One Torah, Many Voices: How Jews Glorify G-D Through Diverse Traditions

by Ram ben Ze’ev

One Torah, Many Voices: How Jews Glorify G-D Through Diverse Traditions

Among the many wonders of the Jewish people is the rich diversity with which we serve G-D. From the ornate melodies of Moroccan piyyutim (פיוטים – liturgical poems) to the reserved cadence of Lithuanian yeshivot (ישיבות – Torah academies), from the flowing tzitzit (ציצית – fringes) of Yemenite Jews to the deep guttural pronunciations of Iraqi Torah readers—our people are not uniform, but we are united.

This diversity often surprises those unfamiliar with Judaism. Many assume there is a single way to be a Jew. But within our one Torah (תורה), we find room for the many customs and traditions passed down by our ancestors. These are not deviations; they are expressions—different harmonies within the same eternal song.

We do not speak here of movements that deny the divinity or permanence of Torah min haShamayim (תורה מן השמים – Torah from Heaven), such as the so-called Reform or Conservative paths. Those discussions relate to acceptance or rejection of the binding nature of mitzvot (מצוות – commandments). Instead, we turn to Jews who, while faithfully clinging to the Torah, differ in how they dress, how and when they pray, what blessings they say, and the customs surrounding holy days and daily practice.

Consider the Ashkenazi and Sephardi traditions. An Ashkenazi Jew may begin his morning prayers with Modeh Ani (מודה אני – I give thanks), wrap his tefillin (תפילין – phylacteries) in a specific sequence, and recite Shemoneh Esrei (שמונה עשרה – the central prayer) with certain insertions during the winter. A Sephardi Jew may also begin his day with gratitude, but recite different opening verses, follow a different order in tefillin, and pronounce blessings in a way that reflects his ancestral tongue—perhaps in a melody that echoes Andalusian roots.

Yemenite Jews have preserved linguistic pronunciations and halakhic nuances that predate even the Babylonian academies. Karaite Jews, who follow the written Torah without rabbinic interpretation, still honour Shabbat (שבת), keep kashrut (כשרות – dietary laws), and face Jerusalem in prayer—but differ in rituals, such as observing Yom Kippur (יום הכיפורים) according to a solar-lunar reckoning of their own tradition.

And yet, we all turn toward the same Makom Kadosh (מקום קדוש – holy place), Jerusalem. We all recite Shema Yisrael (שמע ישראל – Hear O Israel), affirming that G-D is One. We all remember Yetziat Mitsrayim (יציאת מצרים – the Exodus from Egypt), sanctify the seventh day, and wait for the Geulah (גאולה – redemption).

Many years ago, I asked my Rabbi a question about blessings. We were at a communal meal, and I wanted to know whether one blessing over a main item sufficed for the other foods, or whether we should make separate berakhot (ברכות – blessings). My Rabbi smiled and said, “As long as we’re debating how to praise G-D, we’re safe.”

It stayed with me. His meaning was clear: when our praise is sincere and directed to G-D, He does not rebuke us for its form or frequency—only that it be genuine. Our debate was not about rejecting a commandment, but about how to honour Him more fully.

As it says in Tehillim (תהילים – Psalms) 50:8-9, “I censure you not for your sacrifices, and your burnt offerings, made to Me daily.” And later, in verse 23: “He who sacrifices a thank offering honours Me, and to him who improves his way I will show the salvation of G-D.”

This is the essence: not the particular melody or sequence, not the regional variations in garments or food customs—but that we do it for Him.

We must be vigilant never to allow custom to replace essence, nor to let pride in tradition lead to scorn of another’s. The moment we elevate the form over the purpose, we risk turning praise into performance. But when we direct all our customs to the service of HaShem (השם – the Name), then even our disagreements become elevated, because they arise from love and longing to glorify our Creator.

We are not divided. We are a tapestry—woven from different threads, but bound by one Torah.

And so, whether a Jew comes to shul (שול – synagogue) with a Turkish kippah (כיפה – skullcap), a Polish bekeshe (בֶּקֶשֶע – long coat), a Libyan accent, or a Persian prayer book, as long as his heart turns to Avinu Shebashamayim (אבינו שבשמים – our Father in Heaven), then the offering is accepted.

Let us then never forget: the greatest berakhah (ברכה – blessing) is not sameness, but sincerity. The greatest praise is not uniformity, but unity. And the greatest honour to G-D is that we strive—each in our way—to make His name great in the world.

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Bill White (Ram ben Ze'ev) is CEO of WireNews Limited, Mayside Partners Limited, MEADHANAN Agency, Kestrel Assets Limited, SpudsToGo Limited and Executive Director of Hebrew Synagogue