Relational Judaism (I): Free Yourself from Programming!

We were slaves in Egypt

Once, we were slaves in Egypt.

Even now though, when one yomtov is followed quickly by another, and the drumbeat of programming beats relentlessly, those of us involved in running shul communities might feel enslaved if not by the calendar, then by the apparent need to constantly produce programming.

It doesn’t have to be this way. And the first Pinsker-like step is one of auto-emancipation, to say to ourselves that “programming is not the answer”. See whether you agree…

Photo by Riccardo via Pexels

Creating Sacred Communities

Dr Ron Wolfson is an American Jewish educator who believes that shuls should focus on fostering connections between Jews. Connections between organisations and members, or rabbinic staff and members, are not as important, says Wolfson.

His latest book (written with R' Brett Kopin) Creating Sacred Communities explores how fostering connections between Jews can transform shuls into “relational communities”. But according to Wolfson, “the twentieth-century model of synagogue really lost that notion of relationship being at the centre of our work. Instead, many synagogues used programming as the engagement strategy.”

Wolfson believes that synagogues should make efforts to ensure that ‘relational Judaism’ runs through everything we do. (In Project Welcome terms, relational Judaism should be the ‘mission’ of our shuls).

What does this mean in practice? Says Wolfson, “Every time you gather people, there needs to be a relational moment, a relational strategy. If people leave an event, a worship experience, a programme and they haven’t met anybody, if no one has asked their story, even if there has been good learning, as far as I’m concerned, it’s been a wasted opportunity.”

Programming is not the answer

As we continue our recovery from Covid, it is tempting to rely heavily on more, bigger and better programming; to hope that a deluxe kiddush, or series of shiurim will turn (or reform) disengaged Jews into committed or integrated members. The ‘transactional model’ focuses on getting people to attend our shuls to engage with the output that we have created.

This model inadvertently prioritises the interests of the shul, of the organisation over the individual. When we measure success by attendance or ticket sales, we cement this prioritisation. The measurability of attendance and ticket sales is a key quality, but communities are not built on figures, or on people when they are reduced to customers.

The transactional model is anathema to relational Judaism because under this model, even if friendships and connections are formed or deepened at an event, these are side-effects of the programming rather than inherent characteristics. In any case, a barrage of events laid on for the express sake of filling seats or tables, will probably only attract people already engaged.

Wolfson’s view is that only relationships – not bigger or even better programmes – can allow Jewish organisations to sustainably increase our impact and strength. Therefore, relationships should be at the heart of our programming, to the exclusion of ticket sales, press coverage, profit, rave reviews or anything else.

One of Wolfson’s contributors recommends that we put to one side our output, our needs and even our organisational survival, and refocus entirely on individuals. This way, communal strength lies. “The question… is not ‘What could the synagogue do that would be of interest to you?’ The questions are ‘Who are you? What’s your Jewish story? What inspires you, what turns you off?’”

Once we are people-orientated, we can move on from transactional programming.

The Yom Kippur paradigm and the Pesach paradigm

It’s easy to snipe at transactional programming, but how do we build relationships not just between Jews and rabbinic staff, but between individuals, their families and wider circles?

One of Wolfson’s contributors uses Yom Kippur as an example of “an institutional relationship that gets you in the door”, complete with marketing, ticketing and payment. The content is formal, unchanging and ceremonial. Hopefully, the result is a sense of awe, continuity and humbleness before G-d, for a large group of people with almost insurmountably different backgrounds, attitudes, levels of Jewish literacy and spiritual needs. For Yom Kippur, this impersonal paradigm works. But when the same top-down method informs the structure of other shul output, it is often inappropriate.

Compare Yom Kippur with Pesach. If Seder night followed the Yom Kippur model, we might not be at home at all, spilling wine or bashing each other with spring onions, but in shul listening to rabbis talking dryly about Egyptology.

Photo by Kelsey Chance via Unsplash

Of course, Pesach is completely different to Yom Kippur. Seder is the heart of the festival, moreso than shul. Invitations to Seder are personal. One doesn’t buy tickets to other people’s houses. The setting is usually decentralised, small-scale and often domestic. Content is provided by the attendees, even those who can barely read. Participants can draw on texts or personal anecdote because Seder night is designed to be comparatively informal and spontaneous. The Haggadah provides a framework, but many voices are heard and there is as much ‘asking’ as ‘telling’. Meaning is provided by everyone present, not just the most learned or ‘Jewishly-skilled’. And through meaning, comes connection. Seder night is built for relational Judaism.

Seder night sparks interactions and relationships between those present, not between an organisation and a congregation as a group, or even between a rabbi or rebbetzen and their congregants. But these relationships can be built on by organisations and rabbinic staff: shuls can facilitate and prosper through them.

Every night can be Seder night

Happily, community leaders are well-positioned to direct their communities towards moulding more of their output in the Pesach model. The Seder engages everyone, and connections are made; this intention and result should be pursued without embarrassment. When we are designing our programming, we should unselfconsciously engineer as many opportunities for people to make connections between each other. That's our job: filling tables is for restaurants, and selling tickets is for cinemas.

We have to consider relationship-forming as a core priority for all our output. There is a great deal of work involved in building output around fostering personal connections and I hope to address this in later posts. I'm under no illusions that the work is easy. But by putting ourselves into the mindset of the Pesach paradigm, we can begin to free ourselves from ‘slavery’ to the relentless grind of putting on programming merely for the sake of programming.

---

This post is based on thoughts contained in Creating Sacred Communities: Leading Practitioners Share Lessons Learned by Dr. Ron Wolfson and R' Brett Kopin, published by The Kripke Institute (2022), a book I thoroughly recommend.