I Wish My Jewish Experience was Better
I Wish My Jewish Experience was Better
Synagogue has fallen short of what I aspire to of late. In parallel to other churches in America, synagogues have not attracted a lot of secular Jews, people like me fully immersed in the culture of America, prosperous via a blend of education, talent, and acceptance. Whether I fulfill the ritual observances of Judaism or not, its imprint shapes me in part and my country in part. My Torah requires me to respect Gerim, or strangers, that mosaic that comprises America. Yet that command repeats in the scroll more than any other, suggesting either its importance or the high likelihood of non-compliance, also well ingrained in America. I have changed congregational allegiances once before, largely finding myself unwilling to adapt to shabby treatment of vulnerable friends who deserved far better. My discontent now has other underpinnings. I am not treated particularly well, perhaps like Rudolph who could be useful at times when special attributes were needed. Yet I am not treated shabbily, though there are benefits to being a contributor instead of defaulting to consumer. To my best observation, no one else appears identifiably mistreated either. And if somebody were to be declared IT, that person should be me as the least personally vulnerable. Yet I find the experience of being physically present, whether in sanctuary for communal worship or Zoom classroom, best described as meh. A place that values filling schedules appears superior to one that values obedience above all, an attribute which has emerged as the default of most religion and a good deal of modern civics as well. We’ve not chased out members of the wrong political affiliation, lapses in observance, truancy from congregational events, and up to a point, even for being in financial arrears unlike many Christian religious communities. However, universal tolerance, where we excel, does not create universal appeal, where formal financial affiliation and consistency of attendance establish us as laggards. It is not for lack of activities, at least nominal activities. A congregational agenda of worship and classes exists, though enough has not inspired me to reject an assumption that the next experience will also generate those reviled Hebrew School flashbacks.
Sometimes an experiment just comes your way passively, as it did with Covid. For safety reasons, in- person worship was suspended. Our adherence to Orthodox rules kept Zoom for Shabbos and Festivals off limits. So I had a chance to be assigned to the Experimental Arm of not being there, or really more of a crossover from the times I had been there. I rated not being there more favorably. We could do Zoom Hallel or Rosh Chodesh Torah reading, limited by those disquieting memories of Hebrew School where limited parts were carved out to create an experience, usually a false one to anyone who has appreciated the real thing. There are classes but I don’t attend most, an acquired aversion from prior attendance.
It’s not that I don’t value upgrading my knowledge. For years I have read commentaries on the upcoming Parsha as a weekly Thursday task. My correspondence with premier rabbinical scholars derives from my comments or questions on their lectures from yutorah.org. My self-generated assignment of three books per half year mandates a book of Jewish content. Most cycles I complete more than one. All of these involve me and either an electronic or written connection. I access at the times I am ready to learn, irrespective of a timed event. I choose who the expert or author will be. I never have to. Instead, I get to. Perhaps I find myself attracted this element of control. Maybe I am a purchaser of knowledge, a consumer driven by consumer elements such as interest, availability, quality real and anticipated, a perception of a peer cohort of other consumers, packaging in the guise of organizational sponsor. If my synagogue leadership assigns me the role of consumer in lieu of contributor, there is less brand loyalty and more scrutiny of quality and other features of attractiveness. Intersecting announced time, subject, instructor, and my own expectations has not gone well. The Buddha advised his disciples that when their experience conflicted with what they were told, go with their experience. Experience with self-directed learning options of the modern age, good. Experience with Rabbi presentations, not destinations in their own right for consumers, perhaps more so for those with other attachments. Or in the Jewish context, you don’t buy an Israel Bond on Yom Kippur to support your future retirement, you buy stock mutual funds. It is the desire to ally with Israel that generates the financial commitment. Same with religious institutions. Vice Presidents and Committee chairman have a stake in what happens. I’ve been pretty much bypassed long enough that the attachment has broken. I select as a product in completion with other options, including just divesting.
If I don’t get a valid return on effort, what might I expect instead? Drawing on my professional experience, there were a few constants, none duplicated by my current congregational assessment. Senior physicians invariably mentored me. So did previous Rabbis. I miss that perhaps more than anything. My bosses challenged me. If a difficult assignment from night call to giving a presentation needed performance, the responsibility fell to me. Here I sit passively to sermons and watch slides, that difference between teach me something and let me sharpen my ability. When those who assign bimah participation distribute tasks, preference goes to the low hanging fruit, having done it before. Recycle a Bar Mitzvah haftarah for the remaining functional lifetime without ever undertaking a new one. Women’s Torah reading assignments, done months in advance leave the difficult ones to the men. I’ve never been asked to learn Musaf, though experienced at all other parts of leading worship. With recorded nusach readily available, there is no excuse for not advancing people, or to perhaps skewer the Rabbi, insist that we be advanced. And like Elazar ben Arach, that most talented prodigy who never approached his potential for having adapted to what he found easy, I have my element of slouch as that appears as a cultural norm. For a while I used to draw on a new tune or two each time I led Shabbos shacharit. I haven’t in a while. I haven’t prepared in advance in a while. Good enough rules the roost. Excel does not. I hesitate to perform to top ability in violation of the cultural norm. It shouldn’t be the cultural norm.
My workplaces always kept me involved, expressed appreciation at least in the form of a paycheck but usually with some psychic dollars thrown in, and trusted me to do not only the medical tasks but to impart my intellect and experience in a way that advanced the institutions and its mission to patients. At my shul, by now I’ve been largely bypassed, kept external to that USY Clique that I recognize as the essence of institutional Judaism. I have no personal invitations, just broadcasts to join us. Nobody ever asked me what sort of things I like to do because at adds to my own sense of accomplishment, just useful assignments for somebody else. I am not trusted with committees. Then again, if the committee chairmen were each asked whose talent they solicited in the previous year, there wouldn’t be any. Autopilot is OK with systems in place on ascendancy, not OK when those who are used to have their talent exploited, like me, get put on the we’ll tolerate you B-List. Retention is one of the most vital measures of successful leadership. People are glad to be counted, flattered to be asked. We also notice when we are bypassed. It leads to job changes. It leads to disaffiliation. Occasionally to hostility, usually to reduction in institutional reputation, which more often than not is deserved.
My medical relationships empowered me. I was trusted to take call, do the ancillary tasks, serve on committees, invited to meetings where I would not be shy about asking questions or making suggestions. This is the medical culture which has survived considerable bureaucratic assaults but doctors remain essential. At synagogue I am only essential if I am the tenth male. I’m not empowered. to solve any of the congregational challenges. Empowered and Valued are like two ends of the stick, pick up one end and you have the other end too. Or let both ends lie on the ground to get stepped on until they snap, making twice as many ends.
As independent as I may seem, a devotee to Mayor Bloomberg’s advice to my son’s Commencement attendees to seek Independence-Honesty-Accountability-Innovation, I am also a staunch protector of cultural norms that do not create harm. Tribalism, which often results when cultural norms become toxic or transform from a badge of identity to one limiting thought, needs some restraint. Groupishness has its upside traceable to its evolutionary origins. My congregation has done well generating cooperation, altruism, tolerating diversity, and reaching out to the larger community. Those behavioral norms have never been in jeopardy. We also have some destructive ones from defaulting to easiest paths over best paths or not reaching out in a visible way to those who have left us. If they relocated, we understand but if dissatisfied they must be inferior, a deeply ingrained concept in many Jewish agencies. I find myself not very mentally connected, though never denying my affiliation or committing my often deprecatory fast quips about substandard encounters to publication. Less connected usually means less adherent. I do feel a twinge of hostility to some of the more untoward practices like marginalizing prickly people instead of biting a little harder to extract their talent or exclusion by insensitivity rather than targeting. Witches of medieval times were identified by being not very likable people. We don’t get to deep six our troublesome talent, but workarounds to avoid dealing with them have become the cultural norm. It is noticed, with attrition probably the most accurate metric.
Does Jewish assembly have identifiable values? We have a logo, a three-buzzword alliteration that suggests anyone who shows up will find themselves absorbed without question and advanced in their Jewish capacity. But does that define the envelope into which all activities and decisions must fit? Those words with an attractive drawing appear at the top of our letterhead. They don’t appear in discussions of issues as the Board of Governors or conversations with officers sort them out. Indeed, that logo was created as a Brand to create public presence, not as the measure of essential values. And it really hasn’t been. It is the behavior norms, requiring far more than a key phrase, that exposes the values. And to some extent, it is the trajectory of voluntary affiliation, downward for us and for many other religious institutions that presents the best scorecard on how we did, depending on whether keeping score inside or outside the bubble that has defined us.
As church pews remain empty on Sunday mornings, there has been no shortage of Christian pundits, often people who work as consultants to institutions on their decline, creating a You Tube or Web Site presence with advice, sometimes interactive, on achieving reversal. They make an assumption that survival of an institution is better than its extinction, usually true, though there are some that really are dying. They have assets that could nourish ecclesiastical scavengers who can achieve reversal. But usually, the people who still come every week value what they seek. While social media, sleek branding, or other commercial tactics generate traffic, it is the product that generates enduring attachment. For pastors committed to the centrality of Jesus, the consultants invariably being ordained clergy, keeping Jesus central becomes the core of their guidance. Whether to exact thought or behavior discipline, show undesirable people the door, take a political stand, or move from an insular Sunday morning to a more visible communal presence with social responsibilities all comprise how they promote Jesus, which remains at their center, whether functional or counterproductive.
We Jews have not encountered our Savior yet, but our congregations and social agencies have a unified set of principles that make Judaism identifiable while allowing each synagogue its elements of uniqueness. Sidney Schwarz in his anthology Jewish Megatrends distilled four attributes that make a Jewish organization worthy of having loyal, voluntary participants. He identified:
1. Chochma-Wisdom
2. Tzedek-Righteousness
3. Kehillah-Community
4. Kedushah-Holiness
These individually and combined seem as valid a set of metrics as any, as credible a surrogate for centrality of Jesus that our Christian churches strive for. Has my experience been one of wisdom? Different participants have different starting points. One of the great challenges of those required to present to unselected listeners can be the distribution of backgrounds. A medical grand rounds will include senior colleagues of the speaker at one extreme to nurse practitioners at the other, all of whom hope to impart something enduring from their attendance. For some, seating themselves in the auditorium is voluntary, for others not. In self-learning we read the journals we want or explore a topic with citations that we understand or access to experts to guide us through. Rabbinical sermons and classes share this assortment of listeners. I think it wrong to bore the most capable. We raise people to the mitzvot, not dwindle mitzvot to adapt to capacity. The same needs to apply to learning. We’ve all been to college, most have been to Hebrew school. It’s probably OK for my CPA or lawyer to talk to me in baby talk once or twice a year to assure my understanding. It’s a big negative when a doctor or clergyman does that, either in public presentation or response to private inquiry. That’s become my congregational expectation, so consistent that I have to wonder if the capacity of the clergy public and private communication is really already at its maximum level. Not good if it is.
Righteousness sometimes diverges from an ethic of convenience. I definitely think a previous member with a behavioral problem should not have been made to stay in his hot car at our congregational picnic when he served in good faith as chauffer for his disabled brother. There’s a certain amount of Derech Eretz, courtesy, and Seichel, good sense, that needs to be absolute. To our credit it is not egregiously violated often but memorable and hard to reverse or make sincere atonement or restitution when it is. As our affiliation numbers decline, usually without any follow-up, we really have no way of assessing what the psychologists call negative transference reactions, poor interactions with somebody seen as representing the institution.
Sometimes the thought is proper but the execution sloppy. At weekday prayer it is customary for people to drop some coins or small denomination currency into pushkas or charity boxes. At times I would seem one or more overflowing. I asked a few senior people who extracts and distributes these contributions and how often. There was no process. Rabbi’s discretion? List of recipient agencies that rotate? Without accountability and procedures, Tzedek never attains its potential.
Our concept of which synagogue we belong to in some ways defines Kehillah or community, yet is also the most fluid of Rabbi Schwarz’ quadrangle. Our Board, for better or worse, counts Membership Units, rejecting suggestions that a census of individuals would enhance community more effectively. As people relocate or shift allegiance or feel isolated from the cliques, justified or not, the concept of Kehillah becomes as elusive as its measurement. Pay Dues=In rarely makes a community vibrant. Supporting each other at times of need is expected, so only useful when it fails. Supporting each other when there is no pressure to do so may be the best way to identify groups. In evolution, people always united to secure food. They didn’t do as well distributing it equitably when they had it. Synagogues are not Communist States where people take what they need when they need it and chip into the ante when they have surplus. The relationships are more complex. Maybe asking whether people stay because they want to, because there is a pressure to have to, wish they were someplace else, or departed for someplace else or nowhere would give a better picture of how congregations protect and enhance community. So does who the leadership asks to contribute and who the leadership sets a menu to consume what contributors create.
Again, a medical parallel not only exists but is essential for patient care. We do studies on defined populations to understand conditions and remedies but apply them to individuals who have overlap with the studied group but also uniqueness. In an attempt to create a cohesive community, it is easy to forget that it is the sum of individuals, all with particular talents and particular needs. I think many congregations, mine among them, are too quick to classify people by age, gender, perceived wealth, and professional stature, yet too reticent to interview individuals in a way that discloses talents while generating interest. Not really having been asked about what I think about too many things for a very long time, it is easy to get the impression of being bypassed, even marginalized, though that was nobody’s intent. One more form of a culture of pursuing the easy.
Creating or capturing holiness and defining sanctity have been the unifying pursuits of all religions. Some abominations have emerged from most. Holiness usually allows for victims, even requires it at times. At one extreme we find highly articulate works of Christopher Hitchens whose God Is Not Great describes how religion, or common elements of individual faith requirements, have poisoned the world. We have ambiguities as well. Much of our liturgy requires a minyan, a quorum of ten men, or at least for us it is ten Jewish men. Across town it is ten Jews. But do we need ten because a gathering with expanded liturgy adds to sanctity or do we need ten, however we define it, to check additional boxes on our worship agendas? Having sat for religious services as one of a thousand and as one of five, there is holy solidary with a throng and holy intimacy with a few. There is also impersonal gimme My Space isolation amid many and I’m relieved our requirements are abbreviated among a few. Sanctity may be more of an experience that each person summated over those present than it is to ritual objects labelled as sacred. We delegate people to bring this about, usually clergy though sometimes lay committees. We perhaps don’t generate report cards on success or failure as often as we should.
In the end, the majority of those identifying with my congregation have withdrawn from our formal rolls. Many have passed on or lost their independence. Others live in different communities. Some have defected for elsewhere or nowhere. Perhaps we are the institutional version of the coral reef, basically sound though vulnerable to environmental contaminants that depletes some but replaces little. Each person or family has its own story, just as each patient in the exam room has unique circumstances. But it is understanding and reacting to that commonality that people share as health conditions or as religious preferences that enable people to be best served. Medicine has done this very well with an interest in always doing more. My congregation, along with many others, has done this poorly. The desire of those who remain to advance their participant’s composite experiences beyond what they are drags behind. It is not apparent if any kind of introspection that jeopardizes the comfort zones or trajectory exist at all. So reads the scorecard.