Jews are part of one people above and beyond our differences, and we become a greater whole when we stop seeing our brothers and sisters as ‘the other’

Rabbi N. Daniel Korobkin

Beth Avraham Yoseph Congregation, Toronto

Rabbi Lisa Grushcow

Temple Emanu-El-Beth Sholom, Montreal

Rabbi Grushcow: I’m leaving soon for the annual Wexner Alumni Conference, which gathers rabbis, cantors, educators, and Jewish community professionals from across North America and beyond.

One of the aspects of the fellowship that I value most is that it brings together Jews of all different denominations (and none). It’s an opportunity for collegiality in the deepest sense and a chance to ask the big questions of Jewish life across the lines that often divide us.

Here in Montreal, I am grateful for my colleagues across denominations as well, and our ability to come together on the Montreal Board of Rabbis. What’s your experience of cross-denominational relationships in Toronto?

Rabbi Korobkin: I’m also grateful for the opportunity to liaise with colleagues from the different movements. I find that while we may often disagree on how to approach religious issues, there is so much that we can work on together for the sake of the larger Jewish community.

Here in Toronto, there is a rich history of Orthodox rabbis having real and meaningful friendships with their non-Orthodox counterparts. In more recent years, however, this open corridor seems to have been sealed. Some in my community have even been critical of me for having this ongoing written dialogue with you, in their perception that by doing so, I’m “elevating” you and granting you “legitimacy.”

Clearly, I disagree with their perceptions. Your legitimacy cannot be granted or rescinded by any person.

Rabbi Grushcow: It saddens me to hear of these attacks, and I’m glad you continue our dialogue regardless.

From the other end of the spectrum, I sometimes find that in Reform communities there can be over-generalizations about Orthodoxy. Most of all, I’ve encountered the assumption that all Orthodox Jews think all Reform Jews are bad Jews, or not even Jewish.

I try to teach that we are part of one people above and beyond our differences, and that it is better to encounter than assume. I wonder what, beyond our dialogue, we can do to encourage these connections.

Rabbi Korobkin: Misperceptions abound. It’s not just Orthodox versus Reform. It’s Sephardi versus Ashkenazi, modern Orthodox versus haredi, Hungarian Jew versus Polish Jew, politically liberal versus conservative, etc. When we stop seeing our brother or sister as “the other,” we are all enriched and become a greater whole.

Is there more we can do? Of course. One project some BAYT members do in December is to feed the homeless in collaboration with Temple Har Zion, a Reform congregation. But we can, and should, be doing more. The more points of access we can create between our various communities, the stronger we will all be.

Rabbi Grushcow: Co-operation on social justice issues is a good starting point. I would also love to see ways for us to visit each other’s synagogues, learn from each other’s rabbis, study Torah together, and even share Shabbat, without falling back on the belief that there is only one right way. It’s not easy, but neither is it impossible.

I’ll be honest: growing up as a Conservative Jew in Toronto, we called Holy Blossom “the church on the hill.” Temple Emanu-El-Beth Sholom, where I now have the privilege of serving as rabbi, was sometimes called “the church on Sherbrooke Street” by other Montreal Jews. From the other side, “black hats” can be a term used in a derogatory way, which distances us from each other.

One more easy step could be following the mitzvah of shmirat halashon,  speaking of one another with respect and care.

Rabbi Korobkin: How right you are! It’s often been said that we paint the median line of the religion road exactly where we find ourselves – everyone to my left is inauthentic, everyone to my right is a fanatic.

I don’t agree with your way in Judaism. But you are my sister, and that’s what really counts. Changing the way we speak about our fellow Jew sounds so simple. Yet the temptation to disparage the other is a weakness to which so many of us succumb, even among the most observant.

I find that the people who speak the least amount of lashon hara are also the most secure in their own identity, religious or otherwise. Perhaps we, together with our readership, can be part of that small revolution for change.

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