There has been a tremendous amount of ink spilled and keys pressed discussing the finer details of the Pew Research Center Survey of U.S. Jews. Why has Conservative Judaism experienced such a sharp decline in the past 20 years? Why did so many Jews raised Orthodox 65 and older leave Orthodoxy (22%) while so many 30 and under remain Orthodox (83%)? Perhaps the most perplexing question: Who are the 1% of the Ultra-Orthodox Jewish community that had a Christmas tree in their home last year?
These questions and so many more have been debated and argued about extensively in the weeks that have followed since the publication of the survey. The survey shows a Jewish community that is increasingly becoming more divided between those who affiliate and those who do not and between those who are on the liberal spectrum and those on the Orthodox spectrum. However, sometimes when examining the macro situation it is worthwhile to zoom in on the micro as the micro can be helpful in understanding the larger picture. After all, a large picture is only but a collection of many smaller pictures sitting together on the same canvas.
This week we welcomed our second son into the covenant of the Jewish people at his brit milah ceremony. It was a beautiful and joyous event that we were blessed to share with members of our synagogue community. It was also an incredible display of broad Jewish community and Jewish affiliation. In the room there were Jews who affiliated with synagogues of every denomination and Jews who affiliated with no synagogue. In contrast to the picture that is painted by surveys of the American Jewish landscape, the ceremony for our son was an example of what is happening on the ground in so many places, including our city of Denver.
Above is a picture of many of the rabbis of Denver who I have been blessed to call my friends and colleagues who joined us at the brit milah of our son, Moshe Aharon.
I present this as just one small illustration of all the cross-denominational community building and friendships that are formed throughout the contemporary American Jewish story. It is time we focused less on the results of surveys and more on the work of community collaboration and building bridges, which is at the heart of what can be an even more vibrant American Jewish story.
By now, if you are reading this, you undoubtedly have been inundated with punditry about the meaning of the Pew Research Center Survey of U.S. Jews. Many scholars and institutional players immediately bemoaned the results as confirmation of the decline or degradation of American Jewry. Others have dismissed the data as either flawed (based on its use of comparison with the widely discredited 2000 NJPS survey) as drawing causal conclusions where mere correlations are suggested, or as too macro to represent the specifics of an individual Jewish community. Still others have seen positives in the data, whether due to the opportunity to reach out to Jews who reject denominational affiliations, the surprisingly large percentage of Jews who express faith in God, or because of the incredible 94% of Jews who express pride in being Jewish.
This latter point truly is revolutionary. Growing up as a Gen-Xer in a largely non-Jewish environment in San Diego, being Jewish was something that my friends and I largely kept to ourselves. My Day School background made me feel knowledgeable in my Jewishness, but I don’t think “pride” would be the way I, or most of my friends, described how we felt about being Jewish. I think this is why the Adam Sandler Chanukah Song, when it came out, was such a big deal–it gave us permission to be proud of our Jewishness and the accomplishments of our fellow Jews. So we should celebrate how much has changed for the better in the relatively few years since then. Continue reading
Like everyone else I know who is active in the Jewish community, my Facebook page and email inbox have been inundated with articles about the Pew Research Center survey of U.S. Jews that was released at the beginning of October. With varying degrees of hand-wringing, they say it seems that the Jewish community is shrinking, and in another hundred years or so there will be no more Jews in the U.S. except a small number of Orthodox Jews. The message: We have to do everything possible to get people to stay Jewish and raise Jewish kids, or there won’t be any more Jews.
As I led Torah study at my synagogue in Brooklyn on Shabbat morning last week, these articles were on my mind while we discussed the story of the Tower of Babel in Parashat Noach. The story struck a chord for me this year. I realized that I sometimes feel like the Jewish community is saying, “If we could just build a big enough tower, we could get people to keep being Jewish!” and “We need to make a tower that 20-somethings will think is really cool, and then we’ll be OK!”
Of course this is a flipped-over Tower of Babel. Instead of a tower project enabled by everyone speaking the same language and having the same words, this tower is about trying to get everyone to speak the same language and have the same words. Nevertheless, both towers are about control—let’s make a name for ourselves, let’s control where the community is going.
The Jewish community is changing. I’m not sure what everything in the Pew survey means, though I do know it’s a snapshot in time, and that people’s spiritual needs change over time. I also know that I am a part of a rich and wonderful tradition that has a lot to offer. I trust that tradition. I believe we need to innovate and change. I believe we need to help Jews find a way to live their Judaism that is relevant and spiritually fulfilling. But I want that innovation and that outreach to be based on joy and love for our tradition, not on fear for its future. That positive attitude is what will make us stronger; not an attitude of desperation.
My synagogue is a small community—right now we have just over 100 families and individuals as members. At that Torah study last week there were 25-30 adults who were engaged and excited to wrestle with our Torah. They ranged in age from parents of young children to retirees. Some did not grow up with Judaism. Some weren’t interested in Judaism when they were in their 20s and 30s but became engaged later—through children, or spouses, or an awakening of interest in spirituality or their heritage. They don’t like everything they find in our tradition, but they find a lot that speaks to them where they are in their lives. Torah study allows us to get deeper than the superficialities of everyday life; it gives us a space to talk about the big issues and questions.
I’m less concerned with the Jews in the Pew survey and more concerned with the Jews in my pews. If, as a rabbi, I can facilitate exploration of Judaism and open the door to the joy and richness of Judaism for the people I meet at my synagogue and elsewhere, then perhaps they will choose to increase their involvement with Judaism in one way or another. Or maybe they won’t. I don’t control that. So I’m not going to wring my hands over it; I’m just going to keep trying to help people in their spiritual searches, and not try to build a Tower of Babel that will get them to be the Jews I think they should be.