Worship

A Message from Rabbi Ammiel Hirsch to the Congregation

I wish to launch a discussion with you that I hope will continue to engage us in the months and years ahead.

Most members of Stephen Wise do not worship regularly. We are no different than other American Reform synagogues. Most of the 1.5 million members of Reform congregations did not join their synagogues because they were motivated primarily by regular worship. Their expectation of worship is, at most, irregular. By this I mean that overwhelmingly, most of our members expect to participate in communal worship only a few times a year, if at all. They might visit the synagogue on the High Holy Days or one or two other festivals, on the anniversary of the death of a loved one, when their children have a bar/bat mitzvah or participate in a worship experience. From time to time some people might be attracted to a service by a guest speaker or some other "special event." But for most of us regular worship is not a regular habit that forms part of our regular routines – like, say – reading the Sunday Times every week.

You can see this principle in action if you visit practically any American Reform synagogue at practically any time of the year. The norm is that at any given service, a tiny minority of the congregation – say – 2–5% – is in attendance. There are huge Reform congregations with literally thousands of member families, where on any given Shabbat, there might be several dozen worshippers. Synagogues that have one thousand member families (at least 2,500 people) consider themselves successful if one hundred people attend a regular Friday night service (relatives, guests, visitors and all).

Think of what this means: 90–95% of Reform Jews are regularly and habitually(!) not worshipping. We cannot sustain our synagogues over time, nor can we sustain Jewish life without increasing these percentages.

According to the Talmud even God prays. "What does he pray for," asked the rabbis? They responded that God prays for self–mastery; that Divine anger at human beings will never be so great as to overwhelm God’s most important attribute of mercy towards human beings.

Jewish sages said, "The world rests on three pillars, Torah, worship and acts of loving–kindness." The sages purposely used an image of the world resting on three pillars – like a three–legged stool. Their intent was to force us to consider what would occur if one of the pillars were removed. The answer, of course, is that the world would collapse. The lesson that the rabbis sought to convey is that worship is a fundamental pillar of Jewish life. Remove it, and the Jewish world collapses – maybe not immediately – maybe not in one generation – but over time.

Many critics of the Reform movement therefore expect that the golden era of liberal Judaism is reaching a peak and will soon begin to decline. Even many of our own rabbinical and educational leaders all but concede that we cannot fight the nature of who we are – and who we are – are Jews who do not worship regularly. If we were regular worshippers we would, by definition, not be Reform Jews. So goes the argument.

Thus we (at least those of us who think of these things often) are caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand we assert that our very world is dependent on regular worship, and on the other hand, we concede that our people are not regular worshippers by their very nature.

So what’s a rabbi to do?! Something’s gotta give! Either the proposition that worship is central to Jewish life is wrong; or the characterization of the people that we are non–worshippers by our very nature is wrong; or – if both are right – liberal Judaism is headed for the precipice.

My take is this: I do not accept the assertion that our people are – by their nature – not regular worshippers. Reform Jews may not be attending services regularly – but is this because their nature rebels against prayer?

What is prayer? It is the language of the heart. It is emotions and feelings. It is awe and wonder. It is amazement and gratitude. Prayer is passion. It is the impulse towards transcendence, the yearning to break free. Are Reform Jews impervious to these feelings? Are we not also spiritual beings, or are Reform Jews all of the head and nothing of the heart, unimpressed, uninfluenced, unmoved and un–swayed by the stirrings of the soul?

Are we all reason and no emotion? Do we believe that truth lies only in science – or can poetry, music and love also be true? Have Reform Jews sealed hermetically the gateways to our hearts or do we also possess, what William James called, "the will to believe?"

Now if I am right, and there does exist a reservoir of latent spiritual energy within the Reform Jew’s soul, then the problem is not why are we wasting our time appealing to people who by their nature will not respond. The problem is how do we tap into their spiritual reservoir and bring out its suppressed potential?

And if I am right that there is, indeed, suppressed spiritual potential amongst the multitudes of Reform Jews, then the fact that practically no Reform synagogue is successfully bringing it out beyond the marginal 2–5% attendance – is a failure of monumental proportions!

(If I am wrong? Well, if I am wrong then I will continue to act as if I am right and that we can, indeed, transform the behavior of the multitudes of Reform Jews. What other choice is there: to abandon the idea that prayer is one of the few pillars sustaining the Jewish people? The proof of this proposition is all around us if we only care to open our eyes and look.)

And if I am right that the Reform Jewish nature is not one of rebellion against prayer – then our challenge as a synagogue is to figure out how to reach our people and to move them spiritually. Synagogues exist for this purpose. It is our job, our task in life.

This is the challenge that I would like our synagogue to embark upon in the months and years ahead. I would like us to invest considerable time, effort and resources in this pursuit. If we succeed, we will have done something of great, and even historic, significance. At the very least, it is a worthy challenge for a congregation that considers itself to be heir to a legacy of history–making.

Accordingly, I have asked the ritual committee to spearhead an effort to explore various methods and modes of worship, and to assist Cantor Opatow and me (and Cantor Opatow’s successor) in our continuing efforts to elevate worship to a more relevant and fulfilling component of our Jewish identity.

Prayer is not a task that you can subcontract to your clergy and enjoy its benefits vicariously. Prayer is not a performance. The most essential ingredients in prayer are sincerity and authenticity. You have to be involved. You have to be comfortable and literate in the language of prayer. You can learn these things.

In the months ahead we will look at all aspects of prayer. As we try different things it is quite possible – in fact, probable – that one change or another will not be fully satisfying to everyone. Prayer is a personal and subjective experience. There is no right and wrong in prayer. There is no "one size fits all." As we learn more about ourselves, we will be in a better position to offer multiple worship experiences based upon different preferences and styles.

One thing appears clear. To produce a different outcome we have to do things differently. To continue to worship in the same style that Reform congregations have been worshipping will continue to produce the same results. A conventional approach will produce a conventional outcome, and a conventional outcome is simply no longer acceptable. What is the great attraction at being conventional, anyway? Anyone can be conventional. We should strive to be special!

Help us to be special. Give us your time and patience. Open yourself to new experiences. Take a risk! Let us hear from you. Come and help us. Contact members of the ritual committee, and our chairman, Stanley Goos. Take part and play an active role in our efforts. In the process you will learn much about yourself and your Jewish identity.