synagogue

Original Article On The Jerusalem Post

The effectiveness of MLB policy cutting down on lengths of games got me thinking that, just maybe, there is hope for cutting down on long synagogue services.

I turned on the radio a few nights before Shavuot, just as the New York Mets had won a nine-inning game. The announcer was praising the speed of the game – a quick two hours and 19 minutes. While this may seem relatively fast for a baseball game, it is not completely surprising or random. The trend toward faster-moving games is thanks, in large part, to a few changes implemented this season by Major League Baseball. The implementation of the pitch clock is an acknowledgment that three hours is just too long to sit for a baseball game.

Baseball games have averaged 3 hours or longer in every season since 2010. In 2021, games tended to last 3:11. The new rules have definitely helped shorten games. As of 447 games this season, the average length of a nine-inning game dropped to 2:38 per nine innings as compared to 3:03 last season. The 2:38 time is the lowest since 1984 when average games lasted 2:35.

Even 2:35 is long compared to the early 1900s when games finished in under two hours. The first time the average length of a game went beyond the two-hour mark was in 1934!

The effectiveness of MLB policy cutting down on lengths of games got me thinking that, just maybe, there is hope for cutting down on long synagogue services. Perhaps synagogues of all denominations can take a lesson from Major League Baseball. In an age of shortened attention spans, people simply don’t have the patience for regular Shabbat morning prayer services which go past the 2-hour mark.

For a while, synagogues were on a good track to keeping it short, mostly out of necessity due to the pandemic. Following a very long hiatus where there were no in-person prayer services, many synagogues resumed prayer services with extreme caution and modifications – outside or in a tent, socially distanced and with masks. And, there was a real effort to move things along quickly.

Jewish pitcher Eric Reyzelman has his sights set on a career in Major League Baseball. (credit: COURTESY/JTA)Jewish pitcher Eric Reyzelman has his sights set on a career in Major League Baseball. (credit: COURTESY/JTA)

How was this done? By eliminating non-essential parts of the service. People were asked to say the preliminary service at home and arrive in time for the “meat” of the Shabbat morning service. We were in and out – Shabbat morning took, well, just part of the morning and none of the afternoon.

ONCE SERVICES resumed back indoors, we continued to take precautions to move the service along. Who wanted to be indoors in close proximity to people for so long? One person handled all aspects of the Torah service from ark opening to lifting of the Torah. Torah honors were taken from one’s seat, therefore eliminating wait time for people coming up to the Bimah. In some synagogues, one person had all the honors! And Mi Sheberach, the prayer for the sick was eliminated.

Even on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur rabbis found halachicly acceptable ways to eliminate non-essential liturgical prayers. They also cut down on explanations, sermon length and extra honors like the numerous ark openings traditionally done before many prayers.

When the pandemic ended, there was speculation and hope that, perhaps we learned our lesson –that shorter is better. After all, who wants to spend all Saturday morning or holiday day indoors praying? Perhaps longer services were a thing of the past. In the post-pandemic area, might it be possible to both pray and take a walk with your spouse or play in the playground with the kids?

Sadly, we have slipped and returned to our old ways. One rabbi friend shared a recent conversation from Ravnet, the listserve for the Conservative Movement, about whether post-pandemic services should be kept at their new shorter lengths or fully restored to pre-COVID lengths. One rabbi – perhaps delusional – suggested, “We have so much to offer our congregants—why not make it [even] longer [than pre-pandemic]?!”

Is he serious?! It is time for synagogues to once and for all take a lesson from Major League baseball. What is the secret sauce? New rules and enforcement.

First and foremost, MLB has implemented the pitch timer. There is a 30-second timer between batters and then a shorter time limit between pitches. Once pitchers receive the ball, they must begin their motion within 15 seconds. If there is a runner on base, they have 20 seconds. If he goes over, he is charged with an automatic ball.

Batters also take responsibility for keeping games shorter. They must be in the batter’s box and be ready to go by the 8-second mark on the clock, or he is charged with an automatic strike. Batters get one timeout per plate appearance.

Even managers must take some responsibility for keeping things moving along. Managers, who are allowed to request a replay review, must do so more quickly than in the past. They have to hold up their hands immediately after the play in question to signal to the umpires that they are considering a challenge. In past years, they were given 10 seconds to initiate the review.

Once the manager alerts the umpire to a potential challenge, the umpire initiates a 15-second timer. The manager must then decide whether to challenge the call on the field before that timer reaches zero. Otherwise, any challenge request would be denied. Previously, managers had 20 seconds to decide whether to challenge.

COULD A shul timer reduce the length of prayer services?

When I shared my proposal with Theo, a baseball-loving bar mitzvah student of mine in New York City, he wisely asked, “Would there be a clock in shuls?” and “What would be the penalty for rabbis who go over?”

I thought about how this might be implemented in synagogues. Installing two clocks – one at the back of the shul for rabbis and cantors to see and one near the ark for the congregation to see are easy fixes. Perhaps the gabbai (warden) or a newly created position could be in charge of clock monitoring.

Penalties are easy to implement and enforce in baseball. What would that look like in synagogues? Perhaps a newly appointed shul “clock committee” chair can issue rabbis with a warning for a first offense. It could take the form of a yellow or red card in soccer and result in a “talking to” by the synagogue president.

Maybe he or she would be “blocked” from joining the congregational Kiddush for a second offense. The third offense for going over the two-hour mark might result in being “benched” for a Shabbat, “fined” (forced to work without pay for a Shabbat) and the filing of complaints with rabbinic governing bodies such as the CCAR (Central Conference of American Rabbis), RA (Rabbinical Assembly) or the RCA (The Rabbinical Council of America). Cantorial bodies would also be contacted as both clergy members assume responsibility for watching the clock.

Perhaps using a clock in synagogue seems punitive and just maybe some people actually enjoy sitting in pews for over two hours. As it turns out, we Jews are always watching the clock. Each Friday and Saturday, Shabbat start and end times are determined by clock times. And for those who enjoy sitting for longer services – enjoy.

We just ask that shuls post “run times” on their websites – just like movie theaters – so we can all make informed decisions about what to expect. There are hundreds of synagogues in Israel and dozens in America which are in and out in 90 minutes. It can be done!

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Original Article Published On The JP

For those who observe Shabbat and Jewish holidays, and for those who simply want a relaxed destination getaway not far from New York City, there may be no better place than on Fire Island.

In most American Orthodox synagogues, it’s the one guy sitting in the back wearing shorts, a T-shirt and sandals who gets stares from the more appropriately and well-dressed congregants. 

At the Fire Island Minyan (FIM), located in a small house in the Seaview section of the three-block wide barrier island 51 km. long off the southern shore of Long Island, New York, between the Atlantic Ocean and the Great South Bay, it was a different scene – the one guy wearing a black sports coat and slacks got the quizzical looks. 

“We attract everything from shtreimels to shorts,” shul president Dov Schwartzben notes playfully, though somewhat seriously. Most attendees at the relaxed, relatively late starting (9:45 a.m.) island minyan were dressed only a drop more fancy than the man leading Shaharit – himself clad in shorts, a red T-shirt with white lettering, a tallit and flip-flops. Some even came with coffee cups in hand. 

The room filled as the Shabbat morning went on, though some timed their arrival to coincide with the lavish hot kiddush served outside. Women had a very good view from behind the mechitza (partition) made of fishing net and seashells decorated with Jewish stars. They had a clear view of the holy ark with the small lighthouse on top used as the ner tamid (eternal light). When the gabbai asked if there were any kohanim present to receive the first aliyah, one wise guy blurted out, “I am not, but I identify as a kohen!” 

What is Fire Island like?

Fire Island is a unique place generally and Jewishly – even among relaxed seasonal vacation communities. No cars are permitted on the island, which sports its fair share of deer, butterflies and bamboo. Arrival times to the island must be timed to coincide with the ferry or water shuttles. As soon as passengers exit the ferry, they unlock their wagons and pull their coolers of food and other household supplies to their homes. 

SUNSET OVER Fire Island. (credit: HOWARD BLAS)

In the summer, those who observe Shabbat must be on a ferry no later than the 5:30 p.m. one – the 7 p.m. ferry arrives after Shabbat has begun (though not a problem for some given the pre-paid nature of the ferry and the fact that most think the island is a natural eruv and thus the prohibition of carrying items is not an issue).

On the island, summer visitors far outnumber seasonal residents by 800,000 to 873. There are only 360 permanent homes on the island, as well as a few rooming houses, some restaurants and bars, and a few essential stores including a general store, a liquor store, a plant nursery, some churches and two synagogues.

When did Jews come to Fire Island?

While there is currently a strong Jewish presence on the small island, the Seaview section was restricted to white Protestant homeowners until 1928 when the ban against Jews was lifted. Ralph Levy was reportedly the first Jew to break into Seaview in the 1940s, closely followed by Walter Weisman. More Jews began arriving in the 1940s through the ’60s including such famous actors and entertainers as Irving Berlin, Fanny Brice, Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, Woody Allen, Lee Strasberg, Marilyn Monroe and Tony Randall. The Jewish community’s informal historian, Michael Lustig, notes that Carl Reiner, creator of the famous sitcom The Dick Van Dyke Show, reportedly wrote the script for several shows from Fire Island. 

Other famous Jewish residents have included Richard Meier (architect), David Duchovny (actor), Peter Greenberg (TV travel reporter), Nat Hentoff (columnist), Harvey Keitel (actor), Paul Krassner (writer), Tim Blake Nelson (actor/director) and Ally Sheedy (actor).

Most early Jewish residents to the island were secular, though there were some observant Jews including Rabbi David de Sola Pool of Congregation Shearith Israel, the Spanish-Portuguese Synagogue in NYC. When he bought his first house in the Ocean Beach section of the island in 1938, a local Nazi-sympathizer reportedly burned a cross on his lawn. 

The first organized prayer services were held in 1952, and a Torah was brought to the island in 1954. Services were held in the living room of Herman Wouk, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of The Caine Mutiny, another early, observant Jewish resident of the island. At various times, services were held in Wouk’s living room, Jack Miner’s house at 430 Dehnhoff in Ocean Beach (for High Holy Days services) and later on the deck of Rabbi de Sola Pool’s house in Ocean Beach.

After at least a decade or more of this arrangement, the group was large enough to become independent and was able to bring out a rabbi in a rented home that would double as a synagogue. The house was large enough to host rabbi, professor and medical ethicist Moshe Tendler and his family. Tendler, accomplished on his own, was the son-in-law of the prominent Rabbi Moshe Feinstein.

RABBI DR. Shaul Magid, who has been serving as rabbi of the once Conservative, then more Reconstructionist, now more Renewal Fire Island Synagogue since 1997, provided his account of Jewish life on the island. Magid, who wears earrings and looks one part hassidic master and one part Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead, explains that his shul started in the 1970s as an Orthodox synagogue “on the deck of Herman Wouk’s house.” Over time, the synagogue evolved. Magid said there was a “contentious vote” in the 1980s and the synagogue decided to become egalitarian. “Some left over it,” says Magid, who explained that there were many issues and transitions taking place at once including younger families coming to the island with children, and people no longer identifying or wishing to practice in an Orthodox fashion.

The banjo-playing rabbi is an accomplished bluegrass musician who has truly brought a musical flavor to the shul. He and cantor Basya Schechter, lead singer of the singing group Pharaoh’s Daughter, have developed what they call “a Kabbalat Shabbat nusach [style] based on Appalachian music.” 

The bluegrassy service takes place on the shul’s deck each Friday night, and musical friends regularly spend Shabbat and contribute musically. Magid also happens to be a distinguished fellow in Jewish Studies at Dartmouth and is a former professor of religious studies and the Jay and Jeannie Schottenstein chair of Jewish studies in modern Judaism at Indiana University. He recently published a book on Rabbi Meir Kahane and is currently working on a book on antisemitism and critical race theory. 

With Magid’s shul in transition in the ’80s and early ’90s, some members left to join what was to become FIM – the second shul on the island, a 10-minute walk from the Fire Island Synagogue. The creation of a second shul begs reference to the classic joke about a small community needing two (or even three) shuls – one to pray in and one to never set foot in! [Actually, one other town on Fire Island, Saltaire, offers High Holy Day services in a space at St. Andrew’s Church].

The FIM was founded in 1990 by Jim (“Yitz”) Pastreich with services taking place on his deck. Pastreich recalls “plastering the entire island” with signs announcing the new minyan. Historian Lustig says: “[Prominent Reform] Rabbi [Herbert] Weiner, [author of the well-known book Nine and a Half Mystics], rented a house to us (in 1993) for a number of years, and it was initially operated as a ‘share house.’” He explained that in a share house, four people lived in two bunk-beds and the middle was cleared for services. The modest house, which was purchased in 1999, originally went by the name “Rodfei Shemesh, Anshe Chof” (Seekers of the Sun, People of the Beach). It proudly strives to be an “inclusive place for interested parties to participate in prayer services in a traditional (yet casual) environment.”

ON A recent Shabbat at FIM, the community was hosting 20 former IDF combat soldiers spending a week on the island as they participated in Peace of Mind, an intensive therapy program of the Israel Center for the Treatment of Psychotrauma. The community was also gearing up for the Sunday Rosh Hodesh bar mitzvah of the son of longtime residents.

Services moved quickly – until the announcements, when the gregarious and good-natured shul president just couldn’t stop himself as he announced birthdays, famous events on that date in Jewish history – and tide times. No one seemed to care. Everyone stayed for a long time to enjoy the hot meaty outdoor kiddush – with more than a fair share of alcoholic beverages.

The community returned Sunday morning for the bar mitzvah, and many residents will spend Shabbatot on the island through Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Some visitors who don’t own homes find their way to the island for a summer Shabbat or for the Jewish holidays. “Two families of Satmar Hassidim came recently,” a member shared. “They said they needed a break from their community.”

The shul website sums it up nicely. “In keeping with the easygoing nature of Fire Island, the FIM has no ‘dress code’ (congregants may be found wearing anything from suits to shorts/T-shirt to bathing suits and everything in-between) and services are self-organized, with no official rabbinical position (therefore no accompanying weekly sermon!). The FIM is very cognizant of the location/culture in which we operate, with a (relatively) late start time and efficient operation, so as to allow people to maximize their rest and leisure hours. In fine Jewish form the FIM also has a strong emphasis on food, and we strive to have good ‘kiddush lunches’ after Saturday morning services.”

For those who observe Shabbat and Jewish holidays, and for those who simply want a relaxed destination getaway not far from New York City, there may be no better place than on Fire Island.

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Original Article Published On The Jerusalem Post

It’s the Wednesday afternoon before the Shabbat of my student’s bar mitzvah. Jake has been working hard for the past hour and a half, quietly reading his sermon and loudly belting out songs as Cantor Lisa Hest accompanies him on the guitar.

Jake is a young man with a range of special needs, and when his parents consulted me about his bar mitzvah, they’d told me they might wait until he was 15 and more mature. When I met him, however, it was obvious that his love of music, his good ear and his determination would make a bar mitzvah at 13 possible and special.

Now, with three days to go, Mom, Dad and sister Emily are assembled at the synagogue for the dress rehearsal. “Dress” may be slightly overstating the case. Jake is wearing his New York Yankees T-shirt and tallit and has a bare head. Emily, fresh from soccer practice, is wearing her gym shorts and her “Em’s Bat Mitzvah” T- shirt from her own celebration three years ago; I came in shorts, T- shirt and Teva sandals. Only Jake’s mother, in slacks and a white button-down shirt, and his dad, in a suit, dress shirt and yellow power tie, are dressed for the occasion.

As Cantor Lisa is packing up her guitar for her next gig, I open up the Torah scroll for Jake and Emily to practice. Just then, I look up to see two men at the entrance of the synagogue. It’s 7pm and I’m exhausted. But the two linger at the entrance, so I go over to see if I can help. The hasidic men, one 70 and the other 30- something, both wearing black frocks, black hats and payes, smile and say that they simply wanted to see the shul.

The synagogue that intrigues them is the 88th Street building of Congregation B’nai Jeshurun on Manhattan’s Upper West Side – a Conservative congregation that uses an electric piano on Shabbat, adds the Matriarchs to the amidah prayer, and offers joint aliyot to gay couples as they come to the Torah in celebration of their brit ahavah commitment ceremonies. The exquisite sanctuary building is only used for Friday night and special Shabbat minhah services. When the roof of the 88th St. building collapsed over 13 years ago, the synagogue began renting space from the Church of Saint Paul and Saint Andrew on West 86th Street on Shabbat mornings, for the larger crowds the congregation now attracts.

Many religious Jews will not enter a non-Orthodox synagogue (let alone a church). Why had these two ultra-Orthodox men wandered in to BJ at precisely this moment, when a boy with special needs and his immodestly dressed sister are about to read from the Torah? The visitors move closer to the ark and listen as Jake begins to read. The older gentleman points to his own head, kindly requesting that Jake put a yarmulke on his head. Emily rushes to the bin and brings skullcaps for Jake and Dad. I explain to the guests that Jake is celebrating his bar mitzvah this Shabbat. They listen for a moment as Jake reads from the Torah, smile, and leave.

Rewind 13 years. Following Jake’s birth, he underwent a series of surgeries and long hospitalizations. During one hospital stay, he shared a room with a little girl from a Brazilian Lubavitch family. Each day, men would come so the baby’s father could pray in a minyan. One day, an older man asked Jake’s mother if she was Jewish. She said she was. He asked if she lit Shabbat candles. She replied that she did not. She then offered that her husband was not Jewish, but that they were raising the children Jewish.

The man asked, “Did the boy have a bris?” She explained that he did not, but that he had an in-hospital circumcision. “Do you have a mezuzah up on your door?” he asked. “No,” said the mother. “Can I bring you one tomorrow, a real mezuzah with a kosher scroll inside?” “That’s very nice, but, thankfully, we are leaving the hospital tomorrow.” “Can I mail it to you?” “Absolutely.”

Several hours after Jake and family came home from the hospital, the phone rang. “I happen to be in your neighborhood,” a voice said. “Would it be OK if I drop off the mezuzah and put it up?” Minutes later, two men appeared at the door. The parents, both in shorts and T-shirts, greeted the guests. “I brought along a mohel,” the man said. “He would like to perform a ceremonial bris, if it’s OK with you.” The sleep-deprived parents agreed. “Any wine in the house?” the mohel asked. “No.” “Any alcohol?” “There’s a beer in the fridge.” “Get it.”

The rabbis finished the ceremony, put up the mezuzah, and promised to go to the Lubavitcher rebbe to offer a prayer for them. They left, as swiftly as they had entered.

These mystery men may not have been the same curious visitors to BJ. Then again, why not? See you at the wedding.

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