How one publisher revolutionized American Judaism

When the news came, it was like learning of the death of an old, trusted friend.

Last week, it was announced that Turner Publishing Company would be acquiring Jewish Lights Publishing, as well as the other imprints associated with its parent company, LongHill Partners — SkyLight Paths, Christian Journeys, and Gemstone Press  (www.jewishlights.com, www.skylightpaths.com, www.christianjourneysbooks.com, www.gemstonepress.com).

(Full disclosure: almost all of this author’s books have been published by Jewish Lights).

Jewish Lights was not simply a Jewish publishing company. Such companies have come and gone. Some have disappeared because of the vicissitudes of Jewish history; gone are the Jewish publishing houses of Amsterdam, Livorno, Warsaw, and Vilna. Others disappeared because of the vagaries of the publishing industry itself — Jason Aronson, the URJ Press, and the venerable Schocken house is no longer independent.

Stuart Matlins started Jewish Lights at a challenging time in American Jewish cultural history. It was the early 1990s. Fewer mainstream publishers were publishing Jewish books. University presses were charging hefty prices for their offerings.

While many of Jewish Lights’ books were of significant intellectual heft, that was almost beside the point. Stuart wanted to demonstrate that the intellectual world of Judaism could actually help the reader have a richer and deeper life. Jewish Lights essentially invented the genre of modern Jewish spiritual literature – and as such, revolutionized contemporary Judaism.

More than that: In a Jewish world that hardly needed another denomination, Stuart Matlins created a new one – “Jewish Lights Judaism.” A Judaism of intellectual depth. A Judaism of playful engagement with Jewish sources. A Judaism that takes itself seriously, though not solemnly. A Judaism that was willing to be creative. A Judaism that used Jewish sources to make the world better. A Judaism that would taught Jews that their similarities were richer than their differences – even though those differences were also holy.

Consider: Jewish Lights was not the first Jewish publishing house to publish books on Jewish mysticism.

But, it was the first Jewish publishing house to show why such a literature should even matter in the first place. By publishing books by such writers as Lawrence Kushner, Art Green, and Daniel Matt, Jewish Lights redeemed Jewish mysticism from what could have been its fate – pure obscurantism, or, even worse, New Age pap.

Jewish Lights was the first Jewish publishing house to recognize the spiritual longings of Jews who were confronting addiction. This gave way to an entire “cottage industry” of books on recovery – most notably, by Kerry Olitzky and Mark Borovitz.

Jewish Lights was the first Jewish publishing house to realize that the current state of bar/bat mitzvah posed a deep spiritual challenge and opportunity to today’s Jews. I am eternally grateful, therefore, that Jewish Lights published my own books on how to retrieve and transform the meaning of bar and bat mitzvah in America.

Jewish Lights was the first Jewish publishing house to realize that many contemporary Jews were simply clueless about worship. And so, it pioneered the art of worship transformation by publishing the first modern prayer book commentary series and commentaries on the High Holy Day literature, edited by Lawrence Hoffman. In addition, Jewish Lights published numerous resources on congregational life and transformation, realizing that Jewish life could not be lived merely in the realm of letters, but in board rooms, classrooms, and sanctuaries.

And, finally, Jewish Lights understood that children and their parents had spiritual needs and questions, and therefore embarked on the ambitious project of presenting intelligent and sensitive Jewish children's books.

That Jewish Lights produced so many titles – dayeinu. But it did so beautifully. Each volume was visually appealing. Those books grabbed the potential reader by his or her lapels. They were books that you wanted lying around your living room.

Ultimately, it all goes back to Stuart and Antoinette Matlins. Stuart proved that a publisher did not have to locate himself or herself in New York or Los Angeles; he was more than content doing his thing from the pristine, almost Eden-like environment of Woodstock, Vermont.

More than this: Stuart didn't just live in the world of words. He knew that those words would be meaningless, and ultimately empty, without action. Matlins was a leader in American Jewish life. He served on the board of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion. He was the driving force behind his synagogue, Congregation Shir Shalom, the Woodstock Area Jewish Community.

And, even more than this: Stuart was not only my publisher. He was and remains my close advisor, mentor, teacher, and friend. You would not be reading this if it weren’t for him. Stuart helped me find my true rabbinic and literary voice.

As Ecclesiastes wrote, millennia ago: “Of making books there is no end.”

But, as for the future of Jewish books, and of all books: yes, I worry.

I worry, because book stores – certainly smaller, independent bookstores — are going out of business.

I worry, because I often visit homes that have empty shelves where books used to be.

I worry, because prayer leaders are abandoning printed texts and relying on visual prayer, televised on the walls.  Yes, it is efficient and often attractive, but it no longer allows the worshiper to pray at his or her own pace, and perhaps even get lost within the words on the pages themselves.

I worry, because I sense that synagogue libraries are shrinking, with fewer people using them.

I worry, because a Twitter-dominated world of communication means that wisdom will be locked into a prison of 140 characters, which will mean the death of depth.

When the Romans tortured and killed the sage Hananiah ben Teradion, they tied him to a stake, bound by a Torah scroll. They set the scroll on fire.

As Hananiah was dying, his students asked him: “Our teacher, what do you see?”

His reply: “The parchment is burning, but the letters are returning to heaven.”

One modern faith centers itself on the story of a man being resurrected; our faith knows something different – that the words, themselves, are eternal.

May there always be a place for those words, and may those words always find their places on our shelves, and in our hearts and souls.

Rabbi Jeffrey K. Salkin is the senior rabbi of Temple Solel in Hollywood, Florida. A noted writer and commentator, his books on Jewish life have been published by Jewish Lights Publishing and the Jewish Publication Society.