Let There Be Disruption

Fifty years ago today, at this precise moment in 1970, Rabbi Art Green began his dvar Torah based on the opening verses of this morning’s parashah, T’rumah: “Speak to the children of Israel. Tell them to bring me gifts; take gifts for me from every person whose heart is so moved. Have them build for me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.” (Exodus 25:1-8)

A recent graduate of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Rabbi Green, together with about twenty other students and teachers, had created Havurat Shalom, a communal Jewish fellowship in Somerville, Massachusetts. The Havurah, as described by one of its founding members, Dr. David Roskies, was a combination ashram, monastery, shtibl, seminary, and urban kibbutz reflecting the counterculture of the late 1960s. While there was a practical element to the new seminary – it was a way for draft resisters to gain military deferments as ministry students – the driving ethos of this scrappy community was profound spiritual principles, both revolutionary and restorative. They were revolutionary in that they rejected the establishment materialism of a 1950s “Goodbye Columbus” American Jewish life, rejected the frontal and formalized cantorial style of suburban synagogue prayer, rejected the dry scholasticism of existing rabbinic education, and rejected a host of social and political conventions received from prior generations. They were restorative in that unlike other radicals of the time who rejected religion altogether or turned to other faiths, the members of Havurat Shalom leaned into their Judaism, seeking to retrieve the authentic spirit, sound, and teachings of Jewish tradition. They turned to contemplative hasidic prayer, to traditional Jewish study, and to a model of community membership based on a mutual covenant and dialogue, not on a membership form and check sent to a synagogue office. Whether it was beginning prayer services with wordless niggunim, participating in antiwar marches in DC, or concluding services by singing Adon Olam to “Scarborough Fair,” Havurat Shalom represented a spiritual, scriptural, and communal retrieval of Judaism. Participants leveraged their unique spiritual gifts toward building a holy community. All of that was the gist of Rabbi Green’s words that morning: how the private spiritual offerings of individuals could collectively serve to renew Judaism and build a home fit for God’s presence.

The stories of Havurat Shalom and similar countercultural communities in New York, DC, and the Bay Area can be found in various histories of American Jewry, along with the nostalgia-or hallucinogen-tinged reminiscences of their founding members. This morning, I want to focus not so much on these communities, but on their reception, impact, and afterlife in American Judaism. At the time, Havurat Shalom was seen as a threat to the establishment. This week one of its founding members shared with me that when the local Boston rabbi confronted the Havurah saying that they should join the synagogue, they objected on the grounds that his pews were screwed (literally and figuratively) into the ground. And, truth be told, the heyday of Havurat Shalom did not last very long. Its utopian phase was just about five years. After the war, its founding members went on to build families and careers. Yet despite its countercultural beginnings, despite its short-lived prime, fifty years later it is not an understatement to say that the spirit and members of Havurat Shalom have shaped American Jewry both directly and indirectly. Its impact can be measured in so many ways. There are scores of independent minyanim inspired by Havurat Shalom. Its founding personalities – Art Green, James Kugel, Michael Fishbane, and Michael Brooks, among others – constitute a generation of American Jewish spiritual, scholarly, academic, and institutional leadership. The do-it-yourself Jewish Catalog volumes found place on countless bookshelves and opened the door to today’s “how-to-do-Jewish” publications in print and online. Perhaps the greatest impact of these 1960s havurot is found in circumstances we live and breathe that are not easily catalogued or codified: women clergy; gender-neutral prayer language; American Jewry’s present-day commitment to tikkun olam; the Melton, Meah, Limmud, and Study Circle classes that pervade Jewish communities, our own included; and the fact that one cannot participate in a prayer service without hearing a neo-hasidic melody, or in our case, Halleluyah sung to Leonard Cohen. The list goes on and on, but the point is one and the same. Havurat Shalom is important because it is a great case study for how disruptive innovation happens, in this case, within the American Jewish community. A new model that emerged in response to new circumstances and sentiments was initially overlooked or even rejected by the establishment, but eventually transformed from an ignored outsider to being integrated into the DNA of the very establishment against which it once rebelled.

Given the membership of this congregation, it is with great humility that I speak about anything to do with business or management theory. But ever since the sad and untimely passing of Harvard business professor Clayton Christensen last month, I have found myself totally intrigued by his theory of disruptive innovation, made famous in his celebrated 1997 book The Innovator’s Dilemma. Christensen describes what happens when an industry leader, focused on institutional stewardship and good management, proves unable to identify the new trends, circumstances, and opportunities on the horizon. As I understand the theory, a disruptive company emerges with an alternative and targets a segment of the market overlooked or underserved by its well-established competitors. Initially that alternative may be of inferior quality or only serve a narrow part of the market. Eventually, however, the disruptors get their act together and thus present a challenge to the industry leaders. Examples abound. RCA would not stop using vacuum tubes and was outfoxed by Sony and its transistors. Sears, once regarded as the best managed retailer in the world, failed to see the challenges of Walmart’s lower pricing and Amazon’s online shopping. Digital Equipment was blind to the arrival of desktop computers. Kodak lost its near monopoly in film with the emergence of digital photography. Most famously, Blockbuster Video was blindsided by Netflix, Hulu, and other streaming sites. Not every story leads to bankruptcy. There are some examples of accommodation, like the airlines that adapted to the challenge of JetBlue and Southwest, and Garmin, who refined their mission following the advent of Google Maps. The best example is probably Apple, with arguably the best second act in corporate history. Having introduced the first personal computers in 1976, it was then nearly completely overrun by Microsoft’s operating system, but then went on to totally reinvent itself with iPods, iTunes, iPhone, iPads, and the rest is history. The success stories are those companies who are eyes wide open to the emerging landscape, learn from the disruptors, integrate what they have learned into their own model, and boldly reconstruct their missions toward meeting, or even defining, the future.

Christensen, God-fearing Mormon he was, knew his Bible, so I imagine he would have appreciated the example of disruptive innovation in this week’s Torah reading. The children of Israel, having just received the law at Mount Sinai, had to transform their communal structure, national identity, and religious life from the base of Mount Sinai to the wilderness wandering ahead. Remaining at the mountain was not an option; there was an obligation to seek the Promised Land. But leaving the site of revelation risked taking leave of the divine presence. The thirteenth century Spanish commentator Nahmanides suggests that it is precisely this dilemma that prompted the innovation of the Mishkan, the desert tabernacle that would accompany the Israelites in the years ahead. The centralized model of Sinai had served its purpose; God’s Shekhinah/presence would no longer abide solely at the mountaintop. The Mishkan became the portable transistor, if you will, enabling Moses and all of Israel to experience God’s presence wherever they wandered. The pattern is there: a challenge to the received model; an innovation introduced; and the religion of Israel is revolutionized and sustained from one chapter to the next. It is not a complete triumph: there will be setbacks, including the sin of the golden calf just around the corner. But for the moment, it a model of reconstruction that would make any MBA proud.

This spirit – this spirit of reconstructing the model of our faith – has been the hallmark of our people’s strength from generation to generation. The Mishkan would not last forever. When Israel arrived in the Promised Land, they once again turned to a centralized model, experiencing God’s presence in the Jerusalem Temple. When the Temple was destroyed at the hands of the Romans, the innovations of the Pharisees transformed Judasim from a Temple-based faith to a Rabbinic religion. The Shabbat table is known as a mikdash m’at – a Temple in miniature – where we experience God’s presence in our homes every week. Sometimes the transformation is willing; sometimes it is a response to catastrophe. Sometimes the establishment embraces the disruptive innovator, and sometimes it resists. The story of Havurat Shalom fifty years ago is instructive because it represents an example of disruptive innovation that, in retrospect, served to bolster the establishment Jewish community. It is yet another case when our people, faced with new conditions, undertook to re-express our inheritance, integrating the new with the old, so that today we cannot imagine Jewish life otherwise.

And in case you are wondering, it is this sentiment that is informing the present efforts of this community. As you may know, having completed the dedication of our new campus, we are embarking on a strategic plan to set the course for our future. We are asking questions about worship, programming, social justice, congregational school, travel education, inclusion – about just about everything. But more important than addressing any particular sphere of synagogue life is the spirit guiding our efforts. What are we not doing that we need to do? What are others doing that we need to do better? What are the trends on the horizon that we need to be alert and responsive to? Who are the disruptors in our midst and how can we integrate their wisdom into our present efforts? If 70 percent of Jews will marry someone not born Jewish, how shall we position the synagogue for this reality? In a world where support for Israel has been politicized to a toxic degree – how can the synagogue help bridge the divide? As we bask in the beauty of our revitalized building and affirm our strength, can we identify the seen and unseen barriers preventing others from accessing the richness of Jewish life?

This is not about a change of mission. As long as I am here, this synagogue will remain true to being a house of prayer, of study, and of community – a place to inspire, educate, and support our membership towards living passion filled Jewish lives. But in order to stay vital so that we can accomplish that mission, we must remain self-reflective, willing to be called out on our blind spots, and willing to learn from others. We are not Blockbuster, nor are we Apple. We are an industry leader with a self-imposed insistence on constantly reimagining what we do. As the late Andy Grove remarked: “Success breeds complacency. Complacency breeds failure. Only the paranoid survive.” There are those in this world who would have you believe that the game is won by sticking to the fundamentals of blocking and tackling, and there are others who chase innovation and trick plays. We reject that choice as false. In the words of my favorite industry leader, the late, great Bo Schembechler, in this Big House we emphasize both execution and innovation, loyal to our principles and ready to scrap the script if a new one is needed.

“Build for me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.” Fifty years ago, five hundred years ago, thousands of years ago – our people’s call to action has always been to build a communal vision fit to house God’s presence. That mission is as compelling as when it was first stated. We know that. Our eyes, hearts and minds must always remain open to how we accomplish it, the materials we use, the people we learn from. Each of us has the gift of ourselves to give towards the project. I invite you to be part of the process and help to build our very bright collective future.

Further Reading:

Christensen, Clayton. The Innovator’s Dilemma: When New Technologies Cause Great Firms to Fail (New York: Harper Business, 1997; reprint edition, Harvard Business Review Press, 2016) (e-book available at the New York Public Library 96th Street branch)

Oppenheimer, Mark, Knocking on Heaven’s Door: American Religion in the Age of Counterculture (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003 (available in the PAS Library)

Roskies, David G., “A Jewish World of Infinite Possibility: Looking Back at 50 Years of Havurat Shalom,” Tablet Magazine, May 24, 2018.