Building a New Shul—B'yachad

Judaisms, like most religions, stake out the future by claiming the past. Each denomination claims its vision is most faithful to tradition. Some—called orthodoxies—claim to own and protect original "truths." Others, including the progressive religious Judaisms and political Zionisms born in modern Europe, claim to discover or recover some original spirit, meaning, or place.

As a kid, I moved easily among Judaisms, feeling as comfortable in a Modern Orthodox school as a Reform service or a secular Zionist meeting. Now I am comfortable with none of these. I love Orthodox liturgy, but can't get beyond the way orthodoxies refuse even to contemplate that women, homosexuals, and others similarly marginalized are fully equal before Gd. I respect progressive inclusiveness, but the liturgies leave me cold. And I love Israel and support her future as a secure home for Jews, but I recoil from her increasing parochialism and poor political and moral choices.

Data suggest that more and more 20 through 40-somethings are lost from these competing visions. Some reject Jewish religiosity as dry. Others grew up "Jewish" but with no real religious background. And others still grew up outside any organized Jewish community. However, an adventuresome few are out there creating their own Judaisms: blogging and tweeting, publishing magazines like Heeb, worshiping collectively, and fulfilling commandments in their own ways.

For a while, we found spiritual comfort in the form of Scottsdale, Arizona's New Shul. Led by Rabbis Elana Kanter and Michael Wasserman, it is a creative, nurturing, and egalitarian community of modern Jews tapped into the historical and cultural cohesiveness of a traditional Hebrew liturgy. (The New Shul uses an Art Scroll siddur.) But since moving to Austin, Texas, I've found no real replacement. We were active members of Congregation Kol Halev, a diminutive and friendly non-denominational synagogue led by the tireless Rabbi Kerry Baker. However, while we love the friends we made there, Congregation Kol Halev's physical homelessness, frequent poor attendance, and lackluster bilingual liturgy left me wanting.

Here in South Austin we are separated from the majority of Austin's Jews by a dammed up river. Jews and non-Jews down here are different than those living north or west. Demographically, we trend slightly less wealthy and far more liberal. Most importantly, we are separated geographically—the JCC is north of the river as are all the city's synagogues, none of which offers the traditional-egalitarian ethos of the New Shul, the neo-Hasidism of LA's Shtibl Minyan, the modern ruach of New York's Romemu, or the communal creativity of Seattle's Kavana.

What to do? Some initial ideas:

• Network and use Web-based social media to find, reach out to, and engage South Austin Jews interested in organizing an egalitarian community
  
• Meet regularly with these families and individuals to share interests, needs, and concerns
  
• Explore, adapt, and adopt meaningful traditional Jewish solutions to those needs and begin loosely codifying them by consensus
  

From there? Let's find out together—b’yachad.