One of the most important works on Jewish sociology of the 20th century was Professor Marshall Sklare’s book, Conservative Judaism. It was published in 1955, the heyday of the Conservative movement, during which many graduates of Orthodox yeshivas were taking pulpits in Conservatives shuls and more and more Orthodox shuls were changing their affiliation and becoming Conservative. Sklare famously declared the history of Orthodoxy in the United States “can be written in terms of a case study of institutional decay.” He concluded his analysis of Jewish Orthodoxy by proclaiming that its future was bleak.
I thought about Marshall Sklare this past week as I read the news from Queens, New York. The board of the very first Solomon Schechter school, named after one of the most influential leaders of the Conservative movement, voted to change its charter from being a Conservative school to an Orthodox one. This school of almost 500 students no longer has an egalitarian minyan and is now called the Hebrew Academy of Queens.
This is part of a national trend; Conservative Judaism is on the decline. Over the last 20 years, one third of Conservative synagogues have closed their doors. Meanwhile, in our little Pikesville, a new Orthodox shul is born every day.
While there are some Orthodox Jews who have been celebrating this shift, I think it’s worth reflecting on two relevant implications.
One – every Conservative school or shul that closes its doors leaves hundreds, maybe thousands of Jews spiritually homeless. While a handful may decide that traditional-Torah Judaism is the only way forward; many will simply lose their connection to our faith. That is a travesty.
There’s an additional point worth considering that directly impacts us. Why are these shuls and why are these schools closing their doors? Conservative Judaism seems to be a perfect blend of structure, but not too much structure. Respect for the past, but modern. Where did they go wrong?
To be clear, I believe their understanding of how Jewish law works is flawed, but that’s not a reason why the movement would not remain as wildly popular as it was in the 50’s and 60’s. Why is their movement no longer as attractive as it once was?
One of the articles that reported on the Solomon Schechter school in Queens noted that the school’s shift to Orthodox was also part of a local trend. Many of the previously Conservative shuls have become Orthodox over the past decades. How did they get the formerly conservative membership to agree to separate seating and all other Orthodox practices?
They left the memorial plaques in place.
They left the memorial plaques in place. That was what it took.
Effectively, they were more focused on the dead than the living, on the past, more so than their future.
And this is something that we are far from perfect with ourselves.
I shared with you all in the past how we love dead Jews.
What’s the one day a year that our shul is packed? Is it Purim with its tangible joy, children in costume, and lively music? No. It’s Yizkor when we pay tribute to the dead.
What’s one historic moment that all Jews rally around? Is it the giving of the Torah, when 3 million Jews heard from G-d Himself? Is it the creation of the State of Israel, celebrating her miraculous success, the revival of our ancient tongue, regaining sovereignty after 2000 years? No. It’s the Holocaust. All Jews can agree that it’s good to talk about 6,000,000 dead Jews.
What is the one ritual that we all hold dearer than any other? Is it Torah study? That opportunity to connect to our ancient wisdom? Is it prayer, that invitation to speak directly to the Creator of the World? No. It’s a yahrzeit when we say Kaddish for the dead.
We love dead Jews.
I have been haunted for a decade by a short conversation I had with a child of this shul. I asked her what shul is. Her reply? “Where my family goes when someone dies.”
Reverence for the past is beautiful, but when we choose the past over the future, when we choose plaques over people, when we choose to memorialize and not internalize, that is a recipe for the end of a movement.
There is only one non-Biblical fast day that overrides Shabbos. According to one opinion, Asarah B’Teves, yesterday’s fast would override Shabbos, but not everyone agrees. The one fast that overrides Shabbos is a fast that one takes upon themselves when they have a bad dream. If you were to wake up on a Shabbos morning after a harrowing dream, you would be allowed to fast if you so choose. Now If Tisha B’av, the day that commemorates the destruction of both Temples and the start of our exile were to fall out on Shabbos, we would push it off to Sunday. Why?
Says Rav Meilech Biederman, Tisha B’av is about the past, it happened already. If you memorialize it a day later, big deal. A dream is about the future, and the future is potent, the future is powerful, the future is the only thing we really need to worry about.
When Yaakov Avinu gathers his family around him at the end of his life, he does not tell them to make sure to not forget him, he does not tell them how good things were in the old country. Instead, הֵאָֽסְפוּ֙ וְאַגִּ֣ידָה לָכֶ֔ם אֵ֛ת אֲשֶׁר־יִקְרָ֥א אֶתְכֶ֖ם בְּאַחֲרִ֥ית הַיָּמִֽים׃
Yaakov is entirely focused on the future, on what comes next. Are you passing our values on to the next generation? Are you ensuring that your children get the best Jewish education possible? Are you describing our rituals as a connection to a quaint past or as the most relevant present and the only way forward to a glorious future? A focus on children and on the future is the only way for a people to thrive.
This week is, I believe, the most significant week in my time at Ner Tamid. When I joined the shul there was a teen minyan, a very nice minyan with no talking, but there were no teens. Over the years, I noticed many shuls had learning programs for young families on Saturday nights, I didn’t think we had the critical mass or the interest to have one at our shul.
Last Saturday night, Ner Tamid hosted its first very own Family Learning. I got emotional looking around the packed room of Ner Tamid boys and girls, mothers and fathers learning together – especially impressive as it overlapped with a Ravens game. Today, right now, I will be exiting out that side door to go join our reinstated teen minyan. Our teens will be meeting weekly for a teen-led Mussaf minyan. We waited and waited until we had a critical mass of teenagers and now, thank G-d, we do.
Even those of you who are not into sociology may be familiar with the last name Sklare. You may not know Professor Marshall Sklare, but you may have heard of Rabbi Yonah Sklare. You see, Marshall Sklare’s son decided to join that movement that his father described as “a case study of institutional decay.” Marshall’s grandson, Rabbi Yonah Sklare, is a noted lecturer and teacher of Torah, who has given numerous talks in our shul.
Plaques are important. The past is important. But you cannot drive a car by only looking at the rearview mirror. A movement obsessed with the past will not survive.
Is the Torah relevant to us today? Can Judaism bring us closer to a better tomorrow? If that’s the message we are living and breathing, then, and only then will our children follow in our footsteps. Then, and only then, will this shul and movement live on.
Now if you could please excuse me as I go shep nachas from our future.