Let me begin by saying that I love Limmud. I support Limmud here in New Orleans, and I think it’s a great thing.
It is not, however, the salvation of the Jewish people. David Hazony seems to disagree however:
What if something came along that threatened to permanently dislodge the federations and foundations, with their fetes and fiscal décolletage, as the bookends holding up our sense of collective self, and put the core of Jewish identity back where it was always meant to be — in direct engagement with content?
I’m talking about Limmud.
Apparently, Limmud is the solution to the problem of declining Jewish life in the Diaspora. Somehow, the two or three or four days of learning will revolutionize Jewish life. Actually, Hazony knows why:
There are a few unstated principles that make Limmud glow. One is that the mind and the spirit, the body and the soul, are one. Social, religious and intellectual stimuli are mixed inseparably.
Honestly, I am not even sure what that means. But whatever it means, Hazony likes it:
In addition to the classes going on, there is a cavernous, cacophonous central commons filled with hundreds of chairs and tables and couches for the never-ending conversations that Limmud triggers. During the day, coffee and cookies and live jazz flow freely. At night, beer on tap and harder stuff transform it into an English pub.
Oh, I see. It’s about Jewish conversations and music and alcohol. Why didn’t every Jewish organization in the world think of that? Nobody’s ever tried that before! But wait, there’s more:
Second, your place of work does not appear on your nametag. Neither do markers of formal hierarchy of knowledge, like “professor” and “rabbi.” This is because Limmud’s conceivers have realized that by developing a deferential rather than a creative atmosphere, such titles can encourage other people to plead ignorance rather than cure it by taking their learning into their own hands.
Right. So no one knows more than anyone else, less we be “deferential” to those who might, you know, but experts at something. This is, I think, rather hogwashy, to use a term I just made up, since you know, there’s no one to tell me I can’t. The point is, a good teacher can make a class feel open for discussion without relinquishing the possibility that he or she knows more than the students, and has something to teach them. On the other hand, it doesn’t take a professor, rabbi or cantor to be condescending and pretentious. Those qualities can be found even without “your place of work” appearing on your name tag.
Finally, Hazony loves the non-professionalism of the whole experience:
And the third, and perhaps most beguiling, principle: There are almost no professional Limmudniks. While the international Limmud body’s paid staff is minimal, the volunteers run the conference almost exclusively.
Here I think he has a point, but it’s hardly revolutionary. Volunteers are the backbone of any well-run Jewish organization, and they are critical to its success. It’s true that costs can be kept down, which is great, but it’s hard to run something totally as a volunteer endeavor. Also, there’s nothing wrong with professionals. Really. It’s not some terrible thing to pay people to help build and develop Jewish life. Heck, that might even be a priority, the sort of thing we want to pay for. The sort of thing a Jewish community should be happy to support.
My biggest problem with this article though, is that it ignores the many Jews who don’t live in London, New York, or L.A. Yes, New Orleans has a Limmud, but there is simply no way Limmud could ever be a sustainable “identity.” It’s one and a half days long, once every two years. If Limmud is your identity, well, I’d say that’s not going to save the Jewish people. It may be that in places like L.A. and New York this marvelous Limmud spirit could morph into something lasting and regular, but in smaller places, I think communities are going to find they need things like professionals, and infrastructure, and even…gasp…experts, to help things along. There is nothing wrong with working, in a professional capacity, for the betterment and education of the Jewish people. We might even want to say it’s admirable. If, as Hazony predicts, this revolution of Limmud is intent on making that choice seem ridiculous, then, as a greater man than I once said, “don’t you know that you can count me out.”
