Peter Kane

Conservative Judaism and a Third Way

Why a Third Way?

Born out of a transformative 19th century and the inevitable tension that followed, Conservative Judaism sought a path between two poles. On the one end of the spectrum, the rigidity of traditional Orthodoxy and its insular roots, and on the other, the radicalism of Reform Judaism as a means to assimilate into a modern European society.

This “third way” is grounded in Zecharias Frankel’s philosophy of Positive-Historical Judaism. While law and ritual remain binding, their interpretation evolves in a dialogue between the realities of contemporary life, the Jewish people, and their rabbis.

As a convert, Conservative Judaism creates a deeply rooted connection to the generations, practices, and beliefs of the Jewish people, while also providing for a Jewish life that can flourish in the modern world.

Vive la Révolution

The origins of Jewish emancipation in Europe are traced to revolution. In 1790 and 1791, France became the first modern state to grant Jews full citizenship, followed by a restructuring of the European societal framework by Napoleon Bonaparte’s wave of conquest. Although, as with most structural change, this was a double-edged sword. While early emancipation opened new opportunities for Jews – both economic and political – it also reformed the protective, albeit restrictive, closed societies represented by the ghettos.

In truth, Bonaparte’s own motives were multi-pronged: Creating a citizenry of equals regardless of religious practice can be considered a noble endeavor, yet, as he told his physician, an added benefit would be the inevitable riches that would come by more Jews choosing to immigrate to France.

Backlash was immediate, and many states would roll back Jewish rights after Napoleon’s fall, but the wheels of history were in motion. Over the century to follow, Britain, the Netherlands, Belgium, Italy, the German states, and Austria-Hungary would all see Jewish emancipation come to fruition.

Zecharias Frankel and the 19th-Century Context

While emancipation across Western and Central Europe was a major milestone in Jewish history, it also led to fractures within the community. While Orthodoxy insisted on strict fidelity to inherited practices, the Reform movement embraced Enlightenment values, often abandoning ritual altogether as part of a deep assimilation into their newly adopted European cultures.

By the mid-1840s, this tension between Orthodox and Reform had fully come to a head. In his writings about the state of Judaism during the mid-19th century, Zecharias Frankel captured these dualities of existence:

“The viewpoint of the Orthodox party is clear. It has grown up in pious activity; to it the performance of precepts is inseparable from faith, for to it, the two are closely and inwardly connected. Were it to tear itself away from observance and give up the precepts, then it would find itself estranged from its own self and feel as though plunged into an abyss.

“Against this party there has arisen of late another one [Reform] which finds its aim in the opposite direction. This party sees salivation in overcoming the past, in carrying progress to the limit, in rejecting religious forms and returning merely to the simple original ideas.”

To Frankel, there had to be a third party of Judaism that practiced what he termed Positive-Historical Judaism. His thesis was simple. Historically, Judaism has always evolved and adapted over time, although not radically. Despite this change, it is divinely guided and covenantal, maintaining a positive stance on tradition. Critically, it’s a religion of action, lived through the mitzvot, ritual, and community rather than as an abstract philosophy. Changes can gain legitimacy only when rooted in communal life, not solely imposed by scholars.

He argued that interpretation had always been a part of Jewish life, and that those interpretations, while changing the literal meaning of scripture, addressed life activities of the time. The result: “Judaism achieved stabilization and avoided estrangement from the conditions of the time in various periods.”

His example was inspired. When it was declared that “An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand” should not be taken literally (Megillat Taanit, Ch. 4), it represented not just a humanitarian triumph, but established “the principle that the letter of the law is not decisive, but rather that the spirit must animate the law and raise it to the divine status worthy to become a norm to man who is himself endowed with spirit.” Transforming from physical harm – a literal eye for an eye – to financial compensation preserved Torah’s spirit while adapting law to the time’s ethical reality.

American Flashpoints: The Urgency of a “Third Way”

By the late 19th century, the polarization between Reform and Orthodoxy sharpened in the United States. No moment better reflects that tension than The Trefa Banquet in 1883. While who was behind the wildly controversial deviation from kashurt during that seminal dinner remains unknown, it marks a flashpoint in the direction of Judaism in America. Two years later, that schism would be codified in The Pittsburg Platform of 1885, with Reform rabbis rejecting traditional practice, dismissing kashrut, ritual purity, Zionism, and messianic belief.

Yet, for many American Jews, while there was no desire to return to the European-style Orthodoxy of their forefathers, the idea of stripping Judaism of its lived rituals and communal obligations was anathema. These two events underscored the need for a “Third Way” – a middle, moderate way – committed to Jewish law and practice, while able to engage with the liberal, modern realities of American society.

The Jewish Theological Seminary was founded in 1886 by rabbis Dr. Sabato Morais and Dr. H. Pereira Mendes as a counter to the Reform movement and its 1885 Pittsburg Platform. Its mission: preserve the historical knowledge and practice of Judaism. With an initial class of 10 students studying in the vestry of the Spanish-Portuguese Synagogue in New York in 1887, it would go on to become the flagship institution of the Conservative movement.

In 1901, the Rabbinical Assembly was founded as the alumni association of the JTS, followed in 1913 by Rabbi Dr. Solomon Schecter’s founding of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism (USCJ), thus cementing the Conservative movement’s footprint in the United States, and globally.

Mid-20th Century Innovations and Late 20th Century Changes and Challenges

Throughout the 20th Century, Conservative Judaism expanded rapidly, becoming the largest denomination in the United States. It adopted practices aligned to its mission of tradition and change, for example the permission to drive to synagogue on Shabbat, which acknowledged the suburban reality of American Jews as they moved out of close-knit city communities. While raising questions around halakhic consistency, it enabled synagogue attendance of a physically shifting population.

Conservative Judaism became the American “middle ground” committed to Halakhah, yet flexible enough to adapt to the contemporary realities of American Jews living a democratic life.

Later, the Conservative Movement would take on topics that included ordaining women rabbis (i.e., egalitarianism made official) in the 1980s and updating prayerbooks to introduce more gender-neutral language and adding the matriarchs alongside the patriarchs in the Amidah in the 1990s. In 1992, Rabbi Elliott Dorff made the argument that homosexuality is innate (you are who you were made as) and thus not subject to prohibition, sparking a debate that would last 15 years when, in 2006 the Committee on Jewish Law and Standards (CJLS) adopted three conflicting opinions on the subject, and when in 2007 the JTS admitted openly gay rabbinical students. That the CJLS endorsed multiple, conflicting Teshuvot cannot be lost, as it represents a striking example of Conservative Judaism’s pluralism.

Conservative Judaism membership has substantially declined from its apex in the 1950s and 1960s. According to a 2021 Pew Research study, while 25% of adults who were currently Jewish or raised that way said they were brought up Conservative, only 15% identified that way at the time. In other words, “For every person who has joined Conservative Judaism, nearly three people who were raised in the Conservative movement have left it.” Explanations are plenty, ranging from higher intermarriage rates among American Jews, Reform Judaism’s acceptance of patrilineal descent, to simple geographic mobility to the Southern and Western United States with fewer Conservative synagogues.

However, numbers don’t necessarily mean vitality. Among younger Jews who consider themselves Conservative, there is often more ideological commitment. Additionally, the movement has built a robust network of formal education, represented by 50,000 Conservative day school students in the United States and the 75 Solomon Schechter Schools. While a smaller movement today, this more committed and observant core is poised to sustain Conservative Judaism.

The Principles of Conservative Judaism

Positive-historical Judaism is thriving in today’s Conservative movement, its principles centering on tradition and change. In other words: Conserve Judaism. According to the Statement of Principles of Conservative Judaism (compiled by members of institutions from across the movement in 1990), three characteristics mark the ideal Conservative Jew:

“First, he or she is a willing Jew, whose life echoes the dictum, “Nothing human or Jewish is alien to me.”
“The second mark of the ideal Conservative Jew is that he or she is a learning Jew.”
“Finally, the ideal Conservative Jew is a striving Jew.”

How these characteristics are lived directly result from the principles, which underline my desire to become Jewish.

What Conservative Judaism Means to Me: To Be an American Jew

I was brought to Conservative Judaism through my wife, who would say she grew up “Conservadox.” Her family, all of whom came to America in the first half of the 20th century, and many of whom survived the horrors of the Holocaust (and whose brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers perished, may their memory be a blessing), were on their own spectrum: From extremely Orthodox to what was Conservative (whether realizing it at the time or not). Thus, she was raised within that context and with those principles, and when it came time to find our own synagogue, a Conservative synagogue made the most sense.

But, as a Jew by Choice, I need to make my own decisions. By starting with the aforementioned principles, I wanted to find a connection between my beliefs and values and those of what makes an ideal Conservative Jew. Not necessarily to check every box – Conservative Judaism is pluralistic after all – but to be sure that on principle, and in future practice, I was aligned to the movement I am hoping to become a part of.

To me, the connection couldn’t be clearer. Principle by principle, I found myself saying, “Yes,” and, “Yes.” But as I learned in school, texts are one thing. The contexts in which they are written are another. Which means that while my world view may tightly align with the Conservative movement’s principles, how did they get there? And, as someone reading them in 2025 with my own life experiences, how am I interpreting them?

The story of Conservative Judaism is one of connectivity: Maintaining that relationship with the generations that came before, while creating new relationships in contemporary society. This was particularly apparent when reading Frankel: “This third party, then, declares that Judaism must be saved for all time. It affirms both the divine value and historical basis of Judaism and, therefore, believes that by introducing some changes it may achieve some agreement with the concepts and conditions of the time.” The concept of Judaism as a “religion of action” struck me deeply. And, while one of the principles of the Conservative movement is that change must be gradual and evolutionary, not radical or revolutionary, all I could think about after reading Frankel and other works about the next 180+ years of Conservative Judaism were 10 words: “When in the course of human events it becomes necessary…”

Then, it hit me: For me, Conservative Judaism represents the Judaism that feels most American:
Pluralistic: Democratic and rooted in community
Pragmatic: Adapting to modern realities, egalitarian values, inclusivity, and social justice
Traditional: Faithful to centuries (millennia) of practiced ritual and faith

My family originally came to the American colonies in the late 17th century. Others would follow in the early 18th century, and come to the United States throughout the 19th century, and early 20th. They came from various parts of the United Kingdom, Germany, Ireland, and the Netherlands. Like most immigrants, they held on to their traditions, but adapted to their new, evolving way of life. This is what truly makes America great and it’s why I have an unshakable belief in it despite all the horrible things happening we see on a daily basis.

I look at America now and it’s easy to see only division. Often this is described as “conservative” vs. “progressive”, right vs. left, but that division comes in a lot of flavors. What’s too often missing, but what’s needed now more than ever is a third way that represents those core values, which I believe are those of most people in this country, regardless of when they arrived: A belief in tradition, a pluralistic vision of society, and a willingness to pragmatically adapt. It has always been, and always will be, an unfinished project.

To me, Conservative Judaism is the embodiment of that. And in addition to all the reasons I want to become a Jew by Choice, that’s why I want to become a Conservative Jew by Choice.

Willing, learning, striving. As the Statement of Principles of Conservative Judaism conclude: “Rather than claiming to have found a goal at the end of the road, the ideal Conservative Jew is a traveler walking purposefully towards ‘God’s holy mountain.’”