, of the way they wanna express their identity and their place in the world. And telling somebody, you know… is, is my dress the problem? Is where you’re looking the problem? Like all… there are spaces where, again, it just depends on how much… And here I’d like to put one idea on the table. How much is it a value to actually be together? See, we have a principle in our tradition that values, there are value priorities, and if there’s a value priority, so for example, saving a life is a priority, so to save a life, I’m, I, I’m willing, or I’m, I’m even obligated to violate certain principles. So what about saving the life of the Jewish people? What about making sure that we have collective cohesion? Now it doesn’t, I’m not making it the same as saving a life, but what are you willing to do for the sake of that larger value? So when it is like there’s three problems. One, I could easily compromise; the other one says, oh, I can’t, I can’t compromise. And that’s get rid of that. And the third is, put something larger. What do we wanna be? I’m not just compromising because I wanna be sweet or politically correct. Because being with you is of critical importance. And that’s why, for example, like in the context of the state of Israel, if Israel belongs to all Jews, what does that mean? How much room do I make for all Jews to be able to feel comfortable here, because I have a larger value for which I’m compromising? And so the question is how do we get more people, and by the way, pluralism is a challenge on the religious right, just as much as it is a challenge on the religious left. It’s about what is it that we wanna do together, and in which cases do we have to do it, and in which instances do we not have to do it? Yadid: I’m wondering though, that actually begs the question to me of like, what’s the point of Judaism at all as a project? I’m imagining, like, the Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and if we’re putting at the very top of it, like saving actual people’s lives, like, is the point of Judaism then to save the Jewish peoplehood as a collective? If so, what does that mean? Like when we’re talking to people that are much more observant of Halakha, are those people saying, actually, we’ve lost the people that aren’t observant of Halakha, and the way to save them is to make them more observant. Like, how do you create these spaces and also have an agenda, which everyone has, whether or not they’re gonna admit to it? Donniel: Great, great question. Thank you for that. See, as distinct from the Maslow hierarchy. Maslow’s Hierarchy has a, a permanent, hierarchy. Basic needs come before spiritual, moral, self-actualization, for example, on an ongoing basis. When we speak about hierarchies, like in today’s conversation, nothing’s permanent and nothing is an end to itself. So if helping the vitality and, and loyalty and closeness and responsibility of the Jewish people towards each other is a value. Is it the only value? No. So then you have to ask, what, what is the counter value? And what is it that I’m being asked? In order to achieve that, what do I need to do? So at all times, if that’s all we are, of course that’s of no value, but that then requires you to say, okay, if that’s one of my values, what price am I willing to pay for it? So am I willing to desecrate the Shabbos for that? No. Am I willing to create a service where, where there’s a, you know, the, tri-mechitza type thing, where everybody could… Maybe, yes. So in, in each case, it’s not the end of the story, but it’s, it’s, it’s just added into the mix. And you are right. I wrote my PhD on this and I spent a lot of time thinking about pluralism, boundaries, tolerance. At some point, if a connection and commitment to the Jewish people is not one of your priorities, not your sole one, but it’s not one of them, for which you’re willing to pay a price, in essence, you are redefining the meaning of the Jewish people, in which only your ideology becomes the Jewish people. And in many ways, certain segments of the Orthodox, ultra-Orthodox community, as distinct from the religious Zionist community, for example, I think, in essence, did that. The religious Zionist community decided that to be part of the Jewish people and to be part of the state of Israel was a religious value for which they were willing to compromise. So maybe the study of Torah was an ultimate value, but the protection and safety of the country is also a value. So I’m gonna combine them. I’m not going to use my study in Yeshiva as a vehicle to not serve in the Army. That’s a decision that you make as you try to value your different priorities. I think part of what happens in ultra-Orthodoxy is that, if you’re not part of my community of Torah, my concern for you gets diminished, unless you know, you could say, no, I care for you. And that’s, for example, the difference between Chabad and Satmar, for example. They’re not the same. Not all Haredim are the same. Chabad has a deep and profound commitment to the Jewish people and they express it, by the way, by doing a lot of things like when you are a, a shaliach of Chabad in Timbuktu, you don’t have a minyan, you don’t have the comfort, you don’t have a lot of, of, of Jewish practices that you would like, so you’re not violating certain things. But a lot of your opportunities, you’re not able to fulfill, but you do so for the sake of another value. But if, if you’re never willing to accommodate, I think as you suggested, I think in some sense you’re redefining who, who are the Jews that you really wanna be a part of? Yadid: I guess my pushback to that, again, ends up being like, just as more observant Jews might be very, like, unwilling to accommodate on their observance of halakha and of the Torah, I have found that in a lot of spaces, people that are less observant actually are very stringent on their Egalitarianism to the point that it almost feels similarly, like, I will not compromise on this value either. Donniel: That’s fine. Egalitarianism is a religious value. That’s halakha. Yadid: Yes. Donniel: So in other words, that’s their halakha. Egalitarianism is a halakha. Respect for different opinions is a halakha. So if that’s exactly what I was speaking to Sami about beforehand. There’s not, like, one side. Both sides have ideologies and that’s why you have to ask, what do I do when we wanna come together? And that’s why this notion that we have to always be together. It just doesn’t respect the differences that we really have. But are there times when we can come together where compromise is not of essential values, where the value of being with the other trumps the other compromises. That’s part of the discussion. And by the way, there’s no rules in it. It’s a personal feeling. It’s like what feels right, and usually when both sides are willing to accommodate, it feels right for both sides. Anna: I think talking about egalitarianism also hopefully leads into a question that I have about critique. So I grew up modern Orthodox. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized it may not so much be my space. A huge thing for me is things surrounding gender, like the expansiveness of my understanding of gender and gender identity. And thinking about, you know, in Orthodox spaces, men and women are separated, or in an Orthodox synagogue, you know, there’s a, between men and women. Thinking about, like, if I brought a friend or like a child who didn’t identify as a man or as a woman identified as non-binary or some version gender flux, there isn’t really a space for them to exist. And I, and I had experiences like in modern Orthodox communities feeling, kind of held back or pushed in my identity as a woman. And for me, a couple of these things feel like valid concerns and critiques that I wanna be able to address and discuss with friends who do still exist in that community. Not in a way to say you’re a bad person, but in a way to just try to understand it. And so I guess my question is like, how can we have those conversations in a way that’s productive instead of accusatory? Where is there room for these discussions? Is there room for these discussions? Is it, is it even worth having it? Sami: Or just like leaving the space and saying, it’s not for me. Anna: Yeah. But I’m thinking like, when I’m in different spaces and I like, I respect people’s differences, I still wanna try to understand. Donniel: Excellent. Thank you. I, I wanna pull apart some of these terms that you used, because they’re really important. So first, like, as I said to Sami, when you were talking, I was feeling a very profound moral commitment on your part. This is a very deep and important moral commitment and a decision you wanna have on what type of life you wanna live. So first, understand the depth of your moral commitment. And that moral commitment is as important to you Jewishly as any Conservative, Reform, or Orthodox halakhic commitment on issues of ritual. Anna: I appreciate that. Donniel: Now you then moved, you then moved into the issue of discussion. See, discussion is very different than ritual participation. Ritual participation. I don’t believe that someone who believes that egalitarianism violates their halakha should be required to go to an egalitarian service. I think, why should they? I’d wanna find other spaces where I don’t encounter that. Similarly, when you speak about a moral commitment to a sensitivity to gender equality, and to gender fluidity, a mechitza is not a place that you wanna be in, so don’t go there. So this notion that because of pluralism, we have to pray together. No, I think we actually injure each other when we do that, and we don’t respect, in many ways, sometimes it’s, it’s un-pluralistic because I’m not respecting the depth of your commitments and your need to live by them, pluralism doesn’t mean that I have to be like you. It just means that I have to respect you, and that I have to enable you and even encourage you to be able to live and to have institutions where you feel morally and spiritually respected and fulfilled. Now, when it comes to conversation, that’s, that’s, it’s something completely different conversation. What’s the purpose of conversation? One purpose of conversation is to learn. I always wanna learn, so of course I wanna talk and I don’t. I’m only gonna talk to people who I agree with? I wanna learn and I wanna grow and I wanna expand my understanding of the world. So of course I wanna talk to people. But that means there’s certain rules to those conversations. That means that I come into that conversation with a genuine interest, not just to talk, but to listen. I come into that conversation trying to understand the other. The other goal of of conversation is also maybe that’s a much safer community for, for pluralism because it doesn’t violate your moral commitments to talk to somebody who you disagree with. And sometimes the way we create community is by creating spaces where we could have respectful conversation. So it’s not about me changing you. It’s the conversation itself. The mutual engagement is the nature of communal life. It’s the way we create bonds of loyalty to each other and care and respect, even though at the end we might disagree. So conversation is very different than ritual moments. If a person believes that hearing an opinion that I don’t agree with, violates my moral, spiritual, and halakhic life, they then essentially, they could only live, they should actually live with a mirror, you know, where they only see themselves. But I know of no halachic prohibition, or even a moral prohibition that doesn’t allow you to talk to somebody. And then you’ll discover who you wanna live with, who you wanna respect, and who you don’t wanna respect. Sami: I think it’s really easy to talk about wanting conversation and I, I, I think, you know on the street you can find someone who doesn’t look like you and you can talk to them, but I think, tangibly, what are the exact spaces where we can have conversations? Because I think something that we had spoken about before amongst ourselves was that when someone is organizing a space, even just to have conversation, no prayer, everything else aside, the person organizing it has some set of values that makes them, you know, unique and they’re gonna imbue those values in it no matter how hard they try not to, right? Like what does one of those spaces actually look like? Donniel: Right. So before I joined, in your intro, you were talking about pluralistic spaces. So I would, I wanna refine my comment from before. A pluralistic space is a space where people who disagree could talk with each other. A pluralistic space is not a place where people who disagree have to pray with each other, eat with each other, play games with each other. It depends. They might, they might not. But a pluralistic space is a space where a plurality of opinions could come together. Now, they might come together for a joint program. They might come together as you, as the example you gave of certain Hillels where everybody has their own space and they have kiddush together. That’s also pluralistic space. As to your comment about someone having an agenda—this is, again, I believe goes back to a core misunderstanding about what we mean about pluralism, as if pluralism means I accept a variety of opinions. Now, pluralism means I’m willing to respect a variety of opinions. I’m willing to make room for a variety of opinions. Everybody has an agenda. There’s nothing wrong with that. Of course I have an agenda. And so do you. The question is whether different people with different agendas could get together and talk, be decent to each other, care about each other, respect each other, and even learn from each other. So pluralism is not relativism and therefore when you see someone as an agenda, how could I be a pluralist? Not at all. I have an agenda. And I hope one of all of our agendas is to enable the Jewish people to be a loving, caring, respectful people. That’s, you know, with pluralism inside the Jewish community, I hope that that’s one of your agendas in addition to your political agendas. But by the way, even when you convene conversations, there are boundaries. Pluralism doesn’t mean that I accept all opinions and it’s perfectly legitimate for spaces to say there are certain opinions that I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna have here. So the Hartman Institute, for example, defines itself as a liberal Zionist institution. Now I have people in the Hartman Institute who are anti-Zionists or non Zionists. I’m willing to talk with people, but they don’t set the tone or the ideology or the educational direction of the institute. I have people who are on the far political right of Israeli society. They’re allowed, if someone wants to come in the door, I allow them to come in. I’m willing to talk, but it doesn’t mean that their ideology shapes, but at the same time, someone who says, like I, I set the following boundaries for the Hartman Institute. They might not apply to yours, my boundaries for, for being a fellow or being a member of the Hartman Institute. If you believe that Israel doesn’t have a right to defend itself and that Israel is the only country in the world which can’t use military force as a just response to an existential threat, you have no place at the Hartman Institute. It doesn’t mean you have to agree with how Israel uses its force, but if we’re the only country that can’t, that by definition is immoral whenever it uses power, you’re not here. At the same time, if you believe that only Jewish people are created an image of God and only Jewish lives matter, you also can’t be at the Hartman Institute. Now, within that, you could be political-right, center-left. you can wanna continue the war in Gaza, end the war in Gaza. There’s a whole spectrum you might wanna, you wanna militarily occupy. All of the above are possible, as long as those two values are acceptable. Then you could actually have a meaningful conversation, ’cause at least there’s some parameters, some shared moral values or principles, which serve as a foundation for our conversation. Anna: Thank you so much, Donniel. We really appreciate you coming and talking to us today. You’ve given us a lot of insight and we have a lot more to look into. Thank you for being here. Yadid: Thank you. Sami: Thank you. Donniel: My pleasure.