New series: The Jew in the Christian World

Jewish Family Education with Candace R. Kwiatek, The Dayton Jewish Observer

What can we learn from a house of worship? Interested in exploring a variety of religious experiences, my friend Atarah recently visited a nearby church. She noted that there was a sanctuary, a library, and two small side rooms, but no social hall or kitchen. When she asked a congregant about their absence, he responded, “Church is a place where we gather to worship God, not to eat or socialize.”

These architectural details and this religious perspective echo those of Constantine’s early churches, the medieval Gothic cathedrals in Europe, and the split-log meeting houses on the American frontier: emotionally and spiritually uplifting God-centered worship in a morally-supportive community is the primary focus of religious life.

The word church, from the Greek and Germanic meaning “of the Lord, or Lord’s (house),” accurately indicates its purpose. The inclusion of meeting rooms, dining halls, kitchens, religious schools, and other facilities didn’t appear in churches until the late 1800s, according to Jeanne Kilde in When Church Became Theatre, “to serve as a counterattraction to saloons and other ‘improper places’” and later as a response to “marketplace theology,” the modern design and use of space and resources for the transcendent.

The synagogue, however, is not a Jewish church. Reflecting its archetypal multi-purpose nature, the synagogue is variously referred to as beyt knesset (house of assembly), beyt limmud or shul (house of study or school), beyt tefillah or shtiebel (house of prayer), or temple (an echo of the historical Temple in Jerusalem).

The Greek meaning aptly captures the communal nature of these various functions in the term synagogue, meaning assembly, meeting, or gathering.

From its very beginnings, Jewish tradition has woven together the activities of assembly and socialization, study and deeds, food and prayer. Shortly after his circumcision, the biblical Abraham invited three travelers into his tent for a meal followed by conversations with God.

In Egypt and again in the wilderness, Moses revealed God’s command to observe the Exodus by gathering together, eating matzah, and teaching the story to future generations. The wilderness Tabernacle and the later Jerusalem Temples were places to assemble, pray (sacrifice), eat, and learn.

In ancient Israel as today, the Torah was read in public, core prayers required at least 10 participants (a minyan), traditional Jewish study was done in chevruta (partnership), and festival celebrations were with family and friends over a meal.

While its origins are unclear, the synagogue’s development can be traced through ancient writings and archaeological remains, the oldest of which are found in Israel (Masada), Turkey, Macedonia, and Egypt (Alexandria), all from the time of the Second Temple more than 2,000 years ago. They suggest the synagogue became a permanent institution for public gathering, study, and worship during the time of the Babylonian exile (sixth century B.C.E.).

Imported to Israel by the returnees to Jerusalem, synagogues by the hundreds served as places of study, prophetic readings, and prayer gatherings alongside the newly rebuilt Second Temple’s sacrificial cult.

Following the Roman destructions of Jerusalem and Judah (first and second centuries), the exiled Jews turned to the synagogue as the heart of their widely-dispersed communities.

As they adopted the cultural practices of their host countries, the most visible expression of their Judaism became communal synagogue worship. Yet, architecture that included open sanctuary spaces and moveable desks suggests that the synagogue’s role as a center for study — variously influenced by the academies and scholars from Yavneh, Babylonia, Spain, and Europe — was equally significant.

Along with its progressive attitudes toward women’s roles, reason and secular learning, and modern Hebrew and Zionism, the Jewish Enlightenment in 18th- and 19th-century Europe brought about significant changes in the liberal synagogue, reflected in its architecture. The relocation of the bima (platform for leading services) from the center to the front of the sanctuary created a greater division between leader and congregant and heightened attendees’ spiritual lassitude.

The replacement of desks and moveable seating with stationary benches and sideline classrooms demoted the equal status of worship and study, weakening their dual calls to learning expressed through action, and hastening the trend toward a juvenile Judaism.

The duties of the rabbi as Jewish scholar, teacher, adjudicator, and social/spiritual leader expanded to include secular scholar, prayer leader, life-cycle officiant, pastoral caregiver, leadership coach, human resources director, financial manager, community volunteer and more, necessitating an entire office complex within the synagogue.

The desire of the synagogue to imitate the church’s central role in religious life isolated the spiritual from the everyday and marginalized the Jewish home.

By narrowing its primary identity to “a place for worship,” I would argue, the modern synagogue has ceased to be authentic. It was designed to be about people, a place of assembly, meeting, or gathering in which to build relationships with oneself, one another, and God. Study, worship, deeds, and even food were only pathways to that end.

We need to re-purpose the spaces and schedules in our synagogues to reflect a balance among study, worship, and deeds. We need to develop chavurot, home-based gatherings for the same purposes, modeled after the wildly successful “house church” movement.

We need to encourage and support the uninvolved in developing original Jewish pathways to building relationships. We need to return our rabbis to being teachers and cultivate lay ministries within our congregations.

Let us return our synagogues to being universally participatory sacred communities where we gather to transform ourselves and care for one another through study, prayer, and deeds in equal measure.

Family Discussion: In what way could a “relational synagogue” create more balance in your Jewish life?

Literature to share

Relational Judaism by Dr. Ron Wolfson: To explore in greater depth the ideas of community building, synagogue transformation, and “relational Judaism,” look no further than this highly-acclaimed, easy-to-read volume and its complement, The Spirituality of Welcoming: How to Transform Your Congregation into a Sacred Community, by the same author.

Fire in My Ears by Susan Schneider: This many-layered tale from the Russian shtetl to post-war America is the tragic saga of a woman who relies on beauty and deception, making life choices that shatter three generations. Despite the centrality of despair and dysfunction, the love between the aging matriarch and her granddaughter is a glimmer of hope for the future.

The Whispering Town by Jennifer Elvgren: In simple words and neutral-toned sketches, The Whispering Town recounts the story of a Danish fishing town that cleverly rescued its Jews from the Nazis. Based on a true event, it’s highly recommended for upper elementary and middle school ages.

To read the complete March 2015 Dayton Jewish Observer, click here.