What Does It Imply? How Does It Apply?: Holiday Editorials in The Reconstructionist, 1935–1955

Abstract

Mordecai Kaplan founded The Reconstructionist to popularize his thought and to show its relevance to issues then facing American Jews. Accordingly, each issue of the magazine opened with a series of editorials in which current events were analyzed from the standpoint of Reconstructionism. This article examines those pieces that appeared before, during, or immediately after the Jewish holidays and generally sought to uncover a festival's relevance to secular life. Editorials of this nature were especially prevalent in the magazine's first twenty years of publication, and the pieces respond to the major events of the day: the rise of Nazism and fascism, World War Two, McCarthyism, and the founding of the State of Israel. They provide a concise picture of Kaplan's social vision and illustrate the interpretive process that he believed was necessary to render Judaism relevant to the modern age. A brief history of The Reconstructionist is included.

The publication of Mordecai Kaplan's Judaism as a Civilization in May of 1934 was a turning point for the dissemination of Reconstructionist thought. Although many of its ideas had been aired previously in journal articles,¹ the book presented the first complete exposition of its author's views. Community centers and synagogues organized discussions of the book, and Kaplan received numerous requests to lecture on its contents. Later that year, Kaplan and Ira Eisenstein—his son-in-law and assistant rabbi of The Society for the Advancement of Judaism (SAJ)²—decided to publish a journal devoted to the Reconstuctionist viewpoint.³ The first issue of The Reconstructionist appeared on January 11, 1935.

Testimonies of people involved in the early years of the journal indicate that it was founded to serve two interrelated purposes. First, to review contemporary events from the standpoint of Reconstructionism, a purpose emphasized by the journal's name.⁴ This would demonstrate Reconstructionism's relevance to current issues, make clear the practical implications of Kaplan's thought, and render it accessible to "people who are too busy or too impatient to follow the intricacies of elaborate philosophical discussion."⁵ Fittingly, the lead editorial of the inaugural issue summarized Kaplan's ideological position.⁶

Second, and perhaps most important, The Reconstructionist was founded to motivate the implementation of Reconstructionism in American Jewish life. Reflecting on the journal's first four months of publication, the editors made clear that they hoped "to challenge the complacency of our people with Jewish things as they are." Although the magazine had a small subscription base—only 1,000 copies of each issue were distributed in the first year, including free copies given to all members of the SAJ⁷—many of the readers were communal leaders. They could "constitute the vanguard of the forces of reconstruction" by forming "Reconstructionist Clubs" that would discuss the contents of the magazine and plan "how their fellow Jews can be made to feel the impact of The Reconstructionist's philosophy and program." It is not clear whether clubs of this nature actually emerged in the 1930s,⁸ but The Reconstructionist did influence the thought of many Jews, including those who created the first Reconstructionist congregations in the 1950s and the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College in 1968.⁹

The Reconstructionist's editorials were central to the realization of both of the magazine's goals, and approximately four of its original 16 pages¹⁰ were devoted to them.¹¹ Since the magazine appeared bi-monthly, editorials could truly respond to events and issues as they emerged.¹² The editorial line was formulated collectively by the Editorial Board, which consisted primarily of Reform and Conservative rabbis and of educators sympathetic to Kaplan's view.¹³ Discussions could be long, intense and heated, but a consensus generally emerged. The editorial was then assigned for writing to the board member with the greatest expertise in the subject addressed. If one or two editors dissented, they were encouraged to publish their views in an article or a signed letter. Issues on which no significant majority emerged were dropped.¹⁴

Editorials published in The Reconstructionist addressed a wide range of subjects.¹⁵ This paper concerns itself solely with those pieces that appeared immediately before, during, or after the Jewish holidays and generally sought to uncover a festival's relevance to secular life. Approximately 45 editorials of this nature appeared between 1935 and 1955,¹⁶ and they were particularly common during World War Two.¹⁷ These pieces are interesting in and of themselves but are especially significant for providing a vivid picture of the interpretive process that Kaplan believed was necessary for Judaism to be relevant to the modern age.

Kaplan lamented the fact that most Jews saw no connection between their Jewish identity and the challenges that they faced every day. They lived in two separate worlds: "a modern week-day world of business and pleasure-seeking which is uninfluenced in any conscious way by Jewish tradition, and a Sabbath-and-holy-day-world permeated with memories of the remote past and hopes for the distant future, but segregated from the activities and interests of a work-a-day world."¹⁸ This type of Judaism was unsustainable in light of the assimilative pressures of modernity and was fundamentally undesirable. For just as religion must relate to the real world to maintain its vibrancy, humanity needs the inspiration and insight of the past to live morally and to face contemporary challenges with faith and intelligence. Kaplan critiqued Jewish theologians for responding to this need by "abstracting Jewish religious ideas from the context of the civilization in which they functioned."¹⁹ Ideals presented in this manner are easily distorted and risk becoming "a way of speaking rather than a way of living."²⁰ The only constructive approach to making Judaism relevant to the modern age was to uncover the practical implications of specific religious observances.

Kaplan believed that the Jewish festival cycle was the best place to start this process and devoted his third book, The Meaning of God in Modern Jewish Religion (1937), to this task. While the majority of Jews had distanced themselves from many of Judaism's daily observances, the holidays were still held sacred—in some sense—by all streams. "They still stir in the heart of the Jew emotions which awaken in him his love for his people and his feeling of identification with them in the pursuit of certain ideal ends."²¹ Indeed, the Sabbath and festivals reflect the core ideals, hopes, and strivings of the Jewish people. In uncovering their lasting meanings and relating them to contemporary life, Judaism's message for the modern age is revealed. Kaplan believed that Jews needed to hear this message and feared the consequences of failing to undertake this interpretive process. Holidays perceived as devoid of contemporary relevance would not retain their hold for long. If Jews ceased celebrating the holidays little would be left of traditional Jewish observance.²² On a more personal level, published excerpts from Kaplan's early diaries make clear that he felt emotionally connected to Jewish culture yet experienced much of it as barren of obvious relevance and that this pained him considerably.²³ All told, it is not surprising that many of the editorials in The Reconstructionist mined the holidays for contemporary meaning.

Our analysis of the editorials organizes them around the historical realities they address. A certain measure of thematic overlap exists between editorials discussed under each heading, however, since the editors bring to each piece a remarkably similar social vision.

Nazism, Fascism, World War II

Responding in 1941 to a letter published in the New York Times criticizing preachers who devote their sermons to the war, the editors of The Reconstructionist provide the rationale for their own magazine's concentration on the war effort.

It must be recognized that religion does not exist in a vacuum. It is not something apart from daily life, but very much a part of it. Unless it is related to those problems that try men's souls and those anxieties that wrack their nerves, religion is about as influential in our lives as our knowledge of how many angels can dance on the point of a needle would be. And today the thought uppermost in all men's minds is the war and its immediate bearing on their lives, their plans, their hopes, and their aspirations.²⁴

A major concern of the editorials published between 1938 and 1942 is the search for a message in the Jewish festivals that can bolster morale in light of the horrible fate of European Jewry and the global despair fostered by Hitler's early victories. Kaplan believed that religion's most important function was "to serve as an antidote to the harm that evil in the world might do to our personalities."²⁵ Accordingly, in the words of an 1938 editorial, unless festivals such as Passover "can bring some measure of solace, encouragement or guidance to the Jewish people that today finds itself again in bondage in most parts of the world, we may as well not rehearse the ancient tale."²⁶

The editors of the magazine did not believe in a supernatural God who could bring deliverance. Instead, they sought comfort in certain historical truths which they understood to ultimately reflect divine law. The Passover editorial of 1938 sees the Bible as implying that the hardening of Pharaoh's heart was integral to his downfall. From this we should learn that "tyranny writes its own doom" by consistently overreaching itself, and that this reflects God's will. Although we cannot know "how long the Hitlers and Mussolinis will prevail," their defeat is inevitable. "One does not have to believe in miracles to hold fast to this faith."²⁷ Two years later, the editors assert that even though "victory has gone almost continuously to the forces of darkness" and we fear that all our cherished values might be engulfed, the "verdict of history" is that "no final suppression of man's freedom has ever been attained. The oppressor . . . must in the end falter on the brink of victory. . . . The world is so constituted that tyranny can't endure." The "heightened sense of history" afforded by Rosh Hashanah should encourage Jews to "behold the present in proper perspective."²⁸

Writing during the High Holidays of 1938, the editors acknowledge that Jews who engage in the stock-taking of the high holiday season cannot help but be disheartened by the picture that emerges. Three responses are possible: despair (there is no God, there is no cosmic law), optimism despite prevailing conditions (a Messiah will come), and optimism because of prevailing conditions. Only the third possibility is constructive and tenable for modern Jews who reject supernaturalism. It sees the current catastrophe as testimony to the operation of divine law in the world. The violation of this law has caused the current predicament and reminds us that the world is so constituted that "a peace built on vengeance and hate cannot endure; it breeds Hitlers and their ugly entourage. An economic order, predatory and heartless, breeds violence and unrest." Recognizing the existence of this law fosters hope by pointing the way to ultimate deliverance. "We may expect paradise on earth once we are determined to obey that Law."²⁹ Although this may be true, it is unlikely that readers faced with the consequences of the rise of "Hitlers and their ugly entourage" found much immediate comfort in this insight.

In the Purim story, Jewish survival depends on the goodwill of one monarch; the Jews have no allies in their quest for deliverance. Writing immediately after the Purim of 1938, the editors argue that Jews are in a much better position in their current battle against oppression. The Nazis justify their attack by associating Jews with the values they consider corrupt: democracy, intellectualism, freedom, and equality. Accordingly, Jewish suffering is not the pain "of an anonymous people at the hands of an irrational and brutally barbarous nation," but "the gigantic and significant clash of conflicting philosophies." In this battle the Jews can count on the support of all who hold these values dear. "Let only those who despair of life itself despair of our future."³⁰ A tragically naïve belief in light of subsequent historical developments.

Further on Purim, the editors believe that the Jewish people's historical ability to celebrate the festival wholeheartedly in the face of hardship points to an inner strength that contemporary Jews must recover if they are to withstand the current difficulties. Three sources for this inner strength are suggested. In 1940, the editors conclude that the Jews saw in the "momentary hilarity" of the festival a taste of the great joy that they will experience in the messianic era. Their faith in God's redemption enabled them to rejoice in the present. In our age, Zionists have no trouble delighting in Purim as they have a modernized version of this faith. Our mental health, say the editors, demands that we tap into a similar faith.³¹ The following year, the editors suggest that the Jews' ability to laugh during Purim stemmed from a deep appreciation of their culture, its rituals, books, heroes, and high morality. For "so long as the whole of a man's existence seems worthwhile, the discomfits of his body and spirit, large and acute as they may be, are only incidents in an otherwise meaningful whole." Reconstructionism is essential to Jewish morale, for it "seeks to restore for Jews the value of Jewish life."³² This argument clearly reflects the American reality of the editors where the "discomfits of body and spirit" were relatively minor during the war years.

The 1942 editorial argues that Jews celebrated Purim with "great gusto" because they understood the story to be one episode in the continuing clash between themselves and Amalek, and they rejoiced in being on the side of positive values. The key to lifting contemporary Jewish spirits is to realize that Hitler is a modern permutation of Amalek. His philosophy is based on "the Nietzchean doctrine of the survival of the most powerful, the most cunning, the most destructive," and he resents the Jews who represent internationalism, human rights and freedoms, humanity as made in the image of God. The suffering which now permeates the world "will truly become a privilege when men know what it connotes; and Jews, above all, will embrace their Judaism with unwonted joy when they realize why they have been chosen to be the chief sufferers."³³ Although Jews could, indeed, take pride in their moral inheritance, the publication of the first news of Hitler's Final Solution in November 1942 rendered such arguments absurd.

The editors believed that the world's hardships were a direct outcome of the existing political and economic order and understood the holidays as pointing the way to the needed reconstruction. Writing immediately after Passover 1936, they state that the most remarkable fact about the Exodus story is that Moses moved quickly from the role of redeemer to that of law giver. This teaches that there can be no real freedom without social justice (law). People who are oppressed attack the existing order, and the ruling class responds by restricting the freedom to dissent. This is the reason for the rise of contemporary fascism in Europe. Accordingly, to secure democracy against tyranny it is necessary to put forth a progressive package of social legislation that protects the weak, abolishes child labor, provides adequate unemployment insurance and old-age pensions, institutes a minimum wage and maximum profit scales, and "ultimately socializ[es] all wealth and liquidat[es] class distinctions flowing from the ownership of property."³⁴

Similarly, during Sukkot 1943, the editors suggest that the association of the Sukkah with peace indicates that peace is unattainable without economic equality. If this war is to culminate in a lasting peace, it must "give the coup de grace to the era of self-seeking materialistic individualism." The refusal to compromise the American standard of living so that other nations can be lifted from poverty is "a menace to peace." The forced rationing of the war period has taught us to divide the necessities of life according to human need and not purchasing power, and the income tax has served to redistribute wealth more equitably. We must build upon these social gains after the war, "if we are not to repeat the mistakes that have brought it upon us." "The 'tabernacle of peace' must be reared on the moral foundation of freedom, equality, and fraternal cooperation among men."³⁵

The connection between freedom, peace, and socially constructive legislation is explored to different ends in the Shavuot editorial of 1946. The editors note that the allied victory has not brought a true sense of peace and that people speak openly of a probable third world war. Contrary to the implications of Christian theology, love will never bring world peace, for love is an emotion that is directed towards those who are close to us, physically and spiritually, while the world is culturally diverse and spread out geographically. To attain peace in international relations, "we require, therefore, some means of impelling men and nations to act justly toward those for whom they have no personal affection, whose interests may be opposed to their own and whom they may actually dislike." The current UN is ineffectual in this regard and must be transformed into a true world government with the legal means to enforce global order. The celebration of Shavuot affords an opportunity to reaffirm the importance of translating social ideals into law. "Shavuot calls all free men to work for the establishment of the legal instruments which alone can create world peace."³⁶

As indicated above, the editors of The Reconstructionist believed that America's war against the Axis powers was not being fought to exact vengeance, to defend economic interests, or even primarily to protect America physically. The war was fundamentally about values, about the defense of freedom, widely conceived.³⁷ The Hanukah editorial of 1940 suggests that, in this sense, the current war can be seen as analogous to the Maccabean insurrection against the Syrian Greeks. Then, as now, people of spiritual motives have joined forces with those whose fundamental interest is to attain or enhance state power, yet the war is publicly justified by all on moral grounds. The social visionaries of the Maccabean era capitalized on the idealistic discourse of their era to renew the people's commitment to social betterment; a commitment that was later translated into concrete forms in rabbinic Judaism.³⁸ "If all of the suffering of our generation is not to be in vain, those who are genuinely idealistic and pure of motive shall do as the Hasidim and the Pharisees centuries ago. They must capitalize on the heightened idealism; yes, even on the pretended idealism of the present hour, and seek to translate it into social regeneration."³⁹

As the war progressed and the allies scored their first victories, the editors saw worrying signs that the hoped for social revolution would not materialize in the United States. The innovations of the New Deal were under constant attack, and opposition was mounting against income tax legislation that limited the amount of money that could be earned by the nation's most wealthy.⁴⁰ Writing during Hanukah 1942, the editors remind readers that the Maccabees celebrated their first victories by rededicating the Temple, and suggest that in doing so they demonstrated their continued commitment to the Torah values of "justice, compassion and brotherhood" for which they were fighting. Americans must learn from this example and not use our military successes to return to the "status quo ante, to that specious 'normalcy' in which all the abnormal horrors of recent decades have germinated," but to rededicate ourselves to the battle for real freedom rooted in social equality. "Let the Hanukah candles symbolize our faith in the light of a humane civilization and our determination to shield and feed that light."⁴¹

The same sentiment motivates the Passover editorial of 1944. Here, the tone is more emphatic, however, as the authors fear that mistaken notions of freedom will not only undermine the chances of attaining a lasting peace but jeopardize the continuing war effort itself. The editors draw a historical parallel between Korah's challenge of Moses' right to lead (Numbers 16) and current attempts to limit the President's power to regulate the war economy. In both cases, freedom is invoked to release people from externally imposed restrictions; both suffer from an erroneous view of freedom that sees it as an end in itself rather than as a means of attaining a better life. Individual rights that undermine the fight against fascism do not enhance liberty but threaten it. Economic measures that "hinder the achievement of a just, secure and peaceful social order after the war . . . are being used against and not for the purposes which freedom must serve."⁴² Writing the following Passover, the editors invoke the memories of fallen soldiers to plead that we use the festival to rededicate ourselves to making their sacrifice truly meaningful by insuring that this war ends in redemption and not just liberation. "For redemption is more than liberation. . . . Redemption is liberation plus the purpose to dedicate freedom to the enhancement of human life, the improvement of human society, the advancement of truth, beauty and love in this world."⁴³

Post-war Global Reality (1948–1955)

By 1948, it was evident to the editors of The Reconstructionist that the destruction wrought by the war was, indeed, not leading to greater international cooperation and a more just economic order. Surveying global and national politics on the threshold of the Jewish new year, they note many of the developments that were to occupy editorials throughout the early 1950s: the growing East-West divide, fear of the atomic bomb, the ineffectiveness of the United Nations, the questionable global alliances forged by the United States in defense of democracy, and the encroachment of personal freedoms in the name of weeding out communism.⁴⁴ The editors' response to these developments is somewhat similar to the approach taken to World War II. They seek to bolster morale while motivating readers to respond to the world in a way that will, in time, bring lasting deliverance.

Many editorials from this period refer to the somber mood pervading America and the world. The Passover editorial of 1950, for example, speaks of mankind as "in bondage to fear." A catastrophic atomic war looms on the horizon and people feel powerless to stop it, as if "moved by a remote control outside [our] own will in directions not determined by [our] own interests."⁴⁵ This reality renders the message of Passover especially significant, for Passover teaches that redemption is possible.⁴⁶ Naturally embedded in humanity is a will to freedom that is "mightier than the power of Pharaoh and all his hosts, because the will to freedom is divine; it is God's will." Accordingly, "No amount of bondage will succeed permanently in barring man's way to greater freedom."⁴⁷ Three years later, the editors argue that the founding of the State of Israel and the ingathering of the exiles testifies to the power of humanity to attain the previously unimaginable when acting in communion with the divine-given urge to freedom.⁴⁸ Americans can draw additional comfort from the fact that they live in a democracy where, with all its flaws, the voice of citizens still has the power to change government direction.⁴⁹

For change to come, people must act. The Passover editorials of 1950 and 1953 remind readers that they are "God's partners in the creation of the free world." As such, "it is not enough merely to express in ritual our trust in the redemptive power of God. We must testify to our faith by utilizing all the resources and opportunities at our disposal to pursue freedom for ourselves and for others."⁵⁰ The festivals provide an ideal opportunity to consider the socio-political realities of the world and to commit ourselves to the work that needs to be done. Passover, for example, should serve as a time of "heshbon hofesh, of stocktaking as to freedom and its state,"⁵¹ while the introspection of the High Holidays should be used to judge whether our deeds are strengthening or weakening the cause of democracy.⁵²

Surveying global reality in this vein during Rosh Hashanah of 1951 and 1954, the editors conclude that the ongoing military rearmament, though justified, must be matched with a "moral rearmament." Internationally, Americans must strive to raise the standard of living of the disadvantaged millions. They must foster democracy and not just work to contain communism. America's failure to address world poverty undermines its chances of limiting Russian influence since communism thrives in an atmosphere of social discontent. The government's support of various undemocratic regimes because of their anti-Russian policy weakens our "spiritual prestige"—our ability to argue the justice of our cause, to present ourselves as a force of good.⁵³ The editors are particularly incensed that Nazi war crimes are no longer discussed for fear of complicating America's current alliance with West Germany. Writing at Purim 1949, they urge Americans to learn the lesson of Judaism's injunction to remember the actions of Amalek: recalling the evils of the past helps us assure that they never recur.⁵⁴

Domestically, the editors see the actions of Senator Joseph McCarthy as the primary challenge to freedom and democracy. The 1953 Passover editorial notes that "the fear of communist subversion has been converted into a veritable hysteria by patrioteers who utilize that fear as an occasion for trampling on the democratic rights and liberties of their fellow citizens."⁵⁵ In 1952, the editors lament that "our country is being weakened by those who sow distrust among its citizens, who are ready to condemn on mere suspicion . . . who for fear of 'subversion,' threaten to subvert those cherished liberties which have been the strength of our American democracy."⁵⁶

Jews should respond by drawing on the faith in the ultimate triumph of the good engendered by the Exodus story to avoid being swept into this tide of anti-communist hysteria, to have the courage to "speak freely and honestly what we believe to be true,"⁵⁷ to not tolerate "the abuse of legislative committees," and to not, "by our passivity, suffer America to be converted into the police state that communist propaganda pretends it already is."⁵⁸ The editors' dislike of McCarthy was so strong that the 1954 Passover editorial speaks of him as a modern-day Pharaoh and sees the growing backlash against his methods as a further sign of the truth that all tyrants inevitably write their doom by overreaching themselves.⁵⁹ Readers are warned, however, to not view McCarthy's apparent retreat as indicating that victory has been won. Like the Pharaoh of old who chased the Israelites to the shores of the Reed Sea after setting them free, McCarthy may still attempt a comeback. Accordingly, "lovers of freedom will be vigilant. . . . They will demand the full exposure of McCarthyism. . . . Each generation must deal thoroughly and conclusively with its Pharaoh."⁶⁰

Yishuv/State of Israel

Mordecai Kaplan embraced Zionism early in his career, and his approach was significantly influenced by Achad Ha-Am (Asher Ginsburg) who envisioned the creation in Zion of a Jewish cultural center.⁶¹ Full state power was not essential to the flourishing of such a center, and The Reconstructionist did not originally advocate the creation of a Jewish state in Palestine, but spoke ambiguously of "the establishment of a cooperative commonwealth" that "would enable Jewish civilization so to root itself in the soil of Palestine as to make of the land the cultural center for Israel's intellectual and spiritual rebirth."⁶²

The magazine's first Hanukah editorial makes clear that this hesitance to call for a Jewish state was motivated, in part, by disappointment in the realities of the nation-state. According to the editors, the Jews revolted against the Syrian Greeks to protect their religion and culture. Consequently, most ceased fighting once the Temple was cleansed and rededicated. Some, however, were not "content with the freedom to live and worship as Jews" and "embarked upon an imperialist campaign." Tradition, however, "never thanked them for these exploits. . . . The traditional story of Hanukah always ends with the rededication of the Temple." Why? Because the rabbis associated statehood with the Romans who were "predatory and violent." In their eyes, the later Hasmoneans "had merely aped the Romans. What they wanted was sheer power, and the luxury that power commanded." States were not vehicles for "ethicizing human life" but for exploiting the individual and thus not worthy of celebration. For Hanukah to be meaningful in our day, say the editors, it must reemphasize Judaism's historical rejection of "that form of human organization which seeks power for rulers and not self-fulfillment for the people who constitute it." As such, we should be wary of Jews who use the Hasmonean struggle to justify "the establishment in Palestine of state power." Their goal is not to increase freedom but "to ape the predatory states of the world as once Rome was aped. Posterity will not thank us if we permit them to succeed."⁶³

In the five years immediately following the termination of World War Two, the editors frequently used their Hanukah editorials to address issues of concern to Zionist policy. Writing in 1945,⁶⁴ the authors note that Jewish life is precarious throughout the world. Europe's remaining Jews are struggling to rebuild in the face of recurrent antisemitic outbreaks, anti-Jewish activity has increased in the United States, Jews are being attacked all over the Arab world, and the British government's Palestine policy is a "provocation." Although Hanukah has traditionally been celebrated as a time of rededication to religious values, to "satisfy the needs of our day" the festival must become a symbol of the power of national resistance. "Let the Maccabees teach us to resist all down the line—to resist the illegal regulations barring Jews from entering their homeland. . . . Let Hanukah teach us that freedom must be won from the wicked, if need be even by the use of physical force." The editors insist that they are not counseling a "Jewish war," but they have unmistakably endorsed the use of force under certain circumstances.

Ironically, Hanukah 1946, finds the editors arguing against those Jews who have chosen to resist England's Palestine policy by attacking British troops and interests. To justify this armed resistance by drawing inspiration from the Maccabean revolt is wrongheaded since the historical realities are not analogous. For example, while the Syrian Greek presence in the land of Israel was clearly an act of aggression, the British rule Palestine through a Mandate granted by the League of Nations. This Mandate was established to prepare the territory for the eventual transfer of sovereignty to the Jews. Accordingly, we can protest British policy by appealing to the world's conscience in a way that was unavailable to the Maccabees. Moreover, an analysis of the Hasmonean dynasty illustrates the negative effects of attaining sovereignty through force. "The habit of violence" engendered by the war led to continuous infighting which ultimately caused the state to fall victim to Rome. As such, even if our revolt succeeds—"a most fantastic assumption"—we emerge as losers. We must continue to defy the unjust British immigration quotas and work unceasingly to make our case heard in the world's corridors of power. "But let us not be trapped into resorting to that insane kind of terror which depraves us and at the same time degrades our cause in the eyes of the world. Let us not forget that Hanukah also means rededication to the religious ideals of our tradition, and that among those ideals is faith in the power of the word and the spirit to move mountains and even to move the hearts of men."⁶⁵ Remarkably, the failure of the allies to protect the Jews of Europe during the war does not seem to have at all undermined the editors' faith in these ideals.

The Reconstructionist endorsed wholeheartedly the decision of the General Council of the World Zionist Organization to create a Jewish state when the British surrender their Mandate on May 15, 1948.⁶⁶ The Rosh Hashanah editorial of that year refers to the founding of the state "as a miracle of history, a great vindication of faith in the power of an idea."⁶⁷ The editors remained, however, wary of the dangers of statehood. Writing during Hanukah 1950, they see in Israeli society a troubling "delight in the display of [state] trappings," especially the army. While the Maccabees ascribed their successes to the divine power that sustained them (gevurot adonai), the modern Israeli Hanukah hymn, Mi Yemallel, speaks only of the people's might (gevurot yisrael). The editors restate their belief that the rabbis rejected the actions of the later Hasmoneans and deliberately emphasized the rededication of the Temple over the military victories. Indeed, "the glorification of martial valor and national prestige and power are alien to the Jewish spiritual tradition." Hanukah admonishes us to "regard the state and the forces necessary to defend it as means, not ends." Its observance should help us recall traditional Jewish values which view "the state primarily as a means to achieving social justice and individual freedom and security, and upon even defensive warfare as, at best, a necessary evil." As we have seen, this social vision permeates many of the magazine's editorials.

Conclusion

Comparing The Reconstructionist's holiday editorials to Kaplan's The Meaning of God in Modern Jewish Religion is instructive. Most of the editorials' central ideas are in the book: the connection between freedom and ethics (p. 216), the need for a new economic order (p. 223), the belief that tyranny inevitably self-destructs (pp. 293–294), that humanity and God are partners in the perfection of the world (pp. 295–296), that ideals must be translated into law (pp. 315–316), that attaining a good life requires living in conformity with laws programmed into the universe (pp. 324–325), that Hanukah does not celebrate a military victory (p. 330), that Jews should wear the badge of internationalism with pride (pp. 365–366), and that seeing meaning in the tradition makes antisemitism easier to withstand (p. 367). The book's treatment of these points, however, is written in a less accessible language, and the text rarely refers to specific issues currently before the American public. Kaplan and Eisenstein rightly beheld the need to popularize Reconstructionist ideals and apply them to contemporary issues, and the editorials are clearly successful in this regard.

It is impossible to assess whether the editorials furthered the magazine's second expressed goal: to motivate the implementation of Reconstructionism. It is interesting to note, however, that although many of the pieces put forth a specific social vision and program, the demands made on readers are fairly tame. At best, they are implored to support specific legislation; the editorials never advocate taking issues to the streets, never end with an announcement of a petition or a congressional writing campaign organized by the magazine.⁶⁸ This forms an interesting contrast with the methodology of today's activist rabbis, Arthur Waskow, Michael Lerner, Avi Weiss and others. This is perhaps a product of the fact that, as Mel Scult has shown, Kaplan was more of a man of letters than a man of action.⁶⁹ It might also reflect the different realities of the time. Demonstrating one's distaste of Joseph McCarthy in the public arena, for example, entailed considerable risk, and Reconstructionism had very few institutional resources to draw upon. Either way, by not organizing practical expressions of social activism the editors undermined their ability to influence public life.

In a diary entry from December 1931, Kaplan asserted that he asked two questions of any idea or statement found in the tradition: "What does it imply? How does it apply?"⁷⁰ This foreshadows his later assertion that to "revitalize[e] the spiritual values of the past" one must "analyze or break up the traditional values into their implications, and single out for acceptance those implications which can help us meet our own moral and spiritual needs."⁷¹ The Reconstructionist's holiday editorials make clear that this is a very subjective process. Kaplan and his co-editors bring to each issue discussed a clear social vision and interpret the festivals in a manner which reinforces this vision. As the many editorials dealing with the contemporary relevance of Hanukah illustrate, they are quick to dismiss as wrongheaded any interpretations that lead in an opposite direction. Kaplan understood that he was advocating a subjective process, but believed that we needed to engage the tradition in this manner if it was to encourage us to act boldly and morally in the world. Under the leadership of Ira Eisenstein, however, the Editorial Board took a more cautious stance. Indeed, the Hanukah editorial of 1968 asserts that a nation's defining moments and central texts "cannot—and must not be made to—offer specific guidance; for they lend themselves often to mutually contradictory policies." At best, the materials of the past can "help to reaffirm the broad ideals of a people."⁷²

My study of Reconstructionist prayerbooks found that the current movement leadership seeks to make the tradition relevant to congregants by emphasizing its ability to contribute positively to personal well-being and wholeness.⁷³ Kaplan's insistence that religion help us deal with evil shows that he, too, was concerned with the psychological well-being of individuals and believed that Judaism had much to contribute to this. For Kaplan and his co-editors, inner peace resulted from deep faith in the world's inherent goodness and its ability to support creativity and freedom. The ultimate goal of attaining inner peace, however, was not to attain personal happiness but to render one more likely to serve as God's partner in the perfection of the world. Today, when our culture's intense focus on the self risks deflecting attention from social activism, The Reconstructionist's editorials serve as a positive model of an integrated spirituality. Indeed, since many of the issues they discuss continue to challenge us—for example, the connection between economic hardship and destabalizing world views—their study is, in itself, rewarding. Although Eisenstein's cautionary note is well taken, linking Jewish observance and text to contemporary concerns is essential if activist Jews are to speak in a uniquely Jewish voice, can lead to increased interest in Jewish study and ritual practice, helps bridge the gap between observance and secular life, and may, in fact, motivate social activism and political engagement.