Synagogues – The Forgotten Spaces of the Jewish Community?

Where, today, does vibrant Jewish life happen? 

=Somewhere in NYC like Romemu/ Lab/Shul? (Please note that this blog does not endorse any particular place of worship - other places of worship are available)

=Limmud? (Oh, sorry folks, nothing else like it, in the world, is in fact available)

=Hartman/Pardes/Drisha/ Hovevei Torah/ Hadar etc or some yeshiva you once went to

=Maybe you’ll reply, it’s simply living in Israel, be that the daily experience of Israeli life, celebrating Yom Haazmaut etc, dancing on Simchat Torah in Jerusalem or maybe some summer (or all year round) fun in Tel Aviv?

=Around a Shabbat table?

=In Bnei Brak or Jerusalem?

=In shul (synagogue)?

‘Sorry Jason, did you say, “In shul”?’ Are you insane? Have you actually been to my local shul lately? I share your surprise that your local shul might be considered a place of vibrant Judaism, but hear me out.

Let me start with an analogy for what I wish to say in the next few paragraphs. Let me tell you about a problem I once had, that just didn’t seem to go away. Maybe you’ve suffered from this affliction as well? You worried about it. Maybe told your friends about it. Maybe you even felt a bit panicky about it. But one day, almost as if by magic, you noticed that you hadn’t actually thought about that problem, that was once so big, for a while. The problem was still there but you had moved on. By now you’d given up thinking about addressing that dull achy feeling. You told yourself, in a not entirely convincing tone, that it would eventually be okay and in fact inactivity would be just fine.

I think our synagogues are sometimes a bit like that for Anglo Jewry. We all know there’s a problem somewhere. We’ve been to them, we've seen some close down for lack of members and that’s even in areas with sizable Jewish populations. We may have read about reports relating to demographics, changes in denominational affiliations, birth rates, or changes in religious attitudes. That voice in our head says that something needs to change. Yet like a ship which views itself impervious to the whims or storms of contemporary society, most shuls remain the same, business as usual. 

I think that maybe we no longer know what to really do about this building, this institution which we nostalgically call ‘shul’. We assume we need them. In fact we actually have several denominational organisations which more or less survive only because of the shuls which support them. In other words, as a community we are so invested in the existence of these institutions, that we no longer openly question their relevance, despite that inner voice which sometimes does so. 

Here’s a crazy thought to ponder - What if we started everything from scratch? How would we arrange our communities? What would you more automatically consider as good ways to facilitate your individual needs for spirituality and our communal need to have an arena for communal life? Would you build a large sanctuary, classrooms and offices? Would you create a management culture consisting of a board of management, rabbis, admin staff, some teachers, and maybe a friendly youth worker? Is that what 21^st century Judaism requires or just ‘what we do’?

I think that somewhere, as a community, we have forgotten to ask why Synagogues today still matter.

My orthodox friends go to shul. Of course they do and often three times a day. Orthodox Jews attend shul out a sense of obligation from an external command. Prayer said with the community, with a minyan, a quorum of ten, is superior to prayer said alone and God accepts it more willingly. Also, whether orthodox or progressive, shuls are a focus of communal life, particularly for those blessed with young children. It’s where your friends go and it’s where your children’s friends go to both play and pray. 

I personally feel no external obligation upon me to pray either regularly or with a set liturgy and I also do not have a family. Why, you ask, should synagogues matter to me? But they do. Why they matter is the subject for another discussion, on another occasion. Let it be enough, for now, for you to hear of my frustrations. I can’t find a shul which truly speaks to my unique spiritual needs and I also don’t think I’m alone. In the words of a well known personal development guru, “The more personal your problem feels, the more universally felt it really is”. So, if you are anything like me, then just like me, you too want your shul experience to ‘talk’ to you personally.

Why go to Shul?

For my parents’ generation, to which I will also include anyone who is above the age of about 60, things were slightly different. For the post-war, baby-boomer generation, you went to shul because, well, that’s what you did. On a Shabbat morning you went to shul and of course you went to the Kiddush (post service reception). You also sent your children to cheder, perhaps joined the synagogue ladies’ guild or shul cricket club and went to the odd quiz supper in support of Israel or Soviet Jewry. Perhaps the baby-boomer generation went to shul out of guilt or to fulfill the expectations of their parents, or perhaps a simple piety pointed to Shabbat shul attendance as the main way to serve God. Jewish involvement in the post war years had only one real public yard stick by which it was measured. That public yardstick was attendance of synagogue on Shabbat morning. It mattered not whether you ate non-‘heckshered’ (lacking a Kosher label) food, sat learning talmud day and night, or put Tephillin on daily.  Only those who were there at Shul Shabbat morning were worthy of being referred to by the community as regular shul goers and therefore observant Jews. 

However today, I, at least, view and measure Jewish identity very differently. Today, I, like many of my contemporaries, see little reason to go to shul. It’s not stimulating and not much fun and even at times quite unwelcoming. We, today, also see less value in ‘being seen’ by others, as observant. I view myself as very Jewish, and that’s without stepping across a synagogue threshold even on a semi-regular basis. For Jews today, our view of what it means to be Jewish, to have a strong Jewish identity, has expanded. 

Unlike my parents’ generation, how I decide to spend my time is often decided in terms of the value I get from what I do. Religious activities are no different in this regard. Those too are weighed up and evaluated just like any other activity that demands my time and effort. I live in a marketplace and I am a consumer. If the gym doesn’t give me value for money, if the machines or classes don’t work for me, then I leave and go elsewhere. I cancel my membership. So too when it comes to engaging in religion and spirituality - If shul is long, doesn’t address my needs, if I’m ignored at the kiddush and the community feels unfriendly, I have no compelling reason or sense of obligation to stay there. Why should I remain in a place that doesn’t address my needs or treats me as I would like to be treated? I should stay because my parents expect it? Out of guilt that if I stop attending the synagogue, it will eventually have to close its doors?

If shul is not enjoyable, not relevant and doesn’t answer my spiritual or social needs, why should I go? I have better ways to spend my time. This is how I think and this is, without doubt, how many Jews today think as well. Yet have you ever asked a shul board member or your local rabbi why unaffiliated or unobservant Jews on the periphery don’t show up? Most will look nervously at their shoes, unsure how to respond. If the Shul board is comprised of members of the baby-boomer generation, then their conception of how people relate to synagogues will be a generation out of date. The old guard who run shuls don’t fully get that I and perhaps you, contemporary Jews, need to be approached differently. If they did, shuls would be populated by more and more of the under 40s. Young unaffiliated Jews view the world very differently and therefore want their synagogues to be different too.

I want change. I want young Jews becoming members of synagogues and not because shul membership is the only way to ensure you get buried or get married (it’s not, by the way). I want shuls to engage in a truly meaningful way with today’s Jews. To be quite honest, just like the shul board, I also do not claim to have all the answers as to why today’s uncommitted Jews don’t want to attend the old shul model. The difference is that I want synagogues to be different from how they are now.

I think that as a community, we have almost resigned ourselves to shuls not addressing the needs of unaffiliated or non-inner circle shul goers in a real meaningful way. Shuls are run by the regulars for the regulars. Those running shuls are often too invested in the old model of doing things to consider real change to even be an option. It is assumed that the one size on offer, should indeed fit all. This assumption is maintained despite the fact that for many shuls, most members only come on the high holy days. The assumption is often that the people who don’t come are those in need of changing, whilst the shul model on offer, that should remain constant.

Has Anglo Jewry given up on shul as a valuable asset to invest our best and brightest? Well, as with many areas of life, an answer can be found by ‘following the money’. Who is funding what in our community?

The Jewish press can be a good snapshot of what we value and give our communal attention. Though not scientific, I would suggest that a clue may be found should you open the Jewish press on the week immediately following the London marathon. Just stop and ask a marathon runner (after they have finished the race obviously) and you will see what the Jewish community really wants to support. We want to raise money for worthy causes like World Jewish Relief, Norwood and Kisharon. Would you ever consider for a moment running the London marathon to support your local synagogue? Yeah, right! 

We don’t think of supporting shuls because shuls aren’t sexy or cool. They also often don’t do stuff we truly value, and they waste funds on expensive building projects and anyways, don’t we pay enough in our shul bills, already? I would like to suggest that we don’t think about them or want to give to them because, deep down we truly no longer ‘get them’ or see why they are still relevant to us personally, as individuals. 

We take shuls for granted. We see them (and often the rabbi, by extension) as something necessary, but we can’t quite put our finger on why they are in fact necessary. If we don’t really see why we need shuls, then that might therefore explain exactly the reason why no one invests in them to even attempt to make them sexy or cool.

When JW3, a building project costing 13 million pounds (total costs said to be a whopping 50 million pounds), opened, there were whispers and murmurs about the great extravagance of the cost – a great expense, especially in a time of austerity. But of course, it wasn’t your money or my money being spent was it? In fact I’ll admit that I was quite excited. It gave me a fuzzy feeling of Jewish pride that such expense was being spent on Jewish culture, my culture. The flyers and branding looked sophisticated and the taglines well written. So I, at least, put those negative thoughts aside. I assumed that those in charge, by dint of being in charge, knew something I didn’t. I assumed that, through prophecy or some hidden knowledge or virtue, which vast wealth gives you, the donors knew that in twenty years our Jewish community would look back on the expense as an investment, dividends paid back in positive change. Yet, stop a minute. What if that same money and let’s call it 50 million, had been spent on a fancyspancy shul made of glass in the Finchley Road? Money spent on a space dedicated to religion and spirituality rather than Israeli theatre and Krav Maga classes. The reaction, I’m sure, would have been raised above mere whispers. I’m sure that there would have been open arguments in the Jewish press over such investment in a shul. The question is, why?

I’ll be honest with you. If my shul looked like JW3, I’d show up. This is not me, dear reader, being superficial. It’s about dignifying what synagogues do and recognizing the importance of their role in Jewish life. Unfortunately, in our capitalist, consumer society, money spent, often points to the values, we, as a society, hold. So, you want to invest in meaningful, vibrant, Jewish life? Spend your money where you believe Jewish life will truly be created. 

I believe that real vibrant Jewish life starts with synagogues. A shul built today, to answer the needs of my generation, needs to be more than mediocre. A shul for the 21^st century needs to be state of the art. I don’t mean here what it looks like either. A building whose architecture reflects the value we give it, would be wonderful, of course. But really I mean that it needs to be state of the art in terms of what goes on inside. Form is nothing without meaningful content. The Judaism on offer needs to speak to 21^st century Jews, speaking to our needs, desires and concerns. Would 50 million cover that? Well, the High Holy Days services I go to and love (Grassroots Jews) takes place pop-up style in a garden and is overflowing with contemporary, personal and eternal meaning and all on a low low budget. 

Invest in anything that speaks to 21^st century Jews in a real way and you might be surprised that the expense is less than you had thought. We all love sleek, intelligent design concepts, but today’s Jews want state of the art substance and depth which speaks personally to their concerns, anxieties and desires, more than fancy form that tries too hard to impress. 

I do not believe that Jewish community is created by anything other than – Jewish Community. It sounds circular, but it’s true. Of course Jewish identity is complex and multidimensional but I would suggest that only by creating meaningful Jewish community will we manage to create sustainable, meaningful and real Jewish community. 

Only places like synagogues, or other spaces or places which are conducive to creating community, will ever really create community in a true sense. Everything else is fun and nice, but transient and unsustainable. You may have a 'peak' meaningful experience, but a community was never created unless a community actually came together to create it. There’s me sounding circular again! 

I believe that meaningful Jewish community is created around spiritual actions or ritual activities, done in some way together with others, with the commitment and intention of creating a community. Only community with its sense of purpose, mutual responsibility and belonging, will ultimately create a meaningful and deep, long-lasting Jewish life. Community is not created by events you pay for at a box office or by programming it into existence. 

I hear you already shouting, “What about Limmud? Isn’t Limmud a community but made up of programming?” I agree, Limmud is about programming and for that short time also a community. I would suggest it is a community due to three factors. Firstly at Limmud, we each share the experience with each other,secondly there is a responsibly on both our parts to commit to maintaining that ‘space’ for each other, and thirdly there is a ritualistic aspect to Limmid, if only in that it happens regularly once a year. Limmud is far more than just programming. A sustainable community is also a lot more besides these basic ingredients. I love Limmud and Limmud deserves its own article, as I consider it such a wonderful example of a temporary, though perhaps somewhat utopian, Jewish community.  

Community, real community is about you and me doing things we like together. Community is responsibility for others - your responsibility for me and mine for you, our shared commitment to that creation of community. Real community is about love and about relationships. Real Jewish community is also about another concept that no one these days wants to talk openly about either. Jewish community, of course has to, at some point, in a real adult fashion, discuss God, whatever that mysterious idea might mean.

We already have sacred spaces, hubs purpose built for spirituality, centres for community, and they’re all over the place. We call them synagogues. 

Let’s learn again how to relate to this place of community. Let’s begin to describe together what sacred space and community means for us, modern Jews living in the 21^st century. Join me on this journey.