Out of Juice
Of all the forms of modern Judaism, I’m afraid that my version is the least adaptable. Its history over the last couple of decades is a story of plainly inexorable contraction. We used to be a movement of about eight hundred congregations, shrunken now to half that number. There’s someone out there who will quibble with those figures and all the data points in this short round-up. But the general picture is distressingly clear. The movement called Conservative Judaism is in a state of unstoppable decline.
And it’s not just in the number of congregations. While synagogues close or consolidate with others, we have essentially abandoned our program for college students and pulled back on efforts in middle and high school. No one seems to be paying attention to supplementary (“Hebrew”) school, which is where most of our students used to be educated. If there is a bright spot in our work with young people, it’s the summer program offered through the Camps Ramah. But its most recent statement about a vision for the future seemed to downplay its connection with Conservative Judaism. It’s as if it wanted to free itself from a rotting carcass and be seen as its own independent entity.
The picture is no better when it comes to leadership. Consolidation at the top leaves us understaffed, with too few people doing too many jobs. Our West Coast seminary has closed its campus and relocated to an office building somewhere in Hollywood. The East Coast branch is now searching for a chancellor who is expected to energize the whole of the movement. We will be very lucky if that comes to pass.
But even if the pattern of consolidation continues, we are failing in our efforts to recruit rabbis and cantors. Precious few are in the current pipeline, and those who are seem to be averse to pulpit work. The number fluctuates year by year, but there were 30 or so students in my graduating class. There are fewer than that in the whole program in Los Angeles.
The result is a set of rickety efforts, masquerading as bright new ideas. My seminary has just announced an MA program for high-aspiring lay people who’d like to work in synagogues. It looks like a kind of low-residency correspondence course to prepare para-professionals for needy congregations. It will train its students in the liturgical skills that have previously been the job of rabbis and cantors. The degree will be called “Liturgical Leadership” and it will cost $50,000 for an uncertain career path.
There’s something here that is right and promising. I am always attracted to democratization, and I have seen superlative work in this area by gifted lay people who have the chops to stand before a congregation. They are imaginative music-makers with the capacity to lead, and some are making transformative change. I’m looking at you, Joey Weisenberg on the Upper West Side. I see you, Duvid Swirsky and Sally Dworsky in Los Angeles.
But I believe that the rabbinate is full-time work and that, in order to flourish, congregations need rabbis who are learned, inquisitive, curious, and visionary. Where is our cadre of masterful professionals, recruited by people with persuasive passion? I wish I could say that I have been all these things, but there will always be value in a richly-educated pro.
The short version here is that we are looking forlornly into an open grave in the history of the Jews. It will take learning, brilliance and powerful charisma to bring our poor movement back to life. Our seminary’s new program may fit the bill, but forgive me for saying that I am not yet convinced.