In bodily autonomy part one, I explored a tension: Jewish tradition supports abortion access, but it does not embrace bodily autonomy. And yet, I believe bodily autonomy is a Jewish value.

So how can both things be true?

I think the answer begins with a bigger question: Who gets to decide what counts as Jewish?

My belief that bodily autonomy is a Jewish value does not come directly from the Torah or the Talmud. These are, after all, the same texts and rabbinic traditions that do not view women as equal to men.

But my Judaism — dare I say, our Judaism — is both different and the same. Being a Jew in the modern world doesn’t require us to choose between inheriting our tradition and evolving it. The act of wrestling with what we have inherited is itself deeply Jewish, and we are not the first generation of Jews to encounter new ideas about the world and ask what they demand of our Judaism.

Our ancient rabbis inherited the Torah and interpreted it for their world. Generations after them did the same, encountering philosophy, science, reason, democracy, feminism, civil rights and more — all the while, continuing to ask what Judaism demanded of these revolutionary ideas. Through all that change runs a consistent Jewish project: grappling with what it means to build a just society. 

My dad has long shared a teaching he learned from his teacher, Rabbi Larry Hoffman. I’m paraphrasing, but the idea is this: our task is not simply to ask what the rabbis of generations past did. It is to ask what they might do if they were here today, encountering the modern world we encounter, possessing the knowledge we possess, and grappling with the moral questions before us.

Judaism teaches that we all stood equally at Sinai to receive Torah. Revelation wasn’t reserved only for the Jewish leaders who appear in our ancient texts or history books. We were there, too. 

In order for us to call something Jewish, we do not have to prove it was articulated precisely as we understand it today by a rabbi who lived 1,500 years ago — or has a different perspective — in order to call it Jewish.

We are not merely inheritors of the Jewish story. We are its authors, too.

We stand on the shoulders of generations who argued, questioned and interpreted before us. We inherit the links they forged in this extraordinary chain of tradition and add our own.

We inherit a Judaism deeply committed to human dignity and the pursuit of justice. Our task is to ask what those enduring commitments demand of us today: a Judaism that trusts people to make decisions about their own bodies, lives and futures, and that never stops wrestling with itself in pursuit of a more just world for all people.

We are in the Hebrew month of Elul, in which we prepare for a new Jewish year, a fitting time to reflect on the Judaism — and the world — we are helping to shape. Read on for ways to put our values — our Jewish values — into action.