The Jews: Next Year in Which Jerusalem?

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tradition. "The American Jew is integrated in American society," says Soloveitchik, "but we have another commitment too, a metaphysical commitment — a covenant with God. We must burden the child with both commitments." Burden indeed: to accommodate the dual study load, the school day at Maimonides runs from 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.

Despite its monolithic aspects, Orthodoxy comprises a host of sometimes bitterly contending factions. There are arguments, for instance, about the fine points of kosher-food preparation, with the result that there are two categories of kosher food — regular kosher, acceptable to most Orthodox, and glatt (smooth) kosher* preferred by the more rigorous ultraOrthodox. More serious disagreements revolve around whether a Gentile who is converted through non-Orthodox procedures is in fact a Jew, or even whether Orthodox rabbis can engage in interdenominational conversations with less observant rabbis. Rabbi Emanuel Rackman, a leading theologian of the Orthodox left, has joined Reform and Conservative leaders on New York's Board of Rabbis, but such cooperation is anathema to the ultraOrthodox.

At least one Orthodox group—the Lubavitch Hasidim—is dedicated to converting less observant Jews back to full observance, and the group usually goes about that task with patience, tact and good humor. One convert to Lubavitch Hasidism, Microbiologist Velvl Greene of Minneapolis, was won over simply by prayer. A young Lubavitch missionary, in the midst of a ten-minute interview with the busy Greene, suddenly looked out the window at the setting sun, realized that it was time for prayer, and, asking Greene's pardon, abruptly stopped the conversation. Putting on a gartel (a cord round the waist that symbolizes the biblical "girding of the loins"), he turned to the window to pray. Greene was so impressed that he invited the young man back for further conversations and gradually became a fully observant Lubavitcher.

Sabbath Combat. Despite the current interest in Orthodoxy's various shades, many Jews resent its exclusiveness. Indeed, Reform Rabbi Alvin H. Reines, of Cincinnati's Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, turns the tables and regretfully excludes Orthodoxy from his concept of Judaism. Reines contends that there is no single entity describable as Judaism, but rather a variety of Judaisms over the ages, each fashioned to its time. Some have lingered on and now coexist, but the common denominator of most is flexibility. Reines would like to see basic unity among believing Jews under an umbrella he calls "polydoxy." Poly-doxy's working principle recognizes the "radical freedom" of every human being to create his own religion for his own "finite needs." By its very nature, says Reines, this formulation excludes those, like the Orthodox, who would restrict complete human freedom with divine commandments.

Orthodoxy—especially militant Orthodoxy—does create problems within Judaism, but in the U.S. these problems are only minor ones, skirmishes of words. In Israel, Orthodox zealotry has created a national law-and-order crisis. Orthodox Jews are naturally inflamed by secular Jews who spend the Sabbath sunning on the beach at Tel Aviv. Secular Jews are exasperated at the kind of Orthodox legalism that debates whether using electricity