In the beginning, God.
In the beginning there was nothing but God, Ein Sof, limitless being. God was the entirety of the universe and the universe contained nothing but God. This being the case, there was no room for anything else. Since God wanted to create the physical universe—including us—God had to step back and contract inward to create a space for the world to exist.
God then poured pure divine energy into this new space to build creation, using spiritual “vessels” to contain the light.
However, the divine light was far too intense. The lower containers couldn’t handle the power, and they shattered like glass under extreme heat.
Within the broken pieces—the shards, which became the physical world and also our worst human tendencies such as hatred and greed—sparks of divine light were trapped. These sparks—nitzotzot—long to return to their origin point with God.
Our world is incomplete and broken. Our task is to liberate the sparks from their prison in the shards and allow them to reunite with their divine Source. This is quite literally tikkun olam—mending the world. When people perform mitzvot, sparks of divine light are liberated and the universe inches closer to complete peace and harmony. All human beings can participate in this task of repair, but we Jews have a special role. God gave humanity as a whole only seven mitzvot—sheva mitzvot B’nei Noach or the Noahide Laws. We Jews have 613 mitzvot, so we have that many more opportunities to release sparks.
This in a nutshell is the story of creation and the task of humanity according to the Kabbalah of Rabbi Isaac Luria, developed in Safed, Israel, in the 16th century. Some of us are studying these ideas in my Adult Education class on “The Essential Kabbalah.”
While these mystical concepts may seem worlds apart from the daily realities of synagogue life, they actually provide a powerful lens for our own moment. Just as the universe required contraction—tzimtzum—to create space for something new, Kehilat Shalom must undergo its own contraction: not as an end, but as a deliberate clearing of space for a new mission.
I began my rabbinic career as a Hillel director. Throughout my Hillel career the International Director was a charismatic modern Orthodox ex-prosecutor named Richard Joel, who after 15 years at the helm of Hillel became president of Yeshiva University. Richard fervently believed that Hillel needed to be mission-driven if students were to participate and philanthropists to fund it. I often heard him say “come survive with us” is not the kind of slogan that was going to draw people in. There had to be something more, something which filled people’s lives with meaning.
According to our letterhead and website and my business cards, Kehilat Shalom’s slogan is “Where Friends Become Family.” But as long as I have been here, our real slogan has been “come survive with us.” You know the story—a building bigger than we need and more expensive than we can afford; the changing demographics of Upcounty, Maryland meaning fewer Jewish families with school-age kids living nearby; the changing demographics of the Greater Washington Jewish community meaning fewer and finally no kids in our religious school; and religious trends in the United States from which the Jewish community is not immune which see moderate or mainstream religious groups shrinking.
The broader demographic trends tell a clear story. While the local Jewish population has grown significantly in recent decades, formal synagogue affiliation has steadily dropped, leaving the vast majority of Jewish children and families without any connection to Jewish educational life. The old institutional model is contracting everywhere; simply trying to maintain legacy structures is no longer a viable path.
All this means that there are a lot of Jews out there who are not involved in Jewish life. While most of them are not interested in joining a synagogue, they also say they are proud to be Jewish and would welcome opportunities to participate in Jewish activities.
It also means that we faced annual deficits in the tens of thousands of dollars, sometimes more. So, we decided to sell our building. The decision to sell this building was not easy, but it was necessary. Our reserves were depleted, we had cut our budget to the bone, and if we wanted to continue as a congregation we had to monetize the only resource we had left—this building.
I am not sure why a few decades ago we chose the name “Kehilat Shalom” but I do think it was a wise and fortunate decision. Unlike congregations named “Temple This” or “XYZ Synagogue,” the name Kehilat Shalom emphasizes that we exist to support each other’s Jewish journeys as a community—a kehillah—not to support a building.
While mainstream Reform and Conservative synagogue membership has declined in recent decades, the exception to this trend is Chabad. In the last twenty years, the number of freestanding US Chabad centers has grown from 350 to over a thousand. In Montgomery County, there have been six new Chabad centers established since 2005. Meanwhile, United Synagogue (Conservative movement) member congregations went from about 720 in 2005 to about 560 today. Union for Reform Judaism member congregations went from 910 to 815.
Why is Chabad growing when others are shrinking? This is a question that Conservative rabbis and lay leaders ask frequently. There may be many factors, but I think one is that Chabad has different goals than other communities.
Conservative, Reform, and other standard congregations have as their goal getting people to become members. Chabad has the goal of getting people to perform mitzvot.
About 3 in 10 adult Jews in the DC area belong to synagogues—a little bit lower than the national figure of four in 10. When Jews who don’t belong to synagogues are asked why, the most frequently cited reason was that they are “not religious;” other reasons were the high cost of synagogue membership, having a non-Jewish spouse, and not having children at home.
Most of these reasons can be rebutted pretty easily. I regularly have discussions with congregants which begin with “Rabbi, I’m not religious but…” Almost every synagogue has some sort of process for reduced dues for those who can’t afford full dues or simply have other financial priorities. We have members married to non-Jews who lead services, participate in governance and have even served as president. Nevertheless, because Conservative rabbis cannot officiate at a marriage between a Jew and a non-Jew and we affirm that only a child with a Jewish mother is born a Jew, we are often perceived as hostile to Jews with a non-Jewish spouse. And while there is a way to have your dues reduced quite drastically if you can’t afford the published rate, many congregations require you to fill out forms, meet with a committee, and sometimes even produce your tax returns. While our process is much more casual, it still requires you to discuss your finances with another congregant. People often assume I know how much they pay in dues or donate to the synagogue, although I purposely do not have access to that information.
Standard synagogue models often focus on a transaction: paying dues in exchange for membership. But true spiritual engagement requires a transformation: a deep, shared commitment to living Jewish values and performing mitzvot together.
Chabad’s approach to Judaism is clearly Orthodox, but many Chabad attendees identify with a non-Orthodox denomination or no denomination at all. When asked why they go to Chabad, published studies often cite the lack of financial barriers (Chabads don’t have membership); a perceived non-judgmental attitude towards Jews who drive on Shabbat, don’t keep kosher, can’t read Hebrew, etc.; a la carte programming (take what you want and pay what you can); and that they don’t require a certain number of years of Hebrew school before your son can have a Bar Mitzvah.
It would be naive to think that Chabad doesn’t need money. A few days ago, I received a fundraising email from Chabad that asked me to contribute a multiple of 18 from $180 to $3600 and be listed on their Caring Wall. Chabad has bills and staff costs like any other organization. Those who attend and can afford it are often quite generous, but their fundraising model is more philanthropic and less membership-oriented.
Why do they function so differently, and why are they so successful? Because they understand that the purpose of a Jewish community is not to support a building, and it isn’t just to survive. We Jews have a purpose, or as the Blues Brothers said, “We’re on a mission from God.” The goal of a Jewish community is to help Jews perform mitzvot. It’s not to get Jews to sign up as members and then to collect their dues. At Chabad, they truly believe that when mitzvot are performed, sparks are released and the universe moves closer to redemption. That’s what we are here for.
The income from the sale of this building will provide us a financial cushion that will allow us to do things differently. Some things we try will work, others might not. But we no longer have to worry that if we try something and it doesn’t work out, that means the end of Kehilat Shalom.
There are 11 Conservative synagogues in Montgomery County, and nearly all are struggling. There are non-Orthodox congregations in various places which are thriving but are doing things that cost money and may not see a return on investment for several years, if ever. A few months ago, I was describing my vision of what we could become to the rabbi of another shul in Montgomery County and he said, “You have the great opportunity to create a non-Orthodox Chabad.”
He was right. We might have a different idea about what is or isn’t a mitzvah, but we should affirm that our community exists to help Jews perform mitzvot and release the divine sparks.
We believe that a woman leading services, reading Torah, or putting on tefillin is just as much a mitzvah as a man doing those same things. We believe that love between two men or two women is just as holy as that between a man and a woman. We believe it’s a mitzvah to help feed hungry Jews. But it’s also a mitzvah to feed our hungry neighbors who aren’t Jews. We believe that tikkun olam happens when Jews daven or study Torah or keep Shabbat and release divine sparks. But we also believe that tikkun olam happens when we welcome the immigrant, when we help the stranger, or when we devote ourselves to the health of the planet that God has entrusted to our care.
We are done with “Come survive with us.” From this day forward, our mission is to ignite the world. We are here to perform mitzvot, to liberate every divine spark, and to join in the sacred work of mending our broken universe. The space has been cleared. The work is waiting. Are you ready? Let’s get started. Shanah Tovah.