By Ariel Wyner
The Rabbis had told us the night before that we had three conventional choices for Shabbat morning tefillot: a Reform service, an Orthodox one, and a Conservative one. In addition to these three davening alternatives, we were also given the option of going on either a nature walk or a run around the Kibbutz.
I was raised within a family that is deeply connected to the Conservative movement, a family that equally values halacha and the turning tides of modernism, assimilation, and egalitarianism. My mom is the Rabbi of my synagogue and my dad is the lay-led cantor. I went to Ramah Poconos my whole life. I attended Perelman Jewish Day School, a Solomon Schechter affiliate, until 8th grade. I was a fervent enthusiast and active leader in USY, the Conservative movement’s youth organization. I am the ultimate product of Conservative Judaism, and yet I am, perhaps not so surprisingly, deeply unsatisfied. However, I bet you could still guess which Shabbat morning minyan I attended.
I walked into the Conservative service about 5 minutes late and there were only about 4 people in total in the room. The room—the very same room where 25 people, just the night before, took part in one of the most beautiful, passionate, and euphoric Kabbalat Shabbat experiences— lacked even a single drop of that energy. It was nearly dead-silent. The leader was mumbling along, fudging both the Hebrew and the nusach (traditional thematic melodies used in Jewish prayer), as the rest of us flipped impatiently through the pages of our brand new Nehallel siddurim, standing in silence. And waiting. And waiting some more. What was minutes felt like hours. I heard a voice inside my head, asking me—no—pleading with me, “When will this be over?!” I looked around the room. I felt as though I had reincarnated into my 13-year-old self, the version of me that could never sit still during Shabbat morning services at home. I used to blame my impatience towards Shabbat morning services on my adolescence; after this experience, I no longer believe that notion. It was a truly mediocre and unfulfilling experience, and I recognized then that this service was a near replica of most of the Conservative services I had experienced in the past.
So I walked out. Maybe it was rude of me and maybe it would have gotten better. It probably did get better. When I left the Conservative service, I walked towards the adjacent beach on the kibbutz. Finally, I had the chance to really think. Until this moment, the Nachson Project had been a surreal thought experiment for myself, one that incessantly bugs me to ask the tough questions about Judaism and the future of my movement. I have always expressed deep frustrations towards Shabbat morning services, but I was never able to articulate any viable solution. These frustrations and thoughts would soon disintegrate into my subconsciousness, never to be really thought of again. However, when I went on my own private nature walk at Kibbutz Shefayim, I finally achieved a moment of clarity.
As future Jewish leaders, we, as Nachshon Fellows, should never be satisfied with mediocrity. I’m sure that I am not the only one who has these feelings of discontent. Due to the level of engagement (or lack thereof) during tefillot, as well as other indicators, I could sense the desire for something more among my peers. Yet, I realize that the “more” that we are seeking may already exist… on Friday night!!
What makes Kabbalat Shabbat so special may be attributed to a number of things: the freshness of the air, the fragrant yet soothing smell of shampoo radiating from the dampness of people’s hair, the excitement of bringing in the Shabbat Queen, and the pure release of energy after a long week. But the service itself consists of some really awesome tunes. And that’s all there basically is to it…
Shabbat morning services at Camp Ramah certainly do a better job of being awesome (and awe-inspiring) than morning services at your typical Conservative synagogue. A particular challenge that is faced within the Conservative movement is that it struggles to keep the old traditions while soulfully seeking out new ones. There is a need for change in Conservative Shabbat morning services: more singing to more awesome tunes that are of as high caliber as Kabbalat Shabbat melodies. By the way, this idea is not by any means revolutionary. Just across the hallway, you can hear the people in the Orthodox minyan passionately singing at the top of their lungs. At Camp Ramah, we already sing some prayers passionately and even get up and dance after some of them, such as the traditional El Adon. There are some moments of the Shabbat morning service that can be infused with that “Kabbalat Shabbat” energy; we just need to apply the spirit of Kabbalat Shabbat to Shabbat morning services.
The yearning for more “ruach” already exists in everyone. It just doesn’t appear to exist in the standard Conservative Shabbat morning service. Breaking routine is hard; when you’ve been fed something your whole life, you eat it, even if you don’t necessary like it. With a little rebranding and whole lot more singing (to new tunes!!), Shabbat morning services could and would obtain a better reputation.
I’ve always wondered why there were so few kids who continued their involvement in synagogue life in their post-Bar/Bat Mitzvah years. Why, on an average Shabbat, can the amount of young teens present at services be counted on a single hand (if that)? I believe that more Jewish leaders need to “walk out” on their older traditional conceptualizations, ones that have ceaselessly failed, in order to provide a path for newer ways of thinking, engagement, and a better Jewish future. And that starts with Shabbat morning services.
So let’s have some more fun, people!!
