The past two decades have seen the formation of a significant and growing number of alternative frameworks for Jewish practice and expression that primarily lie just outside the mainstream. These have, to an extent, managed to revive a certain segment of American Jewish life and are allowing a range of new models to coalesce into a Jewish innovation ecosystem. Some of the more prominent models include innovative synagogues and spiritual communities, independent minyans (prayer groups), non-Orthodox frameworks for advanced Jewish text study, social communities, social justice organizations, environmental and sustainability-focused communities, and more.
While many of these initiatives are free of denominational labels and act as start-ups, some operate within forward-thinking establishment institutions and denominational synagogues. Many of these, having been established in the digital age, have a significant online presence. To date, however, only a few have attempted to form entirely online communities. Connected to this trend are a handful of accelerators, incubators, and funders seeking to encourage and develop these trends. Of course, one cannot discuss such trends without also mentioning forward-thinking Orthodox outreach organizations, especially Chabad, and the influence they have had on the non-Orthodox innovation ecosystem.
Our aim is to provide a survey of existing innovations in order to distill common principles, characteristics, and strategies from each, despite obvious differences between them in purpose, target audience, and approach. The common characteristics identified and described may very well form the building blocks for what the next generation of American Judaism will look like. A comprehensive understanding of these characteristics would be a valuable tool for Jewish professionals and funders alike in adapting their institutions and organizations.
It should be noted that alongside the innovative frameworks described in the following pages, there are likely others that could have made their way into this study. This is not intended to serve as an exhaustive catalog of Jewish innovative activity. Moreover, it is not intended to disparage or downplay those established institutions that are succeeding or earnestly seeking to attract unengaged Jews (and their associates) through innovative means.
Disruptive Innovation: Engaged vs. Unengaged and Insider vs. Outsider Approaches
The Park Avenue Synagogue in Manhattan is an “established” denominational synagogue that seems to be thriving and can be described as one of the flagship Conservative congregations in North America. The community comprises close to 2000 member families and includes active sub-communities of young adults, interfaith families, and more. Park Avenue’s senior rabbi, Elliot Cosgrove, offered a sermon (Feb. 29, 2020) referring to the concept of “disruptive innovation” in the life of his community.
The theory of disruptive innovation is borrowed from the business world and was originally coined in 1995 by Professor Clayton Christensen of Harvard. Christensen summarizes the idea as follows:
Disruption describes a process whereby a smaller company with fewer resources is able to successfully challenge established incumbent businesses. Specifically, as incumbents focus on improving their products and services for their most demanding (and usually most profitable) customers, they exceed the needs of some segments and ignore the needs of others. Entrants that prove disruptive begin by successfully targeting those overlooked segments, gaining a foothold by delivering more-suitable functionality — frequently at a lower price. Incumbents, chasing higher profitability in more-demanding segments, tend not to respond vigorously. Entrants then move upmarket, delivering the performance that incumbents’ mainstream customers require, while preserving the advantages that drove their early success. When mainstream customers start adopting the entrants’ offerings in volume, disruption has occurred.
Basically, incumbents, or establishment institutions, continue to improve (or not) their products for existing customers without attempting to reach out to an expanded clientele. In some cases, disruptive innovation occurs by establishing footholds where none had existed. Christenson et. al explain that only when quality catches up to standards do disruptive innovations go mainstream. Netflix is a prime example of a successful experiment in disruptive innovation. First it made video rental franchises like Blockbuster obsolete, and now it is also challenging network and cable television outlets in producing and disseminating original content.
Rabbi Cosgrove tied the idea of disruptive innovation to the weekly Torah portion at the time of his sermon (T’rumah) but also offered a glimpse of how this thinking is helping make Park Avenue Synagogue a continuously thriving center of Jewish life. Cosgrove said:,57
And in case you are wondering, it is this sentiment that is informing the present efforts of this community… we are embarking on a strategic plan to set the course for our future. We are asking questions about worship, programming, social justice, congregational school, travel education, inclusion – about just about everything. But more important than addressing any particular sphere of synagogue life is the spirit guiding our efforts. What are we not doing that we need to do? What are others doing that we need to do better? What are the trends on the horizon that we need to be alert and responsive to? Who are the disruptors in our midst and how can we integrate their wisdom into our present efforts? If 70% of Jews will marry someone not born Jewish, how shall we position the synagogue for this reality? In a world where support for Israel has been politicized to a toxic degree – how can the synagogue help bridge the divide?
This is the kind of thinking necessary in established institutions that wish to remain relevant and thriving. However, whether these institutions, as successful and thriving as they may be, are succeeding in engaging new, underserved audiences is a question worth asking.
What many of the institutions and initiatives under discussion here have in common is that their approach seems to be succeeding in reaching out to and engaging with new audiences: young-adult Jews and others who are alienated from, or underserved by, existing Jewish life structures. If a significant and growing number of American Jews, especially young adults, are indeed disengaged from established synagogues and institutions, at least until they have families, such approaches seem crucial. Moreover, if the disruptive innovation succeeds, it means that the models and methods put forth in this stage could reshape how traditional institutions adapt (or fade away) later on.
It is important to note that while in the business world, disruptive innovation is seen as a competitive threat, the Jewish establishment tends not view these alternative frameworks as threats or competition but rather as potential allies. There is a broad realization that they are succeeding in reaching out to those who have trouble connecting to their own communities. Many even cooperate with and assist emergent communities and other spiritual start-ups – whether by conducting joint programming, allowing use of synagogue space, or, as is the case for many federations, helping to fund many of these initiatives. Therefore, the use of the term “disruptive innovation” may carry a different and less dramatic connotation when all Jewish professionals are ultimately focused on ensuring that more people positively engage in Jewish life.
One crucial but often overlooked element in successfully engaging millennial American Jews is understanding their past experiences and relationships with establishment Jewish institutions. Continuing with the “disruptive innovation” idea, we see that these institutions are often geared to look “inward” to existing participants. This mode of engagement is fundamentally different from organizations geared to look “outward.” This is, as Rachel Cort of Mishkan suggests, because most Jewish organizations are staffed with professionals who themselves came up within the system and garnered positive experiences, which they seek to replicate and pass on to participants. The problem, Cort notes, is that these unengaged Jews often do not share the same norms or assumptions of engaged ones. Therefore, she suggests ensuring engagement outreach professionals are mindful of this difference and can connect on a personal level, such as hiring those with a similar outsider experience.,58
Rabbi Mike Uram, the chief vision and education officer of Pardes North America, who directed the University of Pennsylvania Hillel when this research was conducted, writes frequently on this topic, describes the approach needed to engage with those outside the community as the difference between what he calls the “Yom Kippur paradigm” vs. the “Pesach paradigm” of building Jewish experiences. The former refers to programming that aims for maximum attendance and large-scale events, something easily measurable by organizations, while the latter refers to smaller, intimate, and home-based events. Too often, Jewish communities seek to formulate Yom Kippur paradigm programs that create the impression of success when they should be focusing on creating Pesach paradigm programs that build relationships. He suggests this could take the form of Shabbat dinners, study groups, Jewish-themed community service, and other smaller scale endeavors. Like Cort, he argues that the best engagement professionals are those with personal experience as “outsiders” in Jewish settings who focus on outreach geared to forming personal relationships.,59
Uram also recommends embracing disruptive innovation models. He suggests new and positive terminology in referring to such groups – “engagement” Jews referring to those who require engagement and “empowerment” Jews who are already comfortable within Jewish institutions. Engagement Jews require relationship building while empowerment Jews require rich programming and educational options, which many synagogues offer.,60 One-size-fits-all communities cannot succeed in attracting “engagement” Jews, due to the hyper-personalized world of today, says Uram. Thus, communities should offer niche programming and build smaller, more intimate micro-communities as opposed to mass experiences meant to cater to all at once. This is the disruptive approach that seems to engage outsider millennials today. The extent to which established organizations succeed in finding harmony between serving “empowerment” and “engagement” Jews will depend on their allowing engagement professionals to operate with independence and creative freedom.
Engaging young Jews, who often feel out of place in mainstream institutions due to low Jewish literacy or other identity components (sexual orientation, political views, etc.), and who don’t want to be judged, requires a different approach. Many of the successful initiatives discussed incorporate elements of this disruptive approach which seems to be the key to successfully engaging with those current institutions cannot engage. Cort and others compare this to what Amazon did to the retail industry or Netflix to the television and cable industry. For those who are already consumers, i.e., already involved in Jewish life, products need to be maintained and improved. However, those innovative organizations are often seeking to engage with new markets not currently served by the existing Jewish community. Therefore, Jewish professionals must create entirely new products, i.e., design new models of community life and new types of organizations, to engage with new audiences. This, Cort says, is the innovation paradigm necessary to engage with unengaged Jews.,61
Innovation Overview
In his comprehensive and contemporary overview of American Jewry from 2018, “The New American Judaism,” Jack Wertheimer describes a variety of innovative activities taking place in American Judaism. Overall, there are hundreds of organizations seeking to engage young Jews, adapting, changing, and “remixing” what we expect from Jewish organizations or even Judaism itself.
For Jewish organizations to succeed in engaging young Jews today, Wertheimer recommends investing in efforts to expand Judaism beyond the synagogue walls, to give it “cultural thickness,” and thus making it relevant to all aspects of life. These efforts must be sustained by higher levels of Jewish literacy and knowledge, and demand intentionality. This is especially so in a modern post-ethnic reality, where inherited communal identities are weakening and where one must be able to understand and articulate the elements of one’s identity and practice, i.e., who they are and what they do, to others (their Judaism) in meaningful and positive terms.
Rabbi Art Green, rector of the Rabbinical School at the non-denominational Hebrew College in Boston, reflected on this current wave of innovation and energy. Green was one of the founders of the Chavurah movement in the 1960s, which has drawn many comparisons to the current wave of innovation and to the independent minyan or emergent movements. He is also a long-time observer of innovation trends, and Hebrew College is at the forefront of some of these. Green noted that in the 1960s, many young people felt that synagogues and institutions were stale, stodgy, outdated, and too passive, which echoes many of the complaints the contemporary emergent and minyan movements also seek to address. One key difference Green points out is that emergent communities tend to center around a visionary and creative rabbi or leader, whereas established synagogue hire rabbis to serve an existing community.
The independent minyan movement, with its lay-led and egalitarian character, more closely resembles the Chavurah movement. It was among the first in this recent wave of innovation, with young and Jewishly literate people seeking to inject energy into what they felt was an overly passive and uninspiring synagogue service. Much of this, according to Green, is generational, and is also what is succeeding in appealing to younger Jews – people prefer to be around those similar to them. Likewise, although most liberal Jewish institutions are welcoming of marginal groups, LGBTQ, Jews of color, etc. who would feel more comfortable in emergent communities since their inclusion is the norm, not the exception. Lastly, Green suggests that more institutions consider moving toward Chabad’s organizational and financial model, which eschews membership and encourages smaller, outreach-focused franchises.
What are Emergent Spiritual Communities?
The term “emergent community” is borrowed from the emergent Christianity or the emerging church movement (coined by researcher Shawn Landres in the Jewish context). It loosely refers to post-modern, post-denominational, and post institutional religious communities that seek to reclaim a sense of authenticity and are intentional in nature, rather than inherited.
Although these communities vary in many ways, they share some important commonalities. They seek to differentiate from mainstream institutions and those of the previous generations, seeing themselves as fulfilling needs unmet by existing institutions. Some spring up around a single charismatic rabbi or leader, or a core group around that figure, others around a core group of highly educated, motivated, and committed lay leaders. They include emergent communities, those part of the Jewish Emergent Network (JEN – more on this later) and others outside the network, along with the world of independent minyanim and partnership minyanim.,64
Another common element is a desire to “express and appeal to defined and highly specific needs, tastes and styles.”,65 That is, they are not trying to be a one-stop-shop for all Jews in a given area. They define their vision clearly and anyone who connects to that vision is welcome. For some, such as the minyanim, the vast majority of participants are highly proficient and knowledgeable, and services are fast paced and intense. In some rabbi-led emergent communities, this might mean placing a strong emphasis on creating a spiritual and musical experience, especially among those who are more connected to “Renewal” Judaism. For other communities, the focus might be on social justice work or appealing to those with a specific progressive political bent.
Another commonality to which we refer throughout is a decoupling of expected combinations of attitudes and behavior patterns. In the case of most emergent communities, this tends to come in the form of combinations of “religious traditionalism and social and political progressivism.”,66
A last major element common to these communities is inclusivity, which is discussed in the following section. Taken together, along with other identifying characteristics and despite their differences, the emergent spiritual communities form a system separate from the established institutional Jewish world and mainstream denominations. In the following section and throughout, independent minyanim will be discussed separately from emergent communities. However, when examining the broader development, both emergent communities and independent minyanim can be referred to as part of the “emergent spiritual community” phenomenon as well as a part of the Jewish innovation ecosystem.
Gender Equality and Inclusivity
Gender egalitarianism and inclusivity more broadly are major motivating factors in the establishment of these independent communities. For the more halachically minded minyanim, both the egalitarian ones and partnership minyanim (the difference will be explained in a later section), the goal from the start was to provide a framework that was both inclusive and still adherent to Halacha (Jewish law). Or, as Elie Kaunfer explains (in his book Empowered Judaism), to create a worship experience that felt Orthodox but was completely egalitarian. Gender equality in Reform and Conservative Judaism have long been the norm. However, the minyanim were formed, ostensibly, to fill a gap between Conservative and Orthodox Judaism. They are, in essence, a meeting point between those who came from Conservative Judaism seeking a more intense and observant Jewish experience and those who emerged from Modern Orthodoxy seeking greater gender equality (either partial or full) and increased inclusivity.
The emergent communities discussed in this study sprang largely from already egalitarian and inclusive spaces. Of the seven communities JEN comprises, two of the founders were raised in Orthodox spaces, but none were ordained by Orthodox institutions. The emergent communities discussed here are consciously modeled on an ethos of inclusivity, which certainly begins with gender equality, extends to the LGBTQ community, political inclusivity (primarily geared to include those on the left of the political spectrum who often feel marginalized in some mainstream institutions), interfaith families and non-Jewish individuals, people with disabilities, allergies, certain sensitivities and more. Prayers, learning, and social functions are purposefully designed in such a manner to make participants feel included, especially those who might otherwise feel put off or disengaged from mainstream Jewish communal life.
How Many Participate?
It is difficult to gauge how many people are part of these communities, or how many participate in the broader innovative Jewish ecosystem that has been building up for the past two decades. Before we try to answer, however, it is worthwhile to suggest that the overall numbers might not fully reflect the current or potential impact of these frameworks. Trends currently at the margins of the Jewish community may or may not influence the mainstream in one or two generations. Some skeptics of these trends, who claim they are passing fads, point to their limited participation. However, by their nature as marginal trends, at least at this point in time, their overall participation numbers are not critical to determining their impact. They are, however, interesting and valuable in their own right.
So how many participate? The seven JEN communities, for example, report hundreds of family member units each (some as small as 200 family units with others as many as 900), with many more non-members attending each week. On an average Shabbat (pre-Covid), the communities host hundreds of people each, and as many as 2,000 or more attend High Holiday services each year. Sixth & I, the only JEN community without formal membership procedures, reported that close to 30,000 individuals have registered for various Jewish services, classes or events, 10,000 of whom attended High Holiday services in (pre-pandemic) 2019; they rented churches near the synagogue to accommodate the large number of participants.
The various established synagogues employing such alternative engagement models (emergent projects) from within alongside their traditional synagogue model similarly report that a few hundred young adults attend regularly and a few thousand attend sporadically throughout the year. Many more independent communities are being established each year, as are many of non-religious Jewish initiatives. One can assume that there is some overlap within the innovation ecosystem, and to some degree, between these alternative communities and established institutions. If taken together with about 120 or so independent minyanim in the United States, more than 100 Moishe House locations, and dozens of other such initiatives and communities, it would be safe to estimate that these frameworks attract tens of thousands of Jews each year, many of them young adults. Were other non-establishment frameworks to be included, such as Chabad and Aish Ha Torah (Orthodox outreach programs that are not egalitarian but were among the first to employ new, outsider-oriented engagement methods), these numbers easily reach into the hundreds of thousands.
The Kenissa Network, a “communities of meaning network,” is one platform attempting to bring together all Jewish organizations that view themselves as innovative (trying to “reimagine Jewish life and community”). It includes hundreds of organizations, some of them emergent communities, others in the independent minyan world, and still others focusing on environmental activism, progressive political advocacy, or other specific non-religious goals.
To get a sense of participation rates on a local level, we can see that over half (53%) of young adult Jews in the DC area (one of the largest Jewish communities in the U.S.) participated in some kind of young adult Jewish program in the previous six months (from when the 2018 survey of the Washington, DC Jewish community was administered), organized by the likes of Sixth & I, Gather DC, One Table, Moishe House or the young adult wings of established denominational synagogues.,68
Even if we do not have exact numbers, and although the growth trajectory has been positive thus far, not all agree that it will continue to grow at this rate. Dan Libenson of Judaism Unbound takes a skeptical view. He suggested that although the success of these communities is real and notable, it is also limited. The broader trend is that fewer people go to synagogue regularly. The major communities, such as Ikar in Los Angeles or Mishkan in Chicago “soak up” the demand for this “independent” style of Judaism. Were they to expand, or open up a second “Ikar” in Los Angeles, it would probably not enjoy the same success as the existing community; there likely aren’t more Jews seeking such types of engagement.
Lisa Colton, president of Darim Online, a consultant to Jewish communities interested in adapting to the needs of the next generation of Jews, noted that in her community, a notable number of participants would be unlikely to partake in institutional Jewish life if it were not for the emergent community (Kavana) in which she participates, in that the culture and community in Kavana engaged them to become more involved.,69
Were another Kavana to open in Seattle, or similar JEN communities in other major Jewish locales, would they fill up with unaffiliated Jews? Conversely, is the existing infrastructure enough to fill current needs, as Libenson suggested? Colton sees potential for additional emergent communities, and was optimistic that they would attract many who are either alienated from Jewish life or uninspired by existing options. However, she added a caveat that creating such a community isn’t “just a business plan” but requires the right people to lead it; leaders with the right mix of values, bearing, and community building passion in their DNA; a “commitment to putting authenticity and relationships above institutions.”
Who Participates?
The kind of initiatives and frameworks under discussion are generally geared to young adults, or at least those who were young adults when they began. However, as the minyanim and organizations like Ikar and Romemu have been around for nearly two decades, many of the original young adults are now in their 40s or 50s. Additional young adults continue to join, many of whom bring their parents, creating a more multi-generational experience than perhaps originally envisioned. Moreover, some communities report the participation “empty nesters,” who may have been affiliated with a certain congregation while their children were growing up, and now seek to fulfill their own spiritual or communal aspirations.
Again, one of the main draws of such frameworks for young adults who are not parents is that many establishment institutions, synagogues, JCCs and others, gear their programming primarily to families with younger children. Thus, even if many of these communities now also include programming geared to children and families as communities evolved, they are highly mindful of the need to focus on engaging the adults themselves. As one rabbi noted, synagogues too often practice “pediatric Judaism” and do not seek to engage adults with appropriate content.
Besides young adults, in primarily urban areas, different categories of innovative frameworks exist according to target audience. Emergent communities, for example, by virtue of their “start-up” appeal and their ethos of “radical inclusivity” seem to attract a considerably larger number of “borderland” or “engagement” Jews, than do traditional synagogues or federations. This group includes those who were never a part of, or moved away from, the institutional Jewish world. These communities also often attract a relatively large number of non-Jewish “seekers.” Of course, it should be noted that today, most Reform and Conservative synagogues are increasingly welcoming and inclusive. However, in the words of pop-star Lady Gaga, these emergent communities were “born this way” and are not aspiring to become so. Or, as a number of those who interviewed noted, they are not “Ashkenormative.”,70
Moreover, both emergent community leaders and denominational rabbis note that aside from a small group of “professional” and highly engaged Jews who like to “shul hop,” and might attend and hold membership in multiple institutions, established synagogues and emergent communities appeal, for the most part, to different demographics: those who are comfortable and engaged within the established Jewish community and those on its margins.
Independent minyan participants, on the other hand, tend to be young adults, and in recent years young families who often feel highly “at home” in the Jewish world. Except for the larger urban minyanim, like Hadar, most also attend and often belong to denominational synagogues, especially if they have families.
The other types of initiatives discussed vary in their target audiences. Some, such as Moishe House or Base Hillel, are geared to urban young adults with a mix of those with stronger and weaker Jewish backgrounds. Hakhel communities tend to draw those with weaker backgrounds. Learning programs like Hadar and Svara also tend to draw mixed crowds.
Gender Imbalance?
Matrilineal Ascent/Patrilineal Descent, co-authored by Sylvia Barack Fishman and Daniel Parmer in 2008 drew attention to a new phenomenon in Jewish life at the time – a growing gender gap in non-Orthodox Jewish institutions. The study noted that as women in Reform and to a lesser extent Conservative Judaism increased their congregational involvement and assumed leadership positions, the Jewish community witnessed an exit of men from those same spaces. The authors noted that as of 2008, in almost every age cohort and venue, women vastly outnumbered men. This held true for religious leadership, where women outnumbered men 2-to-1 in the 2005 entering class at Hebrew Union College (the Reform movement’s rabbinical school), and where women tend to outnumber men as participants in prayer services, adult education programs, voluntary leadership positions, and participation in Jewish cultural events. Then and now, the authors point out that the only area where men still outnumber women are in the “board rooms,” high level executive positions in the Jewish world.
Fishman and Parmer further note that in study after study, Jewish men rank lower than women in measurements of Jewish identification, ethnic, social, familial or peoplehood connections to Judaism, connections to Jewish social networks, and involvement in Jewish frameworks. Further, men tend to value Jewishness as a distinct culture less than women do, and are less likely to visit Israel, affiliate with a religious denomination or have Jewish friends.
The authors explain that although liberal Judaism in North America strived for egalitarianism, it has instead become “visibly and substantially feminized.” As such, the authors suggest liberal Judaism has become devalued in the eyes of some men, as a result of its feminization, and assert that a healthy and vibrant Jewish society requires the active engagement of both sexes.
Furthermore, the exit of Jewish men from religious and communal life influences who they marry and how they raise their children. Studies show that even when Jewish women marry non-Jews they are more likely than Jewish men with non-Jewish partners to instill a Jewish lifestyle in the home, enter programs for interfaith couples, or attempt to participate in synagogue and communal life.
Fishman and Parmer argue that this trend is self-feeding for a number of reasons. These include a sense among American Jewish men that the surrounding culture values religious activities with which women might sooner connect and devalues other activities with which men might connect as “less religious.” Moreover, as young men experience a religious and synagogue experience that is more female dominated, the lack of male role models could increasingly alienate them, leaving them apathetic to synagogue life. The Reform movement, the hardest hit by this trend, has attempted to counter it by reengaging men in religious life by relaunching the “Brotherhood” as “Men of Reform Judaism,” publishing a male-centric Passover Haggadah, and a modern men’s Torah commentary.,74
Is declining male participation and heightened female participation also relevant to the non-denominational, emergent world? If Reform synagogues, hit hardest by lower male participation, set inclusion and gender equality among their driving goals, what does this foretell about the emergent communities who speak of and practice radical inclusivity? Conversely, perhaps these communities, which seem to expend additional energies in achieving inclusivity, have figured out a way to reverse this trend.
A comprehensive 2007 survey of independent minyanim and emergent synagogues found that these communities also tend toward a disproportionate presence and participation of women over men. The study compared minyanim and emergent communities, which were just starting to form at the time, to the data of a nation-wide study of synagogues the NJPS conducted in 2000-2001. It found that among denominational synagogues, as reported in the NJPS, just over half of members were women (53 percent). However, it attributed this near parity to the “presence of married couples in the conventional congregations.” The study went on to determine that “nearly two thirds of emergent community participants are women, outnumbering men by nearly 2-to-1.” The study explained that “the gender gap in religious participation in general and in Jewish life in particular, is well-documented … but it is striking among participants in emergent communities because they draw so heavily upon younger, unmarried adults where the gap in religious participation is especially pronounced (women are more Jewishly active than men), [except among the Orthodox]”. The study found that among independent minyanim, participation rates stood at 65% for women (vs. 35% for men); 62% in rabbi-led emergent communities, and 70% in “alternative” emergent communities.,76
Do these findings hold up over a decade later? The best we can offer is a “sense,” an estimate, or an anecdotal answer, as no surveys as in-depth as the 2007 study have been conducted. Two of the emergent communities did have more precise demographic breakdowns which they shared with us.
While many of the leaders of emergent communities are women, some reported fairly equal numbers of men and women participating in services, programs, and volunteer positions, while others noted a clear imbalance in favor of women. Some communities make it a point to achieve gender parity in the composition of their boards and other leadership bodies. One community noted that as they are primarily a younger community, they were able to apply the ethos of inclusion at all levels. Another community (Kavana) reported that as their participants reflect a range of upbringings, i,e., Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and secular/non-denominational, participation patterns also reflect this dynamic. That is, there seems to be a correlation between gender representation among participants, the type of event, and one’s upbringing.
The Kitchen in San Francisco noted that while their three staff rabbis happen to be women, their lay leadership and members, as well as participants in congregational life and programming seem to be equally composed of men and women. Rabbi Noa Kushner suggested this might have to do with the high proportion of participants from the LGBTQ community, in which biological sex and social gender roles do not match up as they might in other communities (“a healthy mix of male and female identities here”).
Mishkan in Chicago, one of the newer emergent communities, suggested a slight majority of women attending services (60%, perhaps more) but noted a mindful approach to gender diversity at all leadership levels. Mishkan’s Rabbi Lizzi Heydemann pointed out that as a younger organization, they have been able to successfully apply the ethos of inclusivity to their various volunteer committees and the board, which do strike an equitable gender balance.
Seattle’s Kavana Cooperative offered a different answer than some of the other communities. Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum suggested the phenomenon of increased female participation predictably correlates to where that community lies on the religious spectrum. The more “Reform” a community is, the more female-centric it is and vice-versa; Nussbaum noted that it is not a phenomenon that occurs in the Orthodox world. As discussed later in the subsection on Kavana, its membership represents a pluralistic mix of people from various religious backgrounds, and its programming (religious services, text-study, spiritual activity, and social gatherings) reflects various approaches to Jewish life. Thus, more traditional egalitarian minyanim or Jewish text study groups are more equally attended by males and females, more “spiritually” heavy programming such as (meditation and weekend retreats) generally attract far more women than men (over 80% perhaps). Nussbaum noted that family-oriented programming has seen a growing number of fathers taking a lead in their family’s Jewish engagement, something once dominated by the mothers, and is at around an equal ratio of men to women today.
Nussbaum added that according to a 2019 survey the community conducted of their own membership, the “head of household” who takes the lead in registering for events tends to be women (63 versus 36 percent), however actual attendance and participation is fairly even. Lastly, Nussbaum noted that while the professional staff is largely female, the board membership has always intentionally been equal, as have board presidents.
Melissa Balaban, CEO of Ikar in Los Angeles did not see a gender imbalance in her community. While the senior leadership (she and Sharon Brous, the head rabbi) happen to be women, the rest of the staff, the board, and lay leadership are evenly balanced, and the community is conscientious about ensuring such diversity at as many levels as possible.
Sixth & I in Washington DC was able to refer to exact data, as all participation requires online registration. Drawing on data from 2016-2019, Sixth & I noted a significant majority of female (43%) versus male (22%) participants, with 35% opting not to disclose gender (although the names suggest that there is a majority of women in this group as well). Rabbi Jessi Paikin (formerly of Sixth & I), who shared the data, pointed out that the gender imbalance also exists among Sixth & I’s staff, which includes 14 full-time female employees and four males.
New York’s Lab/Shul reported that there are generally more women than men participating in its programs, and more women in leadership roles and volunteer positions, especially when it comes to religious education and conducting Jewish rituals. However, Lab/Shul’s board and its “ritual team” comprise equal numbers of men and women, and the congregation is sensitive to maintaining that balance. Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie pointed out that perhaps the shift of Judaism, once Orthodox and male centered, to include and empower women in leadership positions went beyond equality and changed the dynamic to something perceived as women led. He suggested that over time, we will see a return of men to the space.
Elie Kaunfer, one of the founders of the independent minyanim movement, estimated that across all independent minyanim nationwide, there likely is a preponderance of female participation over male. He estimated that the ratio to be 55% female to 45% male. If Kaunfer’s estimate is accurate, it signals a shift toward more equal male participation. This may indicate that although independent minyanim were initially composed of single, urban young-adults, they have since spread to the suburbs and include more families among their participants, resembling conventional synagogues to a greater extent. Alternatively, this may reflect a broadening of the appeal of these frameworks.
Alternative Spiritual Communities or Emergent Communities
The decade between the mid-1990s and mid-2000s saw a growth of independent spiritual communities, primarily in urban areas. A 2007 study of these communities and their participants examined three categories: independent minyanim (lay-led prayer groups), rabbi-led emergent communities, and lay-led emergent communities. Over a ten-year period (1996-2006), 80 such new communities were established in North America. The authors did not examine established synagogues with emergent projects or innovative methods.
At the time, most of the energy was focused on independent minyanim as emergent communities were only beginning to take shape. While they have some key similarities, the independent minyanim differ significantly from emergent communities in a few key ways. They are often composed of highly literate and engaged Jews, many of them raised in Conservative and Modern Orthodox milieus and are organized by lay leadership. They are, essentially, a convergence point between the two denominations. Emergent communities tend to coalesce around a charismatic rabbi and tend to appeal to those who feel alienated from mainstream institutions, often with weaker Jewish backgrounds (alongside a highly literate and engaged core seeking the energy and creativity the emergent communities offer).
The authors also identified several common characteristics. Most of these communities were started by young adults and shied away from calling themselves “synagogues,” signaling a desire to differentiate from establishment institutions. The founders and participants felt they were meeting communal needs unmet by establishment organizations, usually by offering a more authentic and intense prayer and spiritual experience. Furthermore, the communities established constituted a shift from what were essentially function-based or location-based institutions, such as synagogues and community centers, to mission-based institutions that play a niche role in the developing Jewish innovation ecosystem. On a practical level, the study also reflected that most 20-40-year-old Jews are neither in-married nor intermarried, but rather unmarried, and the demographic and social dynamics in many establishment synagogues cater more to family experiences, and less to single adults.
At least initially, few of these communities had their own buildings and often resorted to using shared or temporary spaces. They also experimented with new models of organization, membership, and decision-making. Most tended to prefer a more traditional liturgy, but were highly musical, and some developed new music that encouraged and facilitated participation and experiential intensity. One important distinction, of course, is that most independent minyanim do not use musical instruments whereas emergent synagogues tend to do so.
For the most part, these communities, and their members, are more politically progressive than mainstream institutions, presenting new combinations of religious traditionalism and political progressivism, a “decoupling” of expected combinations. Thus, a community might be more observant and immersed in ritual than a mainstream non-Orthodox community, but also LGBTQ-friendly or open to more critical viewpoints regarding Israel. The desire to refrain from existing denominational labels is primarily so as not to distance people with codified expectations or perceived barriers. Additionally, these communities introduced a shift away from what they perceive as the classic narratives often at the heart of Jewish communities – the Holocaust or Israel – and a return to what they regard as more authentic Jewish and Torah related themes. This shift to articulate a positive and authentic Jewish vision and the niche nature of these communities, at least initially, speaks to their intentionality.
The researchers found that those involved in such congregations had a higher rate of active participation than in established synagogues. The authors left open several questions that we can better answer today, over a decade later. Will these alternative independent spiritual communities, who at the time attracted primarily young adults, remain as such, or will they evolve as their participants do? Will they become the new norm, influence the mainstream from the outside, or remain a limited fringe phenomenon?
Historian Jonathan Sarna suggests that while distinct, the combination of independent minyanim, partnership minyanim (the liberal edge of the Orthodox world) and emergent communities form the building blocks of a new American Jewish middle and can tell us much about what the future of mainstream American Judaism will look like. This is, as the Conservative movement is in decline (for the same reasons that mainline Protestantism has declined), these alternative movements contain high amounts of energy at the present time.
Emergent Communities
The most famous of these innovative frameworks are, arguably, the seven communities that make up the Jewish Emergent Network (JEN), some of which were among the first to successfully create such innovative communities (dating back to 2005). They formed a network in 2016 in order to share best practices, cooperate, an, eventually gain funding for a joint rabbinic fellowship program. Beyond the JEN member communities, there are others that could also be described as emergent. It is not always clear where the line is drawn between independent synagogues and emergent communities, or between emergent communities and especially creative denominational synagogues. A number of those interviewed raised the question of whether the well-known B’nai Jeshurun (known as BJ) synagogue in Manhattan should be considered an emergent community. Indeed, this nearly 200-year-old thriving, non-affiliated congregation known for its creative and lively services could very well be categorized as emergent. Moreover, some of those mentioned or interviewed in these pages passed through B’nai Jeshurun and were influenced by it at one point or another.
We were curious about what these communities were doing to engage more successfully with young Jews who did not connect to the organized Jewish community. We further considered whether and to what extent emergent communities represent the future of synagogue and spiritual life in America. That is, what are these communities doing (right?) and what could that tell us about where Jewish life in America may be headed? Of course, if 2020 has taught us anything, is that events and trajectories can easily and unexpectedly be influenced by outside factors.
Tobin Belzer, a sociologist studying contemporary Judaism, has been tracking the development of these communities and other independent expressions of Judaism since their beginnings. She suggested that emergent communities can provide a hint of the future direction of American Judaism: much will center on inclusivity and the extent to which non-Jews, those who did not grow up Jewish, those who are “Jew-ish” and those with weak Jewish backgrounds or marginalized identities are involved. This especially relates to one of the fastest growing groups in the Jewish world, Jews of color (which includes non-white Jews, Sephardic Jews, and mixed-race Jews), which she estimates to comprise more than 10% of the Jewish community today.,79 Beyond that, Belzer contends that the “real story” is that of younger Jews feeling empowered to create frameworks and experiences they personally find meaningful, outside of the establishment. However, at least at present, funding still largely relies on the same individuals and foundations funding institutional Jewish life, who often decide what thrives and what dies.
The Jewish Emergent Network (JEN) comprises seven communities (in no particular order): Ikar in Los Angeles, Kitchen in San Francisco, Lab/Shul and Romemu in New York, Mishkan in Chicago, Sixth & I in Washington DC, and Kavana Cooperative in Seattle. At first glance, it may not be obvious what brings these communities together. Some are more halachic and traditional than others, some focus more on the community building aspect, and others focus more on learning opportunities.
The founding rabbis have different backgrounds with disparate influences. Sharon Brous (Ikar), Rachel Nussbaum (Kavana), Lizzi Heydemann (Mishkan), and Amichai Lau-Lavie (Lab/Shul) were ordained by Conservative institutions. David Ingber (Romemu) was ordained by the Jewish Renewal movement founder Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, Noa Kushner (Kitchen) was ordained at Hebrew Union College (HUC), and Shira Stutman at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College. At the same time, for each of these rabbis there were other major influences along their Jewish journeys. Ingber and Lau-Lavie, for example, had Orthodox upbringings. Others had formative experiences in non-denominational spaces, including other emergent communities, B’nai Jeshurun, independent minyanim, and university Hillels.
With all this in mind, there are a number of commonalities they highlight and celebrate. The communities see themselves as:,80
- Defining new values for 21st century Jewish communal life;
- Exhibiting an experimental spirit of risk taking – willing to rethink all basic assumptions from organizational structure to ritual practice to staff structure and use of physical space. Lab/Shul goes so far as to say it is “God-optional”;
- Radically welcoming to Jews and non-Jews of all backgrounds. Lab/Shul, Kitchen and Romemu are completely inclusive of non-Jews;
- Rooted in Jewish tradition – but willing to challenge and innovate from within that framework;
- Promoting deep and rich Jewish content – Torah learning is integral to all activities;
- Viewing Judaism as a vehicle for social justice;
- Highly optimistic, uplifting, and energetic.
Prof. Jack Wertheimer, commenting from the outside, notes that the combination of the lively and musical experience, the extreme welcoming of all Jews and non-Jews, and the unique blend of inclusiveness and accessibility along with actively progressive politics without watering down the Jewish product, make the emergent communities unique.
Beyond buzzwords, what does this mean? Are they truly different from Reform synagogues, where a third or even more of members might not be Jewish yet still feel included in synagogue life? Or where LGBTQ members might play significant roles and even hold leadership positions? Or where Jews of color are, for the most part, integrated into the community’s fabric?
Belzer (and others) notes that in some ways, the JEN communities are not all that different from mainstream denominational synagogues. Rather, they are essentially “better synagogues,” that are more attuned to production values, flow, and theatrics to connect to modern sensibilities and the sensibilities of those less steeped in Jewish communal life.
Lisa Colton, founder and president of Darim Online, also discussed inclusivity and the pluralistic nature of many of these communities who seem to be successfully engaging younger Jews who would otherwise be less interested in Jewish life. She added that modern Jewish organizations require a more proactive model to succeed. That is, members cannot simply be passive consumers who “show up, sit down, say the words, and write a check.” Rather, organizations and institutions should invite and empower active participation beyond paying dues – whether in time, talent, or energies. That is, Colton described a top-down/bottom-up relationship in which the community members initiate and support a range of ways to “be Jewish” (within reason – according to Colton) that are validated and respected by the community.
She defined one of the failures of modern Jewish communal life as being “over-professionalized” which paradoxically work to disempower average Jews and leads to an anemic feeling. That is, individuals and families should have a more active role in creating their community and in taking responsibility for being a part of their family’s Jewish education and engagement.
JEN’s rabbinic fellowship director Jessica McCormack also relates to the concept of inclusivity. She explains that while most non-Orthodox synagogues might be welcoming in theory, they tend to be “Ashkenormative” in practice, meaning the majority of their members are Asheknazi (white), and hetero-normative. Thus, the many Jews who might be biracial, Jews by choice, non-Jews accompanying a Jewish partner, or LGBTQ individuals, which together make up a significant portion of the Jewish population, especially those on the margins, can feel out of place in such mainstream settings.
McCormack further describes a range of innovations adopted by many of the JEN communities that make them more appealing to the unengaged. Perhaps due to their start-up nature, the communities rethink and reengineer things such as the room layout and the services themselves to make them as inclusive as possible. Services tend to be informal and are often conducted “in the round” without the opulence that appealed to previous generations and which still dictates the layout of many establishment synagogues. The music is thoughtfully planned and meditative in style so that those without a strong Jewish background can easily connect and participate even if they do not know how to read Hebrew or are unfamiliar with the prayer book. The prayer book itself, put together by a graphic design firm for some communities, is structured to make it accessible to newcomers. The entire community experience is crafted with multiple entry points to allow people to connect in different ways. All this, according to McCormack and others, without diluting the Jewish experience. At the same time, she points out that services are conducted entirely or mostly in Hebrew and most of the JEN communities employ a traditional liturgy more similar to Conservative than Reform synagogues.
McCormack estimates that around 15% of these communities might be “hardcore” Jews, professional Jews, and non-pulpit rabbis, including from nearby denominational seminaries, while the other 85% or so are mostly unaffiliated Jews, Jews by choice, or non-Jews.
Regarding Israel and politics in general, the JEN communities tend to be more progressive than “standard” synagogues, she notes, even unapologetically so, although they are deeply connected to Israel. Thus, if a community synagogue serves an existing geographic area and must cater to a range of political opinions, JEN communities, at least at this time, do not have to do that. That is, while a community synagogue often hires (and fires) a rabbi, who will, as a result, tread lightly not to offend parts of their community, the JEN rabbis formed the communities around themselves and their particular vision. This allows these rabbis to be more outspoken on political issues.
McCormack reflects on the future, asking if these will remain edgy “start-ups” or morph into standard synagogues as members get older and have their own families, the stage at which many currently are a decade or more after their founding? She notes that most of the emergent communities (with the exception of Sixth & I, which is discussed later) have already evolved from young adults to young parents and have adapted accordingly. Today, most have religious schools, youth groups, and are adding young adult engagement programming. Some are even offering programs for older adults as many from the core group have convinced their parents to join (Ikar’s older age group is humorously dubbed the “alta rockers”).
McCormack asserts that the extent to which the network communities, and communities in general, can stay relevant and modern is the extent to which they are willing to remain nimble in decision making, taking risks, and encouraging generational turnover. Thus, the network hosts a rabbinic fellowship program to develop the next generation of leadership for these communities and for the Jewish innovation ecosystem, which even exerts some influence on establishment synagogues.
Colton similarly discussed how such communities stay relevant and contemporary. She mentioned that what her community, and others do is distinguish between the aspects of Jewish tradition that should be preserved and those institutional constructs that may have worked for previous generations but are less relevant today.
Therefore, Colton added, that it is often easier to create a new community than to revamp an existing one and entirely change its culture. This is, since existing donors and leaders often expect a set of activities or behaviors that does not necessarily match what the target audience is seeking. She suggested that if existing institutions seek to adapt, they should consider launching parallel tracks, such as an independent minyan within the community. In this way, new spaces can be created to engage new people and empower new leaders from within a community and, over time, influence the existing culture. Lisa, like many of those interviewed, referred to this as a form of disruptive innovation in Jewish life, much like Encyclopedia Britannica was replaced by the co-created platform of Wikipedia.
JPPI interviewed key figures from these communities to try and understand what they think “sets them apart” and why they are so seemingly successful in doing what many established synagogues cannot. The overall picture we got is less one of radical innovation, although the language used often gives that impression, and more of gradual evolution of the synagogue experience. Many less familiar with these communities (and some more familiar with them) openly wonder how much they really differ from Reform or Conservative synagogues. This was a question asked during our interviews. To be clear, none of those interviewed in the JEN communities claimed they were doing something truly revolutionary, or trying to replace existing synagogues, even if the jargon used of “rethinking” and “reengineering” evinces a different impression. Perhaps it is the willingness to be so open and consider all possibilities that explains some of their relative success with those on the margins of the Jewish community, more than the actual result. Perhaps, we are seeing, as some of those interviewed said, “essentially a really good synagogue,” fine-tuned and adapted to modern sensibilities and catering to the unengaged.
Rabbi Elie Kaunfer of The Hadar Institute notes that many established Reform and Conservative synagogues have tried to implement several of the elements that characterize JEN communities, some successfully. What sets these successes apart, he suggests, is the level of talent and energy. The clergy and leadership involved have unique personalities, and that the JEN communities allow their talents to be unleashed.