This means that (cup half-empty) individuality is truly supreme in American religious life and that we are witnessing a kind of "tipping point" away from traditional spiritual affiliation. Or (cup half-full) we are celebrating the role that individual choice, globalization and porous boundaries now play in one of civilization's oldest practices: religion.

Which God you worship and how you do it matters less from the perspective of where you grew up and depends at this stage more on how you feel and what you think on a continuum of expression and experience over the course of your lifetime. "And," to quote Al Franken's famous Stuart Smalley character, "That's okay."

Writing as a rabbi who's deeply invested in the preservation of an ancient, rich and evolving Jewish tradition, I admit to fearing that too much choice and indivuation in relationship to God, ethics and Jewish morality will simply wear away at the endurability of tradition.

On the other hand, the adaptability of Jewish culture to every civilization we have ever encountered and lived among over nearly 4000 years is great testimony to the necessity for navigating boundaries with a principled flexibility. Being able to move in and out of cultures and traditions is arguably, the very DNA of ethnic and religious Jewish life. And is, in the final analysis, an important component to our survival. Had we remained the same, never adapted, resisted opening up our own borders to those who moved across previously unchartered waters, we would have ossified and become extinct.

So in historical and philosophical terms, such movement is unavoidable and possibly worth the risk.

In practical terms it means a couple things.

One, as a rabbi, I'm ever-aware of how I'm translating Judaism to potential seekers--to that percentage that may actually choose us. Jews marry non-Jews at a nearly 50% rate. For some, this represents a potential dilution of Jewish culture and tradition. For others, this is a mandate for making sure that rabbis and synagogue communities are poised to articulate what is eternal and beautiful and rewarding about practicing Judaism. Given that one-fourth of our population changes its faith, this represents a statistic that can unify interfaith families under one faith and encourage the practice of a newly shared tradition.

Two, I must also be conscious of those born Jews who may be exploring other faiths. I want to both "welcome the stranger" (the Torah's language) and keep my fellow Jew close (there are, after all, so few of us!)

It means being aware of and conversant in other faith traditions; knowledgeable about the choices out there; literate in the ideas and philosophies of other traditions that people are seeking. Jewish history has many examples of the hybridization of ideas, which over time, become mainstream. The more I am personally aware of rationalist, mystical, meditative, or ecstatic traditions, the more I am able to respond in an informed way to what my fellow Jew may be seeking. Maybe I can't satisfy him or her as a rabbi; but there may be another who can.

And that's okay.

Especially because we decry the increased influence of individuality, I take the principled stance of: It's not about me.

One's religious life is about one's relationship to the Divine: sublime and yes, individual. Judaism recognizes both the collective body of Peoplehood and the principle derived from Genesis that each person is made in the "image of God." Our goal must be to always hold those views in equal balance to one another.

In other words, we're on the Paths we're on. My job, in awe and humility, is to help that restless 25% of you get to where you're going.