Radical Hospitality
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Because I believe that the human soul has remained essentially constant since the Bible, I also believe that those concerned for the Jewish future need look no further than the Abrahamic model to respond to our present angst. You want to know who the most thrilling religious leader of our era is? The new Pope, Pope Francis. Why? Because some six months into his papacy, the Pontiff has performed the canonization-worthy PR miracle of overhauling the public’s perception of the Vatican. No longer does the church lead with its chin, letting a list of “Thou shalt not’s” define its mission. No longer is the church asking the question “Who is out?” but rather “Who is in?” From his headline-grabbing comment on homosexuality “Who am I to judge?” to his more recent comment that that Church had grown obsessed with abortion, gay marriage and contraception, this Pope understands the big tent needs of the hour. Significantly, if you study his words closely, the shift is one of style not substance. There have been no doctrinal revolutions, no policy changes, no line dancing in St. Peter’s square. As Pope John XXIII stated at the opening of the second Vatican council, the deposit of faith is one thing; “the way in which it is presented is another.” But think of how far the tone has changed since the “God’s Rottweiler” days of Pope Benedict. It is far too early to count the returns, but as Timothy Egan recently wrote, Pope Francis’ expansive and embracing vision has resulted in the emergence of a Catholic community that though “lapsed” is now very much “listening.”
It is from this playbook that we, as a Jewish community, should learn a lot very, very quickly. Whatever the assumptions of mid-century middle America may have been, I don’t need a study to tell me that it is no longer the case. The most famous book on American religious sociology of the 1950’s was Will Herberg’s Protestant-Catholic-Jew, a book whose very title speaks to its assessment that American religious life was composed of three steady streams of inherited religious affiliation. If your parents were Irish or Italian, that meant you would be Catholic and would affiliate with the Church, as would Jews with Jews and synagogues, and Protestants with Protestants and churches. But the time for any automatic tribal affiliation has long since passed. This week I had lunch with a proud, self-identified Jew, who over the years has given more time and support to the Jewish world than most people in their lifetime. Over the meal he joyfully shared that his children were joining a synagogue. And because I can’t help myself, I asked him, “So who called the synagogue and who is paying for the membership?” On both counts, he replied that it was he. It was the smallest exchange that spoke volumes about what is taking place nationally. The default assumption that one joins, affiliates and supports Jewish institutional life – simply because that is what Jews do – is a language that has lost its traction. And that has nothing to do with Jewish or Catholic, nothing to do with Orthodox, Conservative or Reform – that is the just the fact of religion in America today.
All of which is why, when formulating a response to concerns for Jewish continuity, we need to think not just locally, not just personally, but inter-personally. On more than one occasion, I have shared how it was one individual who stopped me as I was walking out of my campus Hillel who triggered my journey back into Jewish life and living. If you see Jewish communities that are growing, that are thriving on campus, in the city, in the suburbs or anywhere, I am willing to bet that at the heart of these communities lies the radical hospitality, the open spiritual posture practiced by Abraham. As Martin Buber once noted, “All real living is meeting.” It has nothing to do with ideology. It is not Orthodox or Conservative, it doesn’t matter if you are a store-front start-up or Park Avenue Synagogue. It is the small and simple gesture of recognizing the humanity of the person sitting next to you, not judging them because they are taller or shorter, or older or younger, or richer or poorer, or more or less religious. They are human beings created in the image of the divine just as you are. In welcoming them warmly, you designate them, this sanctuary and our faith as sacred. As the book of Proverbs teaches, “The soul of a person is the candle of God.” (Proverbs 20:27) Each one of us, like a candle, can kindle the flame of another soul without diminishing the strength of our own flame. What is the secret to creating vibrant Jewish communities? Welcome everyone, invest in everyone, greet everyone, make everyone feel that their presence matters. There is no shortage of challenges facing the Jewish world, but if you want to know what you personally can do to help facilitate Jews to join, affiliate and support Jewish institutions, practice radical hospitality. That is the secret to the Jewish future.
The late Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach was once asked to describe his ideal community, a community that would, in 1960s San Francisco, become known as the House of Love and Prayer. Famously, he responded by characterizing his ideal community as one where when you arrive, people are happy to see you, and when you leave, people miss you. At any given moment there are people walking in and walking out of this building and by extension, Jewish life. More likely – and increasingly, it would seem – they are walking right by it, opting not to stop in at all. We need to sit at the opening of the tent, literally and figuratively, even running out to greet them. We need to spend less time worrying about Pew research and more time connecting with the people we would like to have sitting in the pews. We need to do the very thing Abraham started doing so long ago. In doing so, no matter what the pundits say, we will fulfill the ancient promise made to him: that our people should grow as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sands of earth, a blessing for all to behold.