It has been said we Jews are a hopelessly communal people. We want to belong, to feel noticed and needed. Yet, we participate in so many communities that we feel only an attenuated sense of allegiance to any one group.
The soccer team, the civic group, professional associations, the boy scouts and brownies — each of these lays partial claim to our attention, based on a limited set of mutual interests.
We relate to each group as a consumer. The synagogue, however, is different; it’s a community of covenant. Relating to a community as a consumer is different than relating to it as a covenantal partner.
Where the consumer approach to community is transactional, the covenantal approach is relational. Where the consumer approach is contingent, the covenantal approach is committed. Where the consumer approach is individualistic, the covenantal approach is communal.
In contrast to the consumer approach, the synagogue is intended to be a covenantal community of caring, a place where each person is noticed and valued, her accomplishments communally celebrated, his losses collectively mourned.
There should be in the synagogue a home for every Jew, irrespective of color, sex, status as an interfaith family, age or sexual orientation. Such a radically inclusive approach to community not only strengthens our community. It models Judaism’s most central and enduring values of justice and compassion.
The synagogue as a covenantal community is not only a place to feel a sense of belonging. When we get involved, we often receive much more than we give.
The synagogue is also a place to explore one’s beliefs. As Jews, we tend to stress the importance of action over belief, but our space for communal gathering is a place to openly explore our relationships with God. The spiritual quest is alive and well and openly embraced. Fellow spiritual seekers abound.
Today’s challenge to belief centers less on the nature of God and more on the truth of the Torah’s moral message. In our world of cultural relativism, we are taught that what’s right for you may be right for you and wrong for me. When subjected to the caveat of relativity, the Ten Commandments can be reduced to the Ten Suggestions.
It has become impolitic to express the belief that the Torah speaks clearly and universally about what’s right and wrong. Indeed, I feel the Torah didn’t get it right every time, e.g. the death penalty for Sabbath desecrators or homosexual relations, but Jewish law provides a corrective when science supercedes erroneous ancient assumptions.
Occasional errors aside, the Torah provides a framework for justice that seeks True with a capital “T” and ought not be marginalized through the lens of multiculturalism. To assert there is an ultimate right and wrong might not be politically correct, but it is the irreducible essence of Prophetic Judaism, and if we consider that message seriously, we’ll be doubly motivated to act on our beliefs, to bring justice and compassion to the world.
Finally, the synagogue provides not only a place to belong and act on our beliefs. It also is a place to become. Just as Judaism is not a static set of beliefs and behavior, but rather is constantly evolving, each of us is somewhere on our “Jewish journey.”
No matter where you are on that journey — even if you’re at the beginning — the synagogue provides a place to experiment, to learn, to reflect, explore and discover, to be empowered, and to experience life enriched with a sense of meaning and a sense of purpose.
Belonging. Believing. Becoming — three intrinsic human needs, each of which can be met through involvement in the synagogue.
If you already are a part of a synagogue community, consider becoming more involved. If you aren’t, think seriously about the ways the synagogue can add meaning and purpose to your life, as well as the contribution your presence can make to the ongoing vitality of the Jewish people.
Rabbi David Cohen is spiritual leader of Congregation Sinai.
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