Jewish Studies is Too Jewish

DAVID CUTLER FOR THE CHRONICLE REVIEW Jewish Studies Is Too Jewish I Leopold Zunz, a central igure among a generation of secular Jews who sought to study Judaism academically as opposed to religiously, approached the leaders of the University of Berlin with a proposal to create a chair in Jewish history and literature. After brief consideration, they returned with a negative, if disingenuous (they were in the habit of training Christian ministers), decision: The university should not be in the business of training rabbis. Roughly 175 years later and a continent away, well over 200 endowed chairs are devoted to the academic study of Judaism, a number that continues to grow almost every year. It is well known that Jewish largess based on the desire to see Jewish topics taught on campuses, more than administrative design or intellectual inquiry, was responsible for the establishment of Jewish studies in America. To this day, the ield remains subsidized by benefactors. While historically these benefactors have, for the most part, taken a handsoff approach to the way Jewish studies is taught, we’re now seeing the rise of large foundations with distinct ideas about what constitutes Judaism and Jewish ideas. My point: Little has changed in the nearly two centuries since Zunz tabled his proposal. The only difference N 1848, CONSIDER THIS By AARON W. HUGHES B4 THE CHRONICLE REVIEW is that today, the marginalization of Jewish scholarship comes from within. As Zunz and his colleagues sought to connect Jewish history and literature to the canons of scholarship developed by non-Jews, two options opened up before them: Convert and become university professors (Jews were not allowed to teach in state institutions), or teach in one of the new rabbinic seminaries associated with the then-emerging liberal denominations (Reform, Conservative). The latter option essentially meant that they, as scholars of Judaism, would provide the historical and “objective” reasons that change was both allowable and necessary. Despite their appeals to objectivity, many of these scholars provided the intellectual justiication necessary for reforming and altering the tradition, especially its laws, from within. It was a highly ideological mission. Today the situation is the opposite. Jewish studies exists in many universities across the United States and Canada, but it remains marginal. If Zunz desired inclusion within the university, too many scholars of Judaism today are happy to stay on the fringes of intellectual life. Our colleagues in other departments have little idea about what we do. Jewish-studies scholars are often perceived to be quasi rabbis, community appointments to make Jewish students feel good about themselves. Because Jewish studies spent its formative years—from roughly the time of Zunz until the 1960s—not in the university but in the yeshiva or seminary, it has the tendency to be insular and ethnic, which can quickly lead to identity politics. This is not surprising. After all, Jewish studies came of age on American campuses in the late 1960s and 1970s, the years in which all those excluded from the Enlightenment project (women, African-American, Jews) began to demand inclusion, on their own terms, and wanted to celebrate their own accomplishments. The late 1960s also witnessed a swell of ethnic pride among American Jews, facilitated by Israel’s victory in the Six-Day War. With Jewish-studies departments and program springing up throughout the country, however, Jewish texts continued to be studied using internal, seminarylike models, and the newly encountered theoretical frameworks, derived from other disciplines, became problematic because they threatened the uniqueness of Jewish content. One could study medieval Jewish philosophers, for example, without an intricate knowledge of the Arabo-Islamic intellectual, religious, social, and cultural contexts in which they lived and wrote. Of the over 200 professors in endowed chairs in Jewish studies listed M AR C H 2 8 , 2 0 1 4 on the website of the Association for Jewish Studies (AJS), well over 95 percent have recognizably Jewish names. Is it really the case that only Jews are interested in studying Judaism? One could make the case that much scholarship in the humanities is about self-discovery and searching for personal and collective meaning, but the number of Jews academically studying Judaism dwarfs the numbers of people studying other religions and self-identifying as practitioners (for example, in Islam, Buddhism, or Hinduism). Not that all Jews who study Judaism are religious; however, the situation does raise the thorny issue of identity politics in the heart of the ield. Since I have an ambiguous-sounding last name, often the irst thing I must do is explain it to colleagues at conferences or to audiences after public lectures. (For the record: I am Jewish.) When I am introduced to people at the AJS annual meeting, people ask me to repeat my last name before they look quizzically at my name tag. As a graduate student, I was once told by a well-meaning professor of Jewish studies that, with a name like mine, I might have a dificult time inding a job. I wonder how many bright young undergraduate and graduate students out there are discouraged from progressing in the ield on account of perceptions of non-Jewish backgrounds. Years ago, when Jacob Neusner, the scholar who has done more than anyone to bring the study of Judaism into the mainstream, broke with the Association for Jewish Studies on account of its parochial nature, he criticized those associated with the group for engaging in little more than special pleading. In Jewish studies, he quipped, one does not have to justify why one works on what one does. That Jews wrote the texts is enough to engage in their study. There is little or no attempt, in other words, to demonstrate why the texts we work with are of more than parochial interest. Perhaps the Hebrew University of Jerusalem takes this to its logical conclusion when, for example, departments of “general” philosophy exist alongside departments of “Jewish” philosophy. Another feature that has an inluence on Jewish studies, regardless of temporal or geographic area of study, is Israel, the perennial elephant in the room. Is the Jewish-studies scholar supposed to be the local Zionist cheerleader on campus? The pull of the scholar among various local and campus constituencies is unpleasant and fraught, especially if local donors have funded, in whole or in part, the scholar’s position at the university. What happens if the scholar and the local community have different ideas about Israel and about the legitimate rights of, say, Palestinians? The difference in expectations between community and scholar, not to mention in political views when it comes to Israel, can be drastic. Many American Jews are knee-jerk pro-Israel, M AR C H 2 8 , 2 0 1 4 and those scholars and others who take different positions run the risk of alienation. In 2010, Hillel, the largest Jewish-student organization, came out with guidelines deining permissible dialogue on Israel at Hillel-sponsored events. The rules essentially ban anti-Zionist speakers, Jews or non-Jews, from the events. How does the scholar protect the academic study of Judaism from being co-opted by or from joining various ideological agendas? report that things are not getting better, but potentially much worse. Recent years have seen the creation of numerous well-funded and ideologically driven private organizations that seek to make inroads in Jewish studies. I refer, specifically, to the conservative Tikvah Fund, the secular Posen Foundation, and the pro-Israel Charles and Lynn Schusterman Foundation. These organizations seek entry into the academy—and presumably the intellectual legitimation that it provides—by establishing programs, professorships, and conferences in both Jewish studies and Israel studies at North American universities. The Tikvah Fund, for example, funds centers devoted to Jewish law (at New York University) and Jewish thought (at Princeton). It also created and subsidizes the Jewish Review of Books, in which scholars (some of whom are associated with other Tikvah programs) air personal grievances, review one another’s books, and trash those with whom they disagree. Tikvah even sponsors a book series, the Library of Jewish Ideas, at Princeton University Press, in which, as a colleague of mine remarked in a recent review, “faith-based sermons and empirically anchored scholarship” commingle uncomfortably. Like Tikvah more generally, the books in this series have no qualms about articulating authentic Jewish ideas and, especially in the inaugural book, these ideas not surprisingly tend to be constructed as religiously Orthodox and politically conservative. We should be ashamed that we have allowed foundations that push a particular vision of what Judaism is or should be to operate within the administrative structures of universities. None of these foundations, despite appeals to the contrary, are interested in funding scholarship simply for its own sake. The unfortunate result is that Jewish studies, rather than liberating itself from its ideological heritage, has re-embraced it. Is there hope for the future? Well, to be honest, I’m worried. I’m worried about the ield’s self-imposed insularity and, often, our collective unwillingness to connect what we work on to work in relevant cognate ields, like religious studies and history. I’m worried that not enough non-Jews are in or entering the ield. I’m worried that well-funded and ideologically charged foundations are deining the questions we ask. What young scholar I AM DISHEARTENED to wouldn’t want a break from a heavy teaching load to spend a fully paid year in Manhattan or Princeton? But rather than end on a pessimistic note, I would like to encourage my colleagues in Jewish studies to think about the history and problems of the ield. The AJS turns 45 this year, and its leadership might consider a collective rethinking of how we arrived where we are. Is there a role for non-Jewish scholars in the ield? How can they be better accommodated without feeling more alienated? This, of course, would also mean rethinking the methodological and theoretical insularity of the ield. Finally, what is to be done about the inluence of private foundations, several of which have been or continue to be institutional members in the association? Jewish studies stands at a crossroad. It can go down the path of ethnic politics, the path on which a scholar seeks funding from the private foundation that is most closely aligned with the scholar’s views of Judaism and Jewish values. Or it can become a ield of research that checks politics, identity or otherwise, at the door. Jewish studies, rather than liberating itself from its ideological heritage, has re-embraced it. Aaron W. Hughes is a professor of Jewish studies at the University of Rochester. He is the author, most recently, of The Study of Judaism: Authenticity, Identity, Scholarship (State University of New York Press, 2013). He is working on an intellectual biography of Jacob Neusner. THE CHRONICLE REVIEW B5