On that evening we welcomed fifteen Confirmands who had completed a year’s course of study with me.  As always, it was a beautiful ceremony, both visually and spiritually.  Only a minority of American Jews take their Judaism seriously; only a minority of those who are committed to Jewish life affiliate with Synagogues; and only a minority of their children study after becoming B’nai Mitzvah.  Therefore, these fifteen students represent a small core of young people for whom Judaism is meaningful and inspirational.

The ceremony, celebrating the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai, was filled with heartwarming moments.  But I wondered what message our congregants sent to these young Jews by their wholesale absence on that sacred occasion.  As they surveyed a largely vacant Sanctuary, it must have registered upon their impressionable minds and spirits that adult Jews, even if they join a Synagogue, are not at all disposed to celebrate a Festival or share in a congregational milestone.  From the Temple leadership to its rank and file, unless you were a family member, or a friend of a family whose child was becoming a Confirmand, the membership decided to stay away in droves.  Were it not for Confirmation, no one would have attended this Shavuot service. Only the Bima would have been populated.

Studies reveal that Jews attend their house of worship less than any other religious group in America.  In fact, only atheists attend more rarely.  Can we be satisfied with such a wholesale disregard for our great heritage?

The credo of Temple Bat Yahm is “Strength of Tradition, Warmth of Community.”  At least during this past Shavuot, 325 empty seats revealed the disparity between this self-image and reality.

Walk down the hallway of any long-established suburban Reform or Conservative synagogue where the photographs of each year’s confirmation class are mounted and you will be reminded of the dramatic changes that have taken place in these institutions over the past half-century.  Fifty years ago, in many of the larger congregations, ninth and tenth grade classes regularly exceeded one hundred students and sometimes even reached two hundred.  Today, if a Reform congregation of a thousand families can muster a confirmation class of thirty students, Rabbis and educators are not only relieved but feel a small sense of victory.

This is but one reflection of an undeniable reality.  With the exception of a number of Orthodox communities and a few other bright spots in or just off the mainstream of Jewish religious life, American Judaism is in precipitous decline.  Not only is enrollment in non-Orthodox Jewish religious educational programs down, so is synagogue affiliation.  Philanthropic giving in the religious sector of the Jewish community is also declining.  For Rabbis, Jewish educators, and communal leaders, it is a difficult moment.  Jews are flourishing in America, but organized, institutional Judaism is in deep trouble, particularly after the recent economic crisis.

Professor Steven M. Cohen, a leading sociologist of American Judaism and a professor at the Reform movement’s flagship Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, talks about 850,000 Reform Jews.  Similarly Reform Judaism magazine reports a circulation of approximately 300,000 which would yield a total affiliated Reform population at well under one million adherents.  In other words, the Reform movement has probably contracted by a full third in the last ten years!  The impact of this reality on its finances has been felt by Reform synagogue boards across the country and can be seen in the dismantling of almost the entire regional office system of the American Reform movement and the extraordinary efforts during the past year on the part of the Board of Governors of the Hebrew Union College to keep all four branches of HUC-JIR open.”

As Reform Jews, Synagogue Jews, caring Jews, we must take cognizance of this increasingly desperate situation.  Not only is American Jewry in free-fall from a population standpoint, but the quality of our commitment is attenuating at a shocking rate.

As individuals, we cannot make enough of an impact to reverse or slow this nose-dive.  But as individuals we can do our utmost so that, in our own lives, in our own families, in our own Synagogue, we make strenuous and consistent efforts to create a model Temple community by deepening our commitment to study, prayer, and philanthropy.  A question that can inspire and energize us is: Am I striving to become the best Jewish person that I can be?

I hear it said that the forty or so students who attend my Shabbat morning Torah Class represent a strong showing, that we should be proud to see so many adults who are eager and regular attendees for learning.

As I surveyed the room on a recent Shabbat, I did not share that assessment—and I said so. From a congregation that boasts many hundreds of adults, two-score students is a pitiful percentage. The multitude of absentees mocks at least the first part of our Temple’s creedal couplet: “Strength of Tradition, Warmth of Community.”

Think of what it would mean for you to say to your children: “I/We are going out this morning to the Rabbi’s Torah class. It is Shabbat and this is what Jewish people have done for thousands of years. I/We think it is important to study the Torah with our Rabbi and we will be back home in a couple of hours. Shabbat Shalom.”

Could anything be a greater, more positive statement to your children? Could anything make a greater impression? They will remember for a lifetime that you associated being a Jewish adult with learning the great messages of our heritage, that Judaism is not just preparation for a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, but is a lifelong pursuit of wisdom, truth, and knowledge!

Being with our children on Saturday morning is important to their development. But being away from our children on Shabbat morning can be even more important to their growth.

We can say to our children that Judaism is important, but if we do not affirm it in our decisions they will know that we do not back up our words with deeds. Yes, the key word is “decisions.” You decide week in and week out to attend or to not attend Torah study. It is your choice. It is your example that you are setting.

I read this BLOG to the Torah class and invited their responses. Several people said that too many attendees would threaten the intimacy of the class. I countered that I did not foresee members flocking to Saturday morning Torah Study, despite my request. I concluded by saying that we will evaluate at the end of January whether our membership has responded to this BLOG and its invitation.

It should be interesting!

Faithfully,

Rabbi Miller