Inclusivity, diversity, initiative, age, energy, politics, spirituality, Israel, costs, and most especially, authenticity. These are among the main reasons many young Jews are having a difficult time connecting to mainstream, establishment Jewish institutions, but seem to be finding their Jewish “home” in new, alternative, and independent frameworks across the United States.

Seth, 25, detached himself from organized Jewish life because he felt like his critical and nuanced position on Israel was not being heard or considered. He felt that the Hillel at his university and the surrounding mainstream community were reflexively defensive and one-sided on Israel. At the same time, Seth felt that the “BDS crowd” was similarly one-sided against Israel, and neither offered him a home. Seth, a transgender man who identifies with the LGBTQ community, is in a relationship with an individual who converted to Judaism, and has found his Jewish home in Mishkan, an emergent community, and Svara, a queer yeshiva, both in Chicago. Seth assumed that mainstream communities and institutions would not be welcoming of his positions on Israel, his gender identity, and his interfaith relationship.

Hanah, 26, connected to Jewish life through Moishe House in Minneapolis. She described her challenge in finding a warm and pluralistic Jewish atmosphere, free from the “Jewish politics and egos” that often come with Jewish federation life. Moishe House appealed to her because it was lay-led and didn’t have an “adult in the room.”

Rebecca, 31, currently residing in western Massachusetts, noted she had connected to Jewish camp and religious school, but found synagogue life (in the Reform and Conservative denominations) uninspiring, and not in line with her politics and values. She described herself as seeking a more traditional, Hebrew-intensive service with heightened spirituality and energy, and with fewer alternative, English-language readings (beyond what exists in the traditional text). At the same time, she sought a community that is inclusive (politically progressive with a focus on social and racial justice). And, while not necessarily anti-Zionist,

she was seeking a congregation that was at least “Zionism agnostic,” one that didn’t place the State of Israel at the center of synagogue life and acknowledged the Palestinian right to self-determination. Rebecca would eventually connect through Eden Village, a pluralistic organic farming camp in upstate New York, various independent minyanim and initiatives, and through informal gatherings with friends on both the East and West Coasts.

Chelsea, 32, also currently residing in western Massachusetts, described a combination of factors that pushed her away from mainstream Jewish institutional life. After trying to connect to a number of mainstream synagogues of various denominations, Chelsea noted that most communities she visited felt too exclusive or geared primarily to older adults or families with children. She also felt they were too materialistic, and focused on internal politics and not enough on spirituality. She often felt judged for not being Jewishly literate enough, or that she was insufficiently Jewish if she was not fully Zionist. Chelsea also eventually reconnected to Jewish life through Eden Village, to the world of Jewish environmentalism, the traditional-egalitarian minyan in which she participates regularly and other parts of the East Coast innovation ecosystem.

Jeff, 60, from Manhattan, noted that “synagogues and federations were the last things in the world I would connect to, for all the usual reasons.” They felt scripted and uninspiring. They did not feel authentic or “heart-opening.” Jeff, and many like him, connected to the popular Romemu community, which he described as “deeply Jewish yet pluralistic” and open to interfaith participation. Rabbi David Ingber, Romemu’s founder and a disciple of the Jewish Renewal movement’s founder Reb Zalman Schachter Shalomi, is as well-versed in Jewish rabbinic text as he is in Eastern philosophy or the Christian scriptures. Romemu, Jeff noted, did not bring with it the sense of Jewish superiority or triumphalism he had experienced in many synagogues – something off-putting in a reality where many families are interfaith.

Lisa, 47, and Julie, 54, from Seattle, are both partners at Kavana Cooperative. Lisa has a strong Jewish background, and works as a consultant for Jewish institutions throughout the United States seeking to modernize. Julie is not Jewish, although her husband is, and they are raising a Jewish family. Despite never having formally converted, Julie was the president of her Jewish community. Both women were members of large Reform congregations prior to their joining Kavana, and both attributed their preference for Kavana to two key factors: Kavana’s inclusivity and pluralistic ethos, and because it empowers its members and expects and encourages them to be proactive co-creators of Jewish life, rather than passive consumers.

These are just some of the reasons certain younger (and less young) American Jews are feeling disconnected from established Jewish life. And many of these individuals are finding a way to connect through alternative structures that are sprouting across the United States.

The American Jewish community has rarely stood stagnant throughout its long history. It experiences ebbs and flows, expansion, contraction, and transformation, often reflecting its wider social and religious surroundings. According to the renowned historian, Jonathan Sarna, the face of American Jewry undergoes fundamental shifts in style and structure every few generations⁵ (for a broader look at American Judaism from a historical perspective, see Appendix 1). For the past decade or more, it seems American Jewry has again begun to experience such a fundamental shift. While some communal leaders are aware of, and adapting to, these emerging realities, many more are not, or they are still trying to figure out how to do so.

Many established American Jewish institutions, including synagogues, federations and Jewish community centers (JCCs), have, to an extent, struggled in engaging with younger adult Jews, or “millennials” as we will often refer to them. As one researcher noted, “engagement of young people is almost a preoccupation in the Jewish community.” Another stated that “it’s a very real fear…”,⁶ noting that synagogues across the United States (non-Orthodox) are consolidating, aging, and even closing.⁷ Such concerns are often backed by metrics such as declining denominational identification or decreased synagogue membership and attendance.

National and local studies reflect this trend too. However, a different reading of the same studies also suggests that young adult Jews are often as interested and likely to engage in Jewish behavior as older ones. Many are doing so through a variety of innovative independent frameworks.

In May of 2019, as the initial research phase of this study concluded, leading Jewish innovators gathered for a “Collaboratory” in Brooklyn, hosted by Upstart, “to expand the picture of how Jews find meaning and how we come together…building the future of non-traditional Jewish life…(amidst a) growing network of initiatives.”⁸ Also that May, Hakhel, the Jewish Intentional Communities Incubator, held its international conference, bringing together leaders from 21 Jewish intentional communities from across the globe.⁹ Only a year before, the seven independent members of the Jewish Emergent Network (JEN) met in Los Angeles for the first JEN conference, to celebrate, collaborate, and share lessons about the new models of independent synagogues they are developing, which are attracting younger and unengaged Jews.¹⁰

Although these are only a few of more recent developments in the American Jewish innovation ecosystem, one can place them on the structural platforms created by the independent minyanim movement, which held its first conference more than a decade ago, led by the Hadar Institute.¹¹ Taken together, and despite the clear differences among the range of innovations, a set of common principles can be discerned. Understanding and distilling these can offer guidance and insights to current leaders and funders of Jewish life on how to better navigate Jewish institutions as American society, and American Jewry, undergo such a fundamental and generational transformation. Said plainly, it can offer those heading and funding Jewish life better insights into how to engage with a new generation of American Jews.

To be sure, parts of what will be discussed here may be familiar to some readers. Our intention is to present a coherent picture of fairly recent developments in this innovative Jewish ecosystem, which when taken together might offer a glimpse into the developing structure and character of what mainstream American Judaism could resemble a generation from now.