Last Sunday
evening, after the Beit Din where six of our members completed their
conversions, we were relaxing around the table in Paul’s house. I heard Rabbi John Cooper telling one of the
new converts about the three Jewish Catalogues. These are guides to ‘do it
yourself Judaism,’ published in the 1970’s by people whom Rabbi John knew
personally: Richard Siegal, and Sharon
and Michael Strassfeld. They were members
of Havurat Shalom, an alternative community in Boston. Rabbi John met them whilst studying at
Brandeis University.
Now perhaps I’m unlikely to strike any of you as a ‘counterculture’ sort
of guy, but I’ve long been a fan of the Jewish Catalogues. I own all three, and I refer to them
periodically. I’ve also been very much a
fan of the Havurah movement, which I believe, breathed new life into a
moribund institutionalized Judaism. But
more on that in a moment.
There is an article called Surviving Your Synagogue in, I think,
the first of the three Jewish Catalogues.
The premise of the article is that, like it or not, your local congregation
provides important Jewish services and connections. Even the most reluctant Jewish consumer
should learn how to utilize it, contribute to it, and make it part of his or
her Jewish universe. And in doing so,
the reluctant Jewish consumer should not let the congregation’s tendency toward
banality, kill his or her own spiritual quest.
If you’re involved in Beth Hamitzvot, our nascent group on the Gold
Coast, then you have likely despaired of surviving your congregation and aspire
to be part of something different.
Something that will, hopefully, avoid the pitfalls, which are regrettably
typical of religious congregations. And
those pitfalls are the little power plays, the gossiping and back-biting, the
creation of little empires and other distractions from the congregation’s raison
d’être: to provide an address for
Jewish teaching, spirituality, and fellowship.
As is true of many local Jewish communities, here on the Gold Coast we
have some choices as to where and how to express our Jewishness. There is an Orthodox shule, a Progressive
temple, a Chabad outreach. And now our
congregation, Beth Hamitzvot. Not
the scope of choices that Jews in Melbourne or Sydney have, but choices
nonetheless. All the aforementioned
provide a venue for Jewish observance, worship, learning and fellowship. And yet, they are all different enough that
they are not in competition with one another.
Each appeals to a particular sensibility. It is true that some Jews when ‘shule
hunting’ are just looking for a place to make connections. But most will gravitate toward the alternatives
that best represents their Jewish sensibilities.
I’ve believed this for many years, and I’ve made it the basis of my
outreach to potential members. And
especially, with potential conversion students.
Not a few have been the students who came to me, began the process of conversion,
and along the way realised that Orthodox Judaism was where they really
belonged. When I’ve encountered such
people, I’ve always encouraged them to check out the Orthodox community. I’ve been told that I’m on the traditional
fringe for Reform rabbis. But I am
definitely not an Orthodox rabbi, and I therefore cannot help someone obtain
an Orthodox conversion.
Now sometimes the students in question came back to me after not receiving
a warm welcome in the Orthodox community. Sometimes I never saw them again, and assumed
they’d found a home in Orthodoxy. Or
just in some other congregation. Or in a
different religion altogether.
In the Jewish world, we make formal membership the major goal of
outreach to Jews. But I’ve never seen it
that way. When the member of another
congregation attends a service at my shule, they shouldn’t feel pressured to
change their affiliation. I believe that
Jews, if they care about Jewish religious life, should be affiliated. Becoming a member is an important statement of
one’s support of Jewish life. And I’m
very happy if someone affiliated with another congregation, enjoys attending my
congregation on occasion.
Obviously others have a very different approach. They are quick to criticize someone else’s
congregation out of the sense that the two are in competition. It’s all too common. And it’s hard to be completely unmoved by the
impetus to grow one’s congregation. When
we increase our numbers, it serves as an important validation of our
Jewish choices. And perhaps more
critically, it provides the additional ‘critical mass’ that may be necessary to
strengthen the congregation’s position and offerings. So I’m not knocking size.
But at the same time, the desire to increase the membership rolls
sometimes overshadows a more compelling need.
And that is, to focus on attracting specifically others who share our
vision for what a congregation can and should be. Look, we can’t expect that all of us at Beth
Hamitzvot – or any congregation for that matter – will agree about everything. We have already experienced an issue or two
where there have been sharp differences of opinion. There’s nothing fundamentally unhealthy about
that. But each congregation has a set of
core values, either explicit or de facto, implicit in the way they ‘do
business.’ We are a nascent group. A number of aspects of our ultimate identity
have not been addressed, let alone been decided. But even so, our core values – the de
facto ones – are starting to shape up and show.
For example, it could be said with accuracy that our primary
foundational core value is the centrality of learning. One would think that would be a given, common
to all congregations. But not
necessarily so. Many of you came to Beth
Hamitzvot from another congregation that, through its actions, made it clear
that learning is not a priority.
And that, in and of itself, is not a cause for criticism. But not owning up to it, pretending it is
not so, is. And it isn’t so uncommon. Many congregations build a focus on other
things that makes learning sometimes seem like an afterthought, like something
esoteric for just a small subgroup of the congregation. This is, in my opinion, regrettable. Were I looking around for a shule to belong
to, I would avoid any such congregation.
But if the members of a congregation can agree that learning is a
secondary, or even tertiary focus, and be upfront about it…I have no
quarrel with that.
So learning will be front-and-centre in Beth Hamitzvot. As will a welcoming and accepting spirit. As will a joyous approach to what we do. As will a reverence for the traditional
wisdom of the Torah. Let’s all agree on
these. Everything else is yet to be
determined. Let’s maintain our focus and
decide to avoid the pettiness that has unfortunately become a common byproduct of
congregational life. We’re human and we
therefore will mess up now and then. When
we do mess up, let’s resolve to have the integrity to look inward first, to
check our own motives and not be quick to lay blame outside ourselves. And then, let’s have the integrity to fix it.
Am I trying to say that there is
something amiss amongst us? No, not at
all, at least not to my knowledge. And let’s
work to keep it that way! It’s easy to
lose focus and allow the corrosive behaviors and mindset which we’ve
experienced elsewhere, to infect our nascent group. As we approach the Days of Awe, let’s renew
our commitment as individuals and collectively, to move only in positive
directions.
Maybe it’s not so much about surviving our synagogue, as about making
sure that our synagogue survives us.
Let’s make sure that Beth Hamitzvot, our new Havurah, will
survive our tendencies to interject the same injurious mindset and resulting
behaviors into the mix, that have repelled us elsewhere.
There’s that
word again: Havurah. It means ‘fellowship.’ In the late sixties and early seventies, the Havurah
movement I referred to earlier, arose as an important force in American
Judaism. The premise was that our
‘conventional’ congregations, of whatever ideological bent, had grown too
institutionalized to allow the meaningful expression of Jewish spirituality
within their walls. And there was more
than a shred of truth to the charge. And
that does not call into question those who lead congregations. It is unfortunate, but human, that leaders of
institutions sometimes lose sight of the founding purposes.
So a movement began: the creation
of smaller alternatives to conventional synagogues, groups where the emphasis
was on the deep connection between Jews to support the spiritual connection
between Jews and God. This, in contrast
to the conventional synagogue where the emphasis is often on ‘trappings.’ In a Havurah, the emphasis was
different even of the services and activities were not so different.
But let me return to another premise. Remember the goal of surviving one’s
synagogue. The point being that the congregation
is an indispensable tool if we’re going to be Jewish in a meaningful way. Even when that congregation is not exactly
what we would like it to be. But as I
also mentioned, the Jewish Catalogue in which the article appeared, was
written and edited by a trio who were at the forefront of the Havurah movement. They turned away from existing synagogues to
create something new and different.
We don’t use the word Havurah so much anymore. Today, we prefer to use the word Minyan for
an informal fellowship. It’s probably
because the word Havurah now seems to carry connotations of the
seventies’ counterculture movement. So
instead of the cities with large Jewish populations hosting numerous Havurahs,
today one finds a profusion of Minyans, but the premise is the
same. Sometimes, despite the important
role of the conventional synagogue, it is necessary to look outside its walls
for the Judaism one seeks.
So call Beth Hamitzvot a Havurah, or call it a Minyan. Really, call it anything you want. But make it a community, in the
best sense of the word. I think we’re
off to a great start. Now let’s keep it
up. It’s not enough to pray for a
good year. Rather, it is our
responsibility for make for ourselves, and for our emerging community, a
good year. Ken yehi ratson – may
this be God’s will.
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