He details in length and with passion the entire episode and at the last second he declares that the angel calls out “Abraham, Abraham! What’s the matter? Can’t you take a joke?”

And didn’t Hillel once say that Judaism is all about not doing to others that you would not want to be done to you?

Collective memory? I don’t know; I would rather call it common descency. And rituals? well, that’s like supporting your football club.

In regard to there being a Creator, Woody Allen has explored that to the fullest.

Even within the Jewish tradition alone, there are many ideas as to what God is, and what belief entails, ranging from rationalist to mystical. Judaism is much less prescriptive regarding what one should believe, than in regards to how to act.

From my point of view, this is a great advantage for Judaism: it means that there is a great deal of freedom of thought and conscience which means that individuals can hold different ideas of God within the same tradition but also means that a person can develop different ideas of God throughout their lifetime. At least in theory, this freedom should also be a good facilitator for the development of ideas about God.

But in our community the name we acquire is based on our perceived contribution to the community in which we live – not on statements of belief. The article does not advocate the abandonment of faith, rather it tries to explore the complexity and diversity of our engagement with religion.

Collective memory is not a series of factual recollections of our history. It is an all embracing collective process that turns an infant born to Jewish parents, into a Jew in a Jewish community with an awareness of all the preceding generations. In that process, the unique individuality of each person dominates their interaction with the community and how they contribute to the generations that follow.

There are a couple of stories that influenced my thoughts about the issue of religion, collective memory and God. One of them is about the greatest apikoris in the world and a maskil who wanted to learn at his feet. The other is a story by I.L Peretz, “Oyb Nit Hekher” (If Not Higher),  which, I am told came from an earlier chasidic story (I got this version from http://www.myjewishlearning.com/culture/2/Literature/
Yiddish_and_Ladino/European_Writing/IL_Peretz.shtml):

This is the story of a Litvak–a skeptical Lithuania Jew–who is determined to disprove the fervent belief of the Hasidim of Nemirov that their charismatic rebbe ascends to heaven during the Ten Days of Penitence to plead with God on their behalf. Sneaking into the Nemirov rabbi’s room one night and hiding under his bed, the Litvak sees the rabbi arising before dawn, dressing himself in peasant clothes and going into the woods. There the rabbi chops up a tree with an axe and takes the bundle of wood to the broken-down shack of a sick, old woman. Pretending to be Vasil, a peasant, he brings the wood inside and proceeds to make a fire in the oven. And as he puts each stick of wood into the oven, he recites a part of the day’s selichos or penitential prayers. After witnessing this anonymous act of charity, the Litvak becomes a disciple of the rabbi, and thereafter, whenever he hears a Hasid mention that during the Ten Days of Penitence the rabbi of Nemirov goes up to heaven, the Litvak adds quietly, “if not higher.”