Daphne Price is the executive assistant and adviser to Rabbi David Saperstein, Director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism.

This afternoon, at the URJ Biennial Convention, I had the honor and pleasure to hear from Dr. Michael Meyer of Hebrew Union College.  Dr. Meyer lectured on the topic of "American Orthodoxy."  The description of the session read, "We shall discuss the history of Jewish Orthodoxy in the United States, the various shapes it assumes at present, its principles, its inner conflicts, and the direction in which it is moving.  We shall then ask: Is there a common ground on which we, as Reform Jews, can build a relationship with our Orthodox brothers and sisters?" 

Dr. Meyer described the growth of Orthodox Judaism in the United States - what Orthodoxy looked like in the early years, its "mushroom" Jews, the arrival of Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik in the United States and his lasting influence as the founder of Modern Orthodoxy.  He lectured on Charedi Jews and what it means to be an ultra-Orthodox Jew.  He used Chabad as the most popular example, and spoke of the lasting impact of the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, who shaped the Chabad Movement when he was alive, and according to some, even more after his passing.  He described Rabbi Norman Lamm's contribution to the Jewish community as the chancellor of Yeshiva University.  In each case, Dr. Meyer described with vivid examples the great disparity and lack of cohesiveness within the Jewish community, placing Orthodoxy on the one side, and Conservative and Reform Judaism on the other. It felt like the disparity, as he described it, created a huge, unbridgeable chasm between the Reform and Orthodox worlds. 

As I sat through Dr. Meyers' lecture, I heard people laugh at his description of Orthodoxy and Orthodox Jews.  I felt more than a little uncomfortable, maybe even a little despondent.  I am an Orthodox Jew, and even though my ideologies don't always jive with my Conservative and Reform friends, I've never considered our worlds unbridgeable.  Indeed, Rabbi Nachman of Braslav once wrote, "kol ha'olam kulo, gesher tzar me'od. V'ha'ikar lo lephached klal," "The whole world is a narrow bridge. And the main thing is to not fear."

I kept thinking to myself, "Wait, you're missing such an important influence in so many Jewish lives, Rabbi Avi Weiss of Riverdale, NY,"  when suddenly, Rabbi Weiss' picture flashed on the screen.  For the last part of his lecture, Dr. Meyer focused on Rabbi Weiss' Open Orthodoxy and his ideology - and how Reform and Conservative Jews could learn from this brand of Orthodox Judaism just as Rabbi Weiss proclaims to learn from his Conservative and Reform colleagues.  Most specifically, Rabbi Weiss has fostered a reputation for himself as a rabbi of great compassion, an advocate for equality - within halacha - for women, and a heartfelt, authentic passion for Tikkun Olam. 

At the end of the lecture there was a question about Orthodox Jews and Agriprocessors, the now-bankrupt kosher meat processor.  There was a comment about the difficulty in collaborating with the Sephardic community.  A woman commented about how she met other Orthodox women who were largely Jewishly uneducated.  As the only Orthodox person in the room, I grew increasingly uncomfortable. 

So then I did something very much out of character for me.  I raised my hand, was recognized, and suddenly found myself before a large room speaking to the participants in this workshop.  I thanked Dr. Meyer for his insightful comments.  I remarked how I felt like he had described various parts of my own life.  My parents are Chabad and raised me with those values, I spent two years studying at Bernard Revel (Yeshiva University's graduate program for Jewish Studies), at which time I was selected to be Rabbi Weiss' first Torat Miriam fellow, and, since then, for the last 10 years, I have been working at the RAC.  (Dr. Meyer jokingly suggested that I might have some suggestions for his lecture -- I told him we could talk later.) 

I told him (and the room) that I always get the feeling that someone is always the "other."  In the context of this Biennial, I am Orthodox, but everyone else is something else.  You are Reform, and I am the "other."  And that this was a feeling that was hard to live with, and that couldn't be good for any of us, either as individual Jews, or as various denominations within the broader Jewish community.  It just didn't (and doesn't) sit right with me.

I suggested that we were not without hope.  At the RAC we partner, as much as we can, with the rabbinical arms of all the movements: RCA (Orthodox), the RA (Conservative) and the Reconstructionist Jewish Federation.  And even if we don't agree on everything all the time, it doesn't mean that we can't ever find common ground.  

I then turned to the audience, and suggested that perhaps, when Biennial participants returned to their own communities, they might try reach out to their Orthodox neighbors and try to build a new relationship.  They could work together on common ground issues: Habitat for Humanity, Darfur, to name a few.  The list is endless.  There are far more issues of humanity and human rights that unite the community than those that divide.  We tend to focus on the differences between us.  But aren't we all mandated l'taken et ha'olam, to repair the world? Shouldn't that, if nothing else, serve as our common denominator?

I hope someone from Dr. Meyers' audience goes back to his or her community to try to bridge the gap and build a stronger Jewish community.  And I hope and pray that those who try to reach out to their Orthodox neighbors, even if they are rejected, not give up; they must keep trying.  If they are able to find one piece of common ground, surely they can find more.  But even if not, at least, there will be that shared common ground with common goals. 

And I urge you, when you leave this Biennial convention, to do the same.  For many of you, who may have a history of bad relations or who harbor negative stereotypes, I'm not suggesting that it will be an easy step to take.

But you won't know until you try.

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