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A Conservative Jew Goes Reform

by Judith Hauptman
Special To The Jewish Week
On a recent Friday night I, a Conservative Jew and rabbi, had occasion
to daven at Central Synagogue in Manhattan, a large Reform
congregation housed in a stunning Moorish building. Arriving a few
minutes after 6 p.m., I had trouble finding an empty place to sit. To
my surprise, 500 people of all ages were already seated, with prayer
books open, singing and keeping time with their feet. Three rabbis and
two cantors were leading the service, with instrumental accompaniment.
The cantors alternated between Friday-night traditional chanting
(nusach) and contemporary melodies. Also surprising to me, we recited
almost all the prayers in Hebrew, with only a few interspersed English
readings.
Following Kabbalat Shabbat and Ma'ariv (the two main parts of the
service), there was
an abbreviated Torah service — even though it was not Saturday
morning. The way it began startled me. Two of the rabbis each took a
Torah scroll from the ark and headed separately down the long aisles.
(The third rabbi was off leading a "mishpahah" service for the kids.)
As they passed, they chatted with congregants. This happens in most
synagogues but never have I seen the procession take so long, perhaps
10 minutes. Rather than stand silently waiting for their turn to kiss
the Torah, people began talking to each other. So I, too, entered into
conversation with the young man next to me, also there by himself,
and, as it turns out, a Friday-night regular. I suddenly realized that
this gap in the service was part of the plan: by taking so long to
bring the Torah around, the rabbis were encouraging us to talk to each
other, to form a community. No one was going to be able to come by
herself, sit through the service, and leave without speaking to anyone
else. Formality was out; warmth was in.
Right before the Mourner's Kaddish, the rabbi mentioned with sorrow
the recent passing of two Orthodox rabbis and read the names of
American soldiers killed in action in Iraq. I was deeply moved by
these pluralistic and patriotic statements.
The entire service took 70 minutes. It touched the heart, mind and
soul. I danced my way home.
Was I jealous of this Reform congregation? Very much so. As I look to
Orthodoxy on the right and Reform on the left, I see vitality. People
are streaming into synagogues — either because they feel obligated or
motivated to do so. Adherence to halacha works for Orthodoxy, and
freedom to rethink liturgy works for Reform. Both approaches are
keeping Jews Jewish and that is what matters.
So what is the message for Jews in the middle? What can Conservative
Judaism, which lies between the two poles, offer to people? Unlike
Reform, we won't shorten prayers or introduce musical instruments. It
is against halacha to do so and we, as a movement, accept halacha as
binding. But the majority of our members don't, and our shuls, it is
painful to point out, are growing more and more empty. It is also
troubling that many of our young people who are serious about prayer
find the typical Conservative service boring. They opt out and form
their own minyanim to meet their Jewish needs.
I don't have an easy response to these challenges. But here is one
suggestion: In the coming year, Conservative rabbis and laypeople
should visit at least 10 synagogues other than their own, some
Orthodox, some Reform, and some independent minyanim. We should see
what works elsewhere and then try to adapt successful strategies to
our own communities. This may be only a small step but, as the rabbis
teach, even if we are not obligated to finish the job, we are
duty-bound to begin. n
Rabbi Judith Hauptman is a professor of Talmud at the Jewish
Theological Seminary.