There has been an efflorescence of independent, exciting and creative collective Jewish activity carried out by young people in their 20s and 30s in the United States over the past decade. See, for example, The Continuity of Discontinuity: How Young Jews Are Connecting, Creating, and Organizing Their Own Jewish Lives by Steven M. Cohen and Ari Y. Kelman, Reboot, 2007. http://www.bjpa.org/Publications/details.cfm?PublicationID=327  

The new endeavors fit mainly into five major domains of activity, as follows:

1. Independent spiritual communities
These can be divided into two main categories: new independent minyanim (congregations led by volunteers); and rabbi-led ‘emergent communities’, (rabbis starting their own congregations), both of which are non-Orthodox by definition.  Orthodox Jews have always created these types of minyanim; but for this to be happening outside of Orthodoxy is new.  The quality of davening (prayer) within these new communities is often exceptionally powerful and moving, and most represent an effective fusion of prayer, learning and social justice across the different compartments of Jewish life.  Two of the most interesting examples are Kehilat Hadar in New York, and Ikar in Los Angeles. See, for example, Emergent Jewish Communities and their Participants: Preliminary Findings from the 2007 National Spiritual Communities Study by Steven M. Cohen, J. Shawn Landres, Elie Kaunfer, Michelle Shain; S3K Synagogue Studies Institute and Mechon Hadar. http://www.bjpa.org/Publications/details.cfm?PublicationID=2828

2. Social justice
There has been sizeable growth in new organizations committed to social justice work. See, Visioning Justice and the American Jewish Community by Shifra Bronznick, Didi Goldenhar; Nathan Cummings Foundation, 2008. http://www.bjpa.org/Publications/details.cfm?PublicationID=819

It is striking that funding has grown so much that there may be a professional shortage in this area. 

One of the major debates within the field has been whether social justice work in the Jewish community should have an ulterior motive or not, i.e., whether initiatives should be established partly as a means to deepen engagement in Jewish life on the part of the volunteers, or purely for their own sake.  Probably the leading advocate of social justice work, Ruth Messinger, President of the American Jewish World Service, strongly supports the latter position. She has made clear that the guiding purpose must be to serve the beneficiary. Of course, in so doing, there will be additional Jewish educational and inspirational benefits for the participants. This emphasis on the primacy of purpose is another defining feature of much of the innovative work that is currently taking place.

3. Jewish culture
New Jewish magazines and record labels have been established which fuse together Jewish and non-Jewish culture in innovative and intriguing ways.  Of particular note are Heeb Magazine and JDub Records, to name just two illustrative phenomena. For others and for an assessment of the impact of Jewish cultural events, see Cultural Events and Jewish Identities: Young Adult Jews in New York by Steven M. Cohen and Ari Y. Kelman, UJA-Federation of New York, 2005. http://www.bjpa.org/Publications/details.cfm?PublicationID=2911

4. New media
The growth of Jewish culture may partly be attributed to the expansion of the Internet and the decline in production costs, spawning a "pro-am" movement in cultural endeavors of all sorts.  The Internet has allowed new music, videos and films to be produced and distributed at almost no cost.  Much of the recent Jewish innovation focuses on building websites, which typically empower Jews to create their own Jewish lives on their own terms.  As the Internet has become a two-way communications device, online innovations often allow users to participate in interesting Jewish activities that are free of any controlling authority.  Examples include online facilities that allow people to create their own siddurim (prayer books) or access midrashim (Biblical commentaries) in ways that enable Jews to discover traditional texts. 

5. Learning
Possibly the most significant learning initiative, which has had a huge impact on Jewish education in Britain, the US and across the Jewish world, is Limmud.  Its defining characteristics are that it allows Jews to take control of their own learning and Jewish life.  Any model of education that enables this age cohort to feel empowered in this way is likely to succeed.  Divrei Torah are becoming increasingly common, both as a practice and as a way to open meetings.

The ‘ABCD’ of young American Jews
Young people are distancing themselves from aspects of the Judaism of their elders, and responding to what they see as its shortcomings. Embodied within the endeavors outlined above is both a widely held, albeit unevenly shared, critique of conventional Jewish life. The Jewishly engaged but institutionally unaffiliated harbor four objections to the commonly available opportunities for affiliation, objections that may be encapsulated in the mnemonic "ABCD.":

A = Alienating: The young people leading these initiatives feel alienated from the more conventional Jewish world, and wish to challenge many of its perceived norms by offering far more independence of thought and action.

B = Bland and Boring: This is how they view the Jewish lifestyle choices of the older generation. They see conventional leaders as too homogeneous, and disturbingly closed to diversity in social class and family status. The Judaism they seek is stimulating, upbeat, passionate and happy.

C = Coercive: The younger Jews find established Jewish institutions implicitly coercive - aiming to induce younger Jews to marry each other, to conceive Jewish babies and to support Israeli government policies of which they are ambivalent. By contrast, the initiatives they are creating are characterized by an emphasis on autonomy and the respect for individual growth. 

D = Divisive: They find conventional Jewish institutions divisive, in that they are seen as dividing Jews from non-Jews, Jews from each other, Jewish turf from non-Jewish turf, and Jewish culture from putatively (and artificially defined) non-Jewish culture. In contrast, they seek diversity in people, culture, and geography.  They tend toward the post-denominational.  Similarly, they like to open up the boundaries between Jewish and non-Jewish, borrowing freely from non-Jewish culture to create new forms of Jewish culture, and demonstrating clear preferences for activities that happen in non-Jewish spaces, rather than exclusively Jewish ones.

Why is all this happening now?

1. Demography
Half of all non-Orthodox American Jews in the 25-39 age group are unmarried, and this represents the largest population of young Jewish single adults ever.  This demographic is ill-suited to most traditional Jewish institutions such as synagogues and JCCs which focus on in-married Jewish couples with Jewish children.

2. Growth in Jewish education
The huge growth of Jewish education in the 1980s and 1990s - day schools, camps, Israel experience, etc - has created a vast pool of Jewish social and cultural capital.  When the graduates of these experiences fail to find their niche within existing initiatives and organizations, it is unsurprising that they should seek to create their own.

3. Growth of Non-Governmental Organizations
There has been a huge growth in NGOs and all kinds of self-initiated projects in the wider society in the past couple of decades, and one would expect this trend to be mirrored in the Jewish world.

4. Social acceptance
Greater Jewish integration into wider society and the decline of Jewish vulnerability are particularly important phenomena.  Being Jewish used to be a given, while being American was open to question. Today, being American is the given, while being Jewish is increasingly open to question.  Jewish exclusivity is regarded by the younger generation as increasingly problematic, and many within this demographic are reluctant to participate in Jewish communal activity if their non-Jewish partner is unwelcome.  Part of the wide appeal of Barack Obama to non-Orthodox Jews amongst this group was because of his stand against exclusivism and judgmentalism, and his desire to break down barriers between black and white, Republican and Democrat, etc. 

Warning

The community may well need to ‘change or die’.  The change agenda requires three components: a ‘wedge’ - a critical image of contemporary reality, a ‘magnet’ - a vision of how things could look, and a ‘bridge’ - a means by which to move towards that vision.

Steven M Cohen, Director of Research for S3K, discussed the new age of social innovation in American Jewish life at a seminar for Jewish community professionals in December. The seminar was organized jointly by JPR and JHub, the London-based Jewish Social Action and Innovation Hub. The original reflection can be found at http://www.jpr.org.uk/news/detail.php?id=141

From 2005 to 2009, author Kathleen E. Jenkins conducted sixty interviews with divorced individuals (eleven Jewish) active in a variety of religious communities. Jenkins interviewed forty clergy (twelve rabbis) and lay leaders. Three of the rabbis had been divorced.

Jenkins includes anecdotes from her interviews that may surprise many in the synagogue community while not surprise others at all. The report concludes with some simple, practical suggestions for synagogues to better serve this distinct community.

Download the full report http://synagogue3000.org/files/S3KDivorceReport.pdf

Then, B’nai Jeshurun’s three spiritual leaders - Rabbis J. Rolando Matalon, Marcelo R. Bronstein and Felicia L. Sol - offer their fascinating perspective on the distinctive BJ experience in, "Take BJ from its Rabbis’ Point of View."

S3K cofounder Rabbi Larry Hoffman and S3K Director of Research Professor Steven M. Cohen introduce the companion pieces, adding their views and insights to the mix. These three pieces, compiled into one report, then, combine the perspectives of outsiders and insiders, as well as rabbis and social scientists, upon one of the most intriguing developments in Jewish congregational life in North America today.

Download PDF (and read the rest of the report)

This winter, my husband and I quit the Conservative shul that we belonged to for nearly ten years. While the saying – "winners never quit and quitters never win" – resonates in my head, I realize that sometimes leaders need to assess circumstances, cut losses, learn from their experience, and move on.

Our decision to leave our congregation has been part of a larger journey that began prior to my affiliation with the Wexner Heritage Program and intensified over the last year. Raised in a Conservative Jewish home, I turned to Conservative Judaism as an adult more out of reflex than reflection when we decided to join a congregation in the suburbs.

The rabbi at the congregation we just left is lovely – a young, fun, and thoughtful person. Most of the congregants are really nice people who are trying their best to build a community through faith. We had no clash of wills with the rabbi, administration, or congregants. Instead, we found that we simply did not adhere to the belief system that anchors the Conservative Movement.

After years of attending services, I knew we were not Conservative Jews and had no aspiration to become Conservative Jews. Like so many, I suspect, we were simply paying our dues out of inertia. Our son’s bar mitzvah was looming on the horizon. I didn’t have the strength or will to explore other options. The only other congregation in easy commuting distance from our home is a Reform temple that we tried years earlier and did not find particularly welcoming. And, yes, there was a good dose of Jewish guilt thrown in, too. Good Jews affiliated with a congregation; Bad Jews chose not to affiliate. I did not want to be a Bad Jew. So I settled for being a Disconnected Jew.

My first Wexner Summer Institute in Aspen opened my eyes to meaningful prayer options. At first, I wanted to skip the optional morning prayer sessions. Why not catch some extra sleep at the luxurious St. Regis? I didn’t attend morning minyan at home, I reasoned, so why start now? I’m so glad I didn’t take the lazy route. I woke up early, grabbed coffee, and tried the liberal minyan. Coffee is allowed at morning prayers at Wexner, which got me thinking about designing cup holders for pews, but I digress. A-ha! It is possible to gather together, pray, contemplate, and discuss torah in a meaningful way. It is possible for me to engage in ritual that does not feel stale or forced. It is possible to feel a sense of community.

I came to understand that I could connect congregationally, but that my choices back home were not suiting my needs. When I made this observation to a mentor of mine, his response was, "work to change it from within." Easier said than done. Ever petition a synagogue Ritual Committee? Death Row inmates get more due process. Ever try to change a Religious School curriculum or hire a Religious School director? Try wading into that muck for a few weeks.

After a year of soul-searching, I concluded that I cannot (and should not) change the Conservative Movement or my synagogue in particular. In the words of Gandhi, I need to "be the change I want to see in the world." And in this instance, I needed to step away graciously. I am now comfortable in the Land of the Unaffiliated. It may be my permanent residence, but I hope that my family finds the congregational connection we need. First, though, we will engage in a period of denominational palate-cleansing that will renew our focus on home rituals. We’ll research, read, and talk together. Then we are going to explore our options with open hearts and open minds.

I’m proud to say it: I’m a quitter. But I’m taking steps to lead myself toward finding meaning and joy in my Judaism.

See the full report at
http://synagogue3000.org/files/IsraelConversations.pdf

Perhaps the most important message to come out of Synagogue 3000 is its call for synagogues to break with the consumer paradigm. As Lawrence Hoffman has put it, “Whatever authentic Jewish spirituality is, it can find its way into synagogues only if synagogues cease being communities that people join as consumers, buying services with dues” (Rethinking Synagogues, p. 131).

When we put a price tag on synagogue membership, we in effect define membership as a purchase, which turns members into customers. Having made that equation, we cannot blame members for expecting synagogues to organize themselves around the “sovereign self.” When we “buy” something, we value it according to how well it meets our personal needs. The customer is always right. We should not be surprised that members apply that logic to the synagogue, if the synagogue itself frames its work in market terms.

The vocabulary of consumerism is so deeply ingrained in American synagogue life that we often take it for granted. How often do synagogue leaders speak, without irony, of their programs and services as their “product,” and their outreach as “marketing?” But that vocabulary undermines attempts to make the synagogue a place of deeper meaning.  To the extent that synagogues embrace the language of the marketplace – i.e. of private benefit – they find it difficult to speak with credibility of mitzvah. If we wish to revitalize the synagogue, to cultivate a sense of meaning and belonging deeper than a vendor/customer relationship, we must use a different vocabulary.

The call by S3K to move beyond the consumer paradigm resonates very deeply with me, as co-founder (with my wife Rabbi Elana Kanter) of a synagogue that has done that at a very literal level, by eliminating membership dues. When we launched The New Shul in Scottsdale Arizona in 2002, one of our core principles was that membership would not be for sale, and hence all giving would be voluntary. The New Shul’s message on membership was, and is, that financial support is not the price of belonging, but an expression of belonging, part of a broader sense of shared commitment that defines participation in a spiritual community. Our alternative – and we believe the only real alternative – to spiritual consumerism is a culture of mutual responsibility, or, in a word, community. For the past seven years, our members have supported the shul (complete with payroll and building mortgage) entirely on voluntary pledges. Because membership is not a purchase, no one asks  “What am I getting for my money?”

We have found that moving beyond the vocabulary of the market is tremendously validating to those who have the greatest potential to revitalize non-orthodox Judaism, those who are searching for religious meaning in commitments that transcend the self – or, to put it another way, who understand that their deepest need is to be needed. Their sensibility can be called “post-liberal” in that they take their personal autonomy for granted, and hence feel no need to hoard their freedom, to resist commitment. Their autonomy has evolved from freedom from to freedom for. This post-liberalsensibility, in which voluntary obligation is not an oxymoron, is at the heart of the neo-traditionalism that informs many of the new emergent communities that Synagogue 3000 has studied (see Emergent Jewish Communities and Their Participants, Steven M. Cohen et al, 2007). 

To be sure, post-liberal Jews inhabit mainstream synagogues as well. Often, they are the heart and soul of those institutions. But ironically, even as they strengthen mainstream synagogues with their energies, they often find themselves out of sync with those institutions’ public vocabulary. The language of the market, which their synagogues rely on so heavily, does not describe their own involvement.  They pay their dues like everyone else, but they do not think – or at least do not wish to think – of the money as payment for services rendered. They hunger for a language that can give voice to a deeper sense of mitzvah.

Restructuring our synagogues so that they speak the language that those Jews truly wish to speak, that use the vocabulary of shared responsibility, ought to be a priority for us. So I say amen to the call by Synagogue 3000 to transcend the consumer paradigm. 

The picture gets more complicated, however, in that many of the practical prescriptions coming out of SK3 – ostensibly designed to meet that goal – seem to be at odds with that vision. Much of the S3K literature calls for customizing synagogue experiences to individual tastes, and marketing programs to specific interest groups, drawing on the retail and entertainment industries for inspiration.  Lawrence Hoffman, in his model of the non-orthodox “Experience Synagogue,” forgoes any notion of shared commitment (at least as far as worship and/or learning are concerned), and emphasizes personalization instead. He envisions people taking advantage of a wide menu of synagogue offerings according to their individual tastes, much as they shop for clothes (Rethinking Synagogues, pp. 174-175). 

If we ask for no sense of shared responsibility, then aren’t we treating people, in essence, as spiritual consumers? Aren’t we inviting them, in effect, to “buy” spiritual experiences? How does this differ from the paradigm that we are attempting to break with?

I am not suggesting that models like the “Experience Synagogue” have no place. To the contrary, there is clearly value in upgrading the existing consumer paradigm, in offering more attractive programs and services to the tentative and uncommitted. Religious consumerism will be with us for a long time, and, as long as it is, we need to do a better job of – yes, marketing what are in essence spiritual products. My point is not that we should reject that work. It is that, even as we support that work, we must recognize that it is very different from the other task that we have set for ourselves, the task of creating communities that move beyond consumerism. Enhancing the consumer model, figuring out how to do it better, is not the same thing as transcending it.

It seems to me that there is a tension in the Synagogue 3000 literature between means and ends, which calls for clarification.

Choice Does Not Always Mean Consumer Choice

Rabbi Jamie Korngold is the Adventure Rabbi.  An avid skier and lover of the outdoors, she created the Adventure Rabbi program with her husband, Jeff Finkelstein - a mountain climber and expert skier with many years’ experience on ski patrol.  (There are Jews on ski patrol??  Who knew?)  The Adventure Rabbi Program:  A Synagogue Without Walls is a community for Jews who "like to do Jewish" outside.  They celebrate Shabbat and holidays skiing, hiking, camping and learning Jewish texts and values off the beaten track.  The Adventure Rabbi Program is a Jewish community without walls, in which the participants take seriously their responsibility to welcome new people, to learn about each other, to celebrate together, and to study Judaism.  It is a community that brings together all kinds of Jews– the in-married, the out-married and the non-married; men, women, kids; real athletes and some urban folks who don’t mind getting a little shmutzy.  This is a real Jewish community– the kind I would want to join! And most interestingly, it is a community where lots of folks who usually feel unwelcome in synagogues - single 25-45 year old women and men (hello??!! anybody seen these guys in a synagogue recently?) want to learn, share, participate, and help build a Jewish community.  

How on earth did an urban rabbi such as myself stumble upon these outdoor Jews?  Rabbi Korngold was invited to participate in S3K’s Emergent network - a group of innovative rabbis building unusual Jewish communities.

So, as I followed Jamie onto the trail through the wildflowers, we talked about Jewish prayer.  Judaism has done a lousy job over the years of creating a prayer language that feels accessible.  Think about it, our images of God from our liturgy are not images most of us can identify with:  Who is this God on high who took us out from slavery with an outstretched arm?…  And what does that even mean?  Now we’re faced with the reality that going to shul and sitting through services is not meaningful to many people either because they have no personal internal prayer life at all or because they do, but they’d rather be somewhere other than a synagogue to pray.  Synagogue membership is down.  Young people, in general, are not joining synagogues– especially not the unmarried ones– and very especially not the guys. BUT,  we so want community, we want to celebrate Shabbat together, we want to learn about Judaism, we want to build meaningful Jewish identities - and we crave the relationships both bein adam l’chavero - between people - and bein adam l’makom - between us and  God - that Jewish communities can help us build.  

What does this have to do with the Rocky Mountains?  I’ll tell you.  Here’s what Jamie and I talked about on our hike:  The wilderness allows people to use vocabulary that would feel cheesy, sappy or otherwise overly poetic anywhere else.  In nature, we’re allowed to use words of awe.  It’s the only place where that vocabulary is widely accepted and can be used by "in," "out" and "non"-marrieds and by women AND men.  Exclamations of wonder and awe are easy to say and hear when standing next to a hanging glacier or a tiny purple wildflower growing up from the parched desert.  People get used to using vocabulary that expresses gratitude, awareness, searching when we’re surrounded by nature. And once those words enter our vocabulary and we feel safe using them…  they can be used in a Jewish context, too.  How easy it is to be thankful for beauty that we see, to raise questions about the inexplicable, to ask for help climbing over a huge boulder when we’ve all agreed that awe-language is appropriate.

And not only that. Once it’s ok to share the beauty, the questions, the scale of things, we realize that we’re a part of it - tiny in some ways, mighty in others - and all dependent on each other.  Walking up what seemed like a vertical wall of slickrock in Moab, I looked up to find a hand waiting to help me, before I ever had to ask.

Rabbi Jessica Zimmerman
Director, Congregational Engagement

Although eschatology is not emphasized in Judaism, there is a recurring metaphor in rabbinic literature of a “heavenly tribunal,” an accounting of one’s actions on earth. For 2,000 years, rabbis have imagined what questions might be asked at such a trial. Astonishingly, one sage, Rava, imagines the very first question you are asked in heaven is: “Were you honest in your business dealings?”

In the months since the Madoff story broke, clergy have weighed in on the lessons of the scandal in hundreds of sermons. Some have focused on the pain of the victims, others on the greed of the perpetrator. Most conclude with exhortations regarding the importance of business ethics. Priests and rabbis, imams and pastors, have used the Madoff case as an opportunity to remind their congregants that trust and accountability are the bedrock values of business.

Why on earth — or rather, why in heaven’s name — would the first question one is asked in heaven be about business? Because it’s not just about business. The question is about honesty, integrity, faithfulness. If you are not honest in your business dealings, can you be trusted to be honest in other relationships? If you are not honest with others, can you be honest with yourself? If you are not faithful with others, can your faith in God be trusted?

The idea that those entrusted with other people’s money have a fiduciary responsibility to safeguard and account for it dates back to the Bible itself. When the Israelites receive the Ten Commandments, God instructs Moses to solicit gifts from “every person whose heart so moves him.” These gifts are then to be used for building a Tabernacle, an elaborate sanctuary fashioned from precious metals, stones and wood.

It is quite the construction project, requiring significant contributions of treasure from the people. When it is completed, Moses gives a detailed public accounting of the expenditures.

Why? Wouldn’t the people have trusted their great leader?

Some commentators imagine that the people did not trust Moses. Others suggest that Moses anticipated the accusations, taking upon himself a process of accountability in order to pre-empt the suspicions of others. In either case, the clear lesson is that leaders of a community must avoid any hint of personal aggrandizement when entrusted with public funds.

Madoff committed another offense, in addition to stealing: He brought shame upon the Jewish people. Many of the charities and nonprofit organizations losing hundreds of millions of dollars served the Jewish community, including the foundation of Nobel laureate Elie Wiesel.

Since the Madoff confession, the Jewish community has gone through much anguish and soul searching. How could a Jew perpetrate this devastating fraud on fellow Jews, including major foundations and institutions that have been obliterated in one fell swoop? Madoff made a mockery of the notion that all Jews are responsible for each other.

These are some of the questions Bernard Madoff will be contemplating in prison as he serves out his sentence. Although we may not witness his next trial, the one before the heavenly court, it is not difficult to imagine what his sentence will be.

original post at http://jta.org/news/article/2009/06/30/1006226/bernie-madoffs-next-trial

Rabbi Lawrence A. Hoffman

Why?” we ask, when people act outrageously, “Why in the world would you do that?”

The answer almost always is, “Because….” And that answer is usually wrong.

“Because,” translates into, “Here is the cause.” But people rarely do things on account of causes. More often they act on account of reasons. We do well to note the difference.

In this week’s Torah portion, Korach and Company rise up against Moses with the plaint, “Enough already! The entire congregation is holy…. Who are you to lord yourself over the congregation of God?” The dispute arises when Moses hands over the priesthood to one family rather than another. Enough was enough for Korach; Moses had gone too far.

The priesthood decision was the cause of the rebellion. It was not, however, the reason behind it.

A cause is some objective event, something that happens, a decision made to resolve a crisis. A reason is the subjective baggage people bring to the cause. The cause is singular. Reasons are multiple; they vary from person to person; and they are not always healthy. Healthy reasons address the cause and its likelihood of solving the crisis; unhealthy reasons reflect deep-seated fears and insecurities. Korach’s claim “The entire congregation is holy” is a healthy reason; “Who are you to Lord yourself over the congregation” is not.

Unhealthy reasoning dissipates any chance of coalescing around reasonable positions. Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Kalischer gets it right: “It doesn’t say ‘Korach and the others separated themselves,’ but ‘Korach [singular] separated himself.’ That is because each rebel had a different interest in the matter.” That, add most commentators, is why it was not “an argument for the sake of heaven.” The “cause” was just the excuse for prompting old animosities, prior agendas, and personal insecurities: all of them unhealthy reasons, not healthy ones.

If the cause were the only thing that mattered, a healthy conversation about it (citing healthy reasons only) would produce a solution. But unhealthy reasons get in the way, and they are harder to address because they go unspoken, and, usually, unrecognized, even by the parties themselves. When unhealthy reasons get the best of us, the healthy ones go on vacation. Some synagogue boards attract and reward “unhealthy reasoners,” and when they do, the healthy reasoners don’t run for office.

There are three variables, actually: “cause,” “reason” and “crisis.” The cause of the debate is an action someone takes (or threatens to take) to solve a crisis. The crisis here, say some of our commentators, was the golden calf, which prompted Moses to change the “organizational structure” of the Israelite camp by reassigning the priesthood. That decision would have solved the crisis, but when Moses mentioned it, people with unhealthy reasons made it into a cause. Knowing God would demolish his enemies in an earthquake, Moses had it easy. How do we handle controversy when — alas for the good guys – God has retired from the earthquake business?

Take the case of Congregation Nameless. The executive officers proposed solving the current economic crisis by cutting programs. A healthy board would have debated the proposal with healthy reasons, like the potential impact of the cuts on synagogue life.

But the debate included unhealthy reasons that got swept under the table rather than faced. A sure sign was the fact that people acted rudely toward each other, sometimes interrupting and even shouting. Rancorous debate carried over from the board meetings onto email and into shopping lines at the local grocery store.

The Education chair, for example, noted that a smaller budget meant less education, but said nothing about her underlying insecurity: her need for recognition. House Committee members stood firm in their plan to enlarge the sanctuary – if that got cut, their many hours spent would be in vain, and they would become irrelevant to the congregation’s immediate future.

That’s the way it works: from crisis to cause to reasons. Discussion on the cause can never allay the “reasonable” fears of the parties if the reasons running the discussion are unhealthy. And we all have unhealthy reasons. We just don’t always recognize them.

Torah calls our unhealthy reasons the yetser hara – “the evil inclination” that makes us human. Since we all have them, we should not be embarrassed by them. Being unembarrassed by them, we can admit them and put them aside. We can even chuckle a bit about them, when we see them acting up (and ourselves acting out). Banishing unhealthy reasons allows healthy ones to debate the actual cause and solve the crisis.

In Congregation Nameless, unhealthy reasons still go unchecked. It is a real place, incidentally. A year has gone by and it is still fighting. And I remember its name, come to think of it. It is Congregation B’nai Korach.