It’s finally ‘back to shule’ time

Back to school” is a common refrain that (in normal times) finds its way into January sales, media features and various other aspects of contemporary living. But “Back to shule”?

While it may be a slogan occasionally used by outreach oriented rabbis trying to get lapsed congregants to rejoin their congregations, as I write these lines it has taken on a whole new meaning.

As lockdown restrictions that banned shule attendance were reduced, we could indeed attend shules once again. Initially at least numbers of attendees at any given service were severely limited and a condition of attendance is vaccination – but after a long (and for many difficult) interval the option for what we always took for granted in this free country, legal shule attendance, was again available.

Fortunately in the coming week increased numbers will be permitted.

Which must lead us to reflect on the place of shules in our community and the purposes they serve. What did we miss when shule attendance was not permissible or possible? And why were some so determined to have shule services even as they were prohibited that they operated illegally, or even challenged the ban through legal court proceedings?

Most would say that the primary purpose of a shule is to serve as “beit tefillah” – a house of prayer. And of course they are right. But “beit tefillah” is not the Hebrew term we normally use in regard to a shule. We generally refer to a “beit knesset” – literally “a house of gathering”. And while yes, there is an implication that it is a place where we gather for prayer – which b’tzibbur, with a congregation, rather than individually is considered superior to that of the individual – that term reminds us of the communal aspect of what a shule stands for, that in modern times has led to shules becoming community centres that serve needs far beyond that of communal prayer. And no doubt aside from facilitating “tefillah b’tzibbur” seen by at least some congregants as an absolutely basic requirement of Jewish life, recovering that sense of community arising from shule attendance is what many will seek as shules reopen.

Regarding the davvening (praying) itself one can ask: must it be in shule? The technical answer is clear. One can davven as an individual but such davvening does not extend to many aspects of the service. The latter can generally only be carried out with 10 men but it can take place without a formal shule and even outside. That latter option was (legally) adopted by some to a limited extent during the lockdown with people standing in their front yards (weather permitting) and hearing a chazan leading/reciting prayers. On the other hand many simply recited the prayers without a minyan but at home with household members – some even found this to be more spiritually uplifting. Some joined minyanim that were Zoomed – in Orthodox circles a weekday option only. The outside situation led to a level of camaraderie that even in one instance that I know of led to a comment that a person concerned did not really want to return to shule.

But all of the above were largely options for those I refer to as regular davveners. They found a way to fulfil to some extent the basic halachic duties which apply in all situations. But I am reasonably certain that for by far the majority of our community there was little davvening in practice. The pre and post yomtov Zoom arrangements resultant from the popular PHH – Project High Holy Days – provided some level of involvement but it was of course far from the same as usual. Thus with the lockdown extending across the High Holy Days not just those who would davven thrice daily but even “three times a year attendees” were affected. As people are querying regarding COVID itself we must now ask – what will be the long term effects of this break from religious/communal normality?

We are now fortunate to be at a reopening stage It was amazing to see that in so many shules the daily minyanim – despite generally comparatively poor attendance – got underway as soon as lockdowns ended. Immediate reopening was the only option for those for whom deprivation of daily minyan was almost a deprivation of life giving oxygen.  But beyond that group it is of concern whether in future years all will return to shul after two years of no High Holy Day services.

In fact I worry that even some previously regular shule attendees may have got the idea that one can do without shule. And what about children and even older youth who missed out on the education that shule is an intrinsic part of life?

What about the sense of community arising from simply coming to shule (at whatever frequency that may suit the individual) but the continuing impetus of which has now been lost (albeit that even COVID had a silver lining in that Zoom lectures and webinars took certain elements of activity even beyond the audience who might normally have been expected to attend as if so inclined they could do so from the comfort of their homes).

Judaism is based on community and in the interests of continuity communal involvement cannot be lost. Yes there are other drawcards for communal involvement – sadly from at least my perspective some see these as supplanting shule. True, we are told (Shemot 19:8): V’asu li mikdash v’shachanti b’tocham – make for me a holy place (referring in the verse to the tabernacle) and I will dwell amidst THEM.” As so many have commented, it doesn’t say that God will dwell in it but in the people themselves. The shule is not the be all and end all “House of God” – to become one is our duty. Nevertheless I have no doubt that shule involvement is a key to our continuity and one can only hope that the concept will quickly recover from the closures of the last 20 months. May we all now go forward in good health “mechayil el chayil” – from strength to strength.

Shabbat shalom
(And now that you can, please attend your shule)
Yossi

Yossi Aron OAM is The AJN’s religious affairs editor.