I recently met up with an old friend for a beer. This is someone I’ve known since the age of 4, so he and I have some mileage together. I’ve also known his family for many years.
Before I could barely sit down on the barstool, he grabbed my arm and said, “Hey, I’ve got to tell you something. My little brother is getting baptized—or christened, or whatever you call it – in a couple of weeks.”
It took a few moments for the information to sink in for me, since these folks are Jewish. Nominally Jewish, but still Jewish.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
My friend laughed and said, “Yep, he’s gone goy.”
He went on to explain that his brother – who is in his mid-40s and was brought up with no religious education, background or observances (other than bagels and lox) – had been hospitalized for a few days about a year ago. While there, a pleasant couple representing a Christian group dropped by, offered some friendly, soothing, encouraging words, and suggested that he drop by their church sometime, just to check it out.
“That’s more than anything any Jews ever did for me!” the brother told my buddy.
He started going to their services or study sessions, enjoyed the camaraderie and spiritual ambience, and after a while wanted to sign up.
Hence, the upcoming baptism.
I think my friend expected me to literally fall off my barstool (and maybe plunge a plastic stirrer into my heart) when he offered his news. After all, you don’t hear about this kind of thing happening in Baltimore’s Jewish “shtetl” too often, right? And since I work at a Jewish newspaper, he said he figured I’m “all Jew, through and through,” and would be absolutely blindsided.
But for some reason, I wasn’t really all that surprised.
Besides the fact that Judaism was never really part of this family’s DNA, I think this fellow found something with this church group he obviously never experienced in the Jewish community – some warmth, caring, a search for the sacred and spiritual, intimacy, and perhaps a lack of focus on all things of a monetary value.
Of course, he may not have been looking in the right places in the Jewish community. We certainly have groups and institutions that provide those comforts and accoutrements.
But I hear this from unaffiliated—and affiliated—Jews over and over and over again: “All they care about in the Jewish community is getting your money,” “It’s all about who’s the best Jew,” “Being a good person doesn’t seem to count,” “Too many labels and divisions,” “It’s so boring,” “Shul just seems to be a big fashion show,” “It’s all a power/ego game.”
Let’s face it, certainly if one goes to most mega-shuls, that’s pretty much what they’ll find. We seem to be pretty good at being what a lot of people don’t want for their religious needs. Of course, when I tell people in the community that I hear these views from the unaffiliated, they usually sneer and say it’s just a bunch of kvetching.
In the midst of all the chest-thumping about how great we are – raising this much money for the building campaigns, getting new members, etc.—we’re turning off generations of people in droves.
Or some just stick around and go through the motions.
I tried to comfort my friend by reminding him that his brother is an adult and at least now has some kind of faith system to guide him. “We all need something to get through it all,” I told him. “Something was obviously missing from his life.”
But in my heart of hearts, I can’t help but wonder when the Jewish community is going to wake up and realize that to attract Jews and keep them, more spiritual nourishment and communal warmth need to be part of the package. The rest of it – the trappings, the mindsets, the culture—is just repelling folks.
How many more baptisms will it take?
