Belonging still matters: A reply

My friend Liron Lipinsky Salitrik recently shared in these pages a thoughtful essay entitled “Belonging matters.” In it, she describes arriving at a conclusion that is at once profoundly contemporary and remarkably old-fashioned: it’s time to join a shul.

In spite of the many ways in which Jewish life can now be experienced through podcasts, social media feeds, online classes, group chats, Substacks and occasional holiday gatherings, my friend finds herself drawn back to something decidedly less trendy: synagogue membership.

Why? Because, she realizes, at a moment when college campuses and social media feeds — indeed, when general public discourse — can leave Jews feeling uncomfortable, isolated or under assault, she feels a home base, or a place “where people notice when we are missing,” is, itself, missing from her life.

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Robert Frost, in his poem “The Death of the Hired Man,” calls home “the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”

It is precisely such a home base that this proudly Jewish professional woman recognizes as valuable now that she is an adult with a deep desire to connect in real time with other members of what she calls “her tribe.”

As I read and reread her cri de coeur, I found myself reflecting upon an idea I proffered in these pages in the spring of 2011. Then, too, a deep concern was the role of the synagogue in a rapidly changing world.

Fifteen years ago I called for a “Courageous Conversation” about the future of our congregational landscape. My argument then was that many — if not most — of the assumptions upon which synagogues had operated for decades were increasingly unreliable. Demographics were shifting. Patterns of affiliation were evolving. Technology was coming fast. It was clear that the challenges faced by congregations could no longer successfully be addressed by relying upon the thinking of yesteryear.

Many welcomed the call for such a conversation. Others were less comfortable. Today, my call for courage seems understated. Consider what has transpired since.

Smartphones became ubiquitous, giving everyone immediate, on-demand access to the internet. Social media provided everyone with a way to share their opinions — a soapbox and a megaphone — and transformed our expectations of community. Streaming services and Zoom allowed us to experience community asynchronously and at a distance.

Locally, the events of Oct. 27, 2018, transformed “Tree of Life” from the name of a neighbor congregation into shorthand for the deadliest antisemitic attack in American history; and as a result, ever since, every Jewish congregation in the country has been forced to budget for security (at the expense of spending on Judaism, itself). Five years later, Oct. 7, 2023, unleashed a new variant of Jew-hatred disguised as opposition to Israel and Zionism.

And all this unfolded against the backdrop of a global pandemic, political polarization, economic uncertainty and a cultural landscape increasingly frightened and angry, fragmented and frayed.

In the past decade and a half, as opportunities for virtual connectivity exploded, suspicion, loneliness and isolation grew exponentially. Our congregations have not been spared the ravages of these realities. It is precisely in this fractious landscape — threatened from without and divided from within — that Liron Lipinsky Salitrik’s call for congregational belonging becomes not an extra but a necessity.

In 2011, I was focused on the question of how congregations must change. Fifteen years later, I appreciate Liron’s important rejoinder: what within congregations must endure. After all, as my friend points out, for all the sturm und drang about new names, dues structures, governance models and ideas for innovation, there remains an unassailable truth.

Human beings need a place to belong. Jews, specifically, need a home base.

Indeed, one of the great ironies of modern life is that even as we have multiplied the ways in which one can experience and express Judaism, we have not diminished Jews’ need for human connection with other Jews and Jewish-adjacent family and friends in real time.

Podcasts inform us. Substacks inspire us. Online classes educate us. Streaming distracts us. Social media and Zoom connect us (kinda). But none of these ersatz ways of relating fully substitute for feeling known and seen — to say nothing of being missed when we are absent for too long.

Liron describes seeking a shul, not because congregations are a panacea for life’s persistent problems, but because, she notes, Jews were never meant to experience life alone — nor, for that matter, online.

Fifteen years after calling for a courageous conversation about congregations, today we see evidence of new models in our midst: independent minyanim; a unification of established entities; even an effort by families to join a congregation en masse in order to have a role in shaping its future. These courageous actions are encouraging and to the good.

Every generation inherits institutions from an earlier age and then reshapes their own house (home) of worship. And we should acknowledge: The synagogues of the future will necessarily look different from synagogues of the past. And they should. But for the sake of the Jewish people, some things must never change.

So long as congregations continue to welcome Jews — helping them to create spaces where they and other Jews feel seen, known and valued; allowing them to joyfully celebrate Judaism together; and encouraging them to proudly own their Judaism in the face of an often hostile world — then the future of our People, whatsoever our congregational boards or rabbis or fellow Jews look like, will remain secure.

Fifteen years ago, I asked how congregations must change. Liron Lipinsky Salitrik reminds us why our congregations must endure. She is right, just as Robert Frost was right.

Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. And in a world that offers unlimited opportunities to opt out of Jewish community while imagining we are opting in, congregations that are truly a home base for Jews will remain indispensable to the future of Jewish life. PJC

Rabbi Aaron Bisno serves as the Rabbi at Temple Ohav Shalom and the Frances F. & David R. Levin Rabbinic Scholar at Beit Kulanu.