by Richard Marker
[Published by Wilstein Institute; Winter 2000]

"A place where everybody knows your name…" So went the theme song from the hit sit-com Cheers. If only there were more caring, spiritual, healing, diverse, authentic, learning, agile, responsive, socially responsible, meaningful communities, where everybody knows your name, Jews would flock to them, and the problems of Jewish life would be solved. So goes the theme of many analysts and commentators on the current state of the Jewish world. The absence of real Jewish community, they argue, explains the deterioration of Jewish life. If only there were "community", the Jewish people would once again feel good and fulfilled.

But, for all the appeal of this argument, it is by no means clear that the majority of Jews in North America are in fact searching for community. If there is one characteristic of the growing diversity and opportunity of our post-modern life, it is that communities are available. Perhaps these communities do not exist everywhere, and they are certainly rarely ideal, but searchers can find them. There are surely more Jewish options available today than at any time since the advent of modernity. So, if it were true that Jews are searching, they would be finding.

If one observes behavior, though, one sees a very different pattern. The successful institutions in American life are not those that build community. A norm has emerged in the secular world - in the way we shop, bank, research, socialize and communicate. It has become a truism that most people prefer to get cash from an ATM and do comparative pricing on the web. Most prefer to shop at a mall rather than a boutique. Most, especially younger people, find it easier to communicate via the Internet than by letter or in person. Email is the main vehicle of communication at virtually every workplace in America. If your name is known you are more likely to get solicited and tele-marketed. And, while some argue that this change has been imposed by corporate perversity, it is more likely that corporate marketers simply understand that most Americans prefer to connect to institutions from the safe distance of anonymity, without commitment, when and where they choose. What they don't seem to be choosing is to be committed, affiliated, or recognized - hallmarks of community.

The same pattern seems to be true for Jewish institutions. If one looks at the institutions widely considered as being the most cutting-edge or responsive to the new realities, their success is based on their incorporation of secular association patterns. These institutions are typically sufficiently crowded that one can be lost in the crowd, and accessible through a variety of portals, each of which allows quick egress. There are no expectations on the participant and no expectations by the participant beyond the experience itself. In other words - the opposite of community. Often the experiences offered by these institutions or organizations may have the ostensible trappings of people coming together, but what they actually offer is not the experience of "community" but something different that might be called "communality." For "community" assumes a compact between the individual and the group, with expectations and responsibilities proceeding from both directions. But if one observes how most people choose to participate in synagogues, jcc's, Hillels, and communal events, one sees a pattern closer to consumerism or communality than to community.

It is unequivocally true that there are many communities in North American Jewish life. Some synagogues, havurot, freestanding groupings, and small towns, for example, do function as communities. Those who have volunteered to associate have a sense of commitment to the larger group. This association helps to define them in profound and often transcendent ways. And they, in turn, feel that they can expect and make claims on the community that supports who they wish to be.

Many institutions have communities within them - a synagogue, for example, may have a small group of deeply committed, highly involved "actives" for whom the synagogue is a defining and informing center of their being. These "actives" share a commitment and involvement in each other's lives.

But for the majority, institutions are rarely perceived to be communities at all. They are places to buy services [pun intended] when needed at a cost [psychic or financial] within the reach of the consumer.

There are numerous explanations for this phenomenon.

It is possible that disillusionment with institutions has led to the turning away from them. Government intrudes or withholds rather than supports and nurtures. Employment was once a defining and guaranteed part of one's life. Today it is no longer either guaranteed or communal. Jewish institutions often appear more interested in seeking financial support than in nurturing Jewish identity.

It is possible that modern life has become so complex and atomizing that most people find the experience of community disconcerting and disorienting. Transience is so normal that "family" and "neighbor" are concepts that have lost their coherence. Surely ethnic identity is a diminished source of cohesion.

It is possible that people feel guilt and inadequacy in the face of perceived and romanticized communal norms. Thus any institutional request or invitation, no matter how innocuous, is received as a judgmental expectation. Therefore people find it much safer to connect with others where no one can, even implicitly or vicariously, impose those judgements.

It is possible that, in a non-ideological era, Judaism represents "belief" or, to generations suspicious of commitment, the very embodiment of commitment.

It is even possible that a new concept of community has arisen - the virtual community. This community has different standards, definitions, assumptions, relationships. It comes together in cyberspace or, in rare moments of convergence, in real space. We are only beginning to understand the full ramifications of a world connected in this way.

But one cannot build reliability, future, and responsibility on transience or invisibility. And that, then is the rub. It is inconceivable to envision Jewish life without community, but it is also impossible to see the majority of the current generation choosing to accept the mandates of community as classically understood or currently accessed. The challenge we face is to enable large numbers of people to cross the divide from anonymous connection to community. This is a very difficult transition. And we need to help people to make it safely to the other side.

While beyond the scope of these comments, some few institutions get it and have begun developing effective methodologies that reflect this phenomenon. The challenge is for all Jewish institutions to understand that it is incumbent upon them to understand and respond to this new set of association patterns if they wish to be the guarantors of a 21st century Jewish "community." They must maintain a delicate, almost treacherous balance. Most people will choose to enter on their own terms, and only on their own terms, anonymously, tentatively, and transiently. Institutions of Jewish life must develop openness, safe spaces, and an engaging aura to help the transition from anonymous connection to something more. They must be there, in a non-intrusive way, at that moment when people wish to find the proverbial boutique instead of the department store, the pub where everybody knows their name, when they are prepared to step out from behind the computer screen, when they are open to engage or consider a community that supports and sustains. For it is in this moment of transition that the potential for success is greatest, and the time when most institutions fail.

Richard A. Marker is Executive Vice President of Seagram's Samuel Bronfman Foundation. He has lectured in 20 countries, primarily on visions of the Jewish future. Previously, he served in a variety of capacities with Hillel: The Foundation for Jewish Campus Life, and has taught at three universities.

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