What happens when a nation and religion that have been around for thousands of years – naturally developing limitations, restrictions, and rules on what is permitted and what is forbidden – meet the land of unlimited possibilities? In order to find an answer to this question, and as part of the "Arevim Ze Lazeh" program of Ne'emanei Torah Va'Avodah and the Shaharit ןnstitute, I embarked on a journey to communities, sub-communities, and trends that comprise American Jewry. Oops, sorry, New York Jewry, with an emphasis on Manhattan.
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But in an attempt to understand the story of the most Jewish city in the world (about two million Jews, depending on who is counting and who is being counted), you must go back to the beginning; and the beginning of US Jewry is quite longstanding.
Video: Mati Tuchfeld / Anti-Zionist protesters during the Celebrate Israel Parade
In 1492 Columbus discovered America. Although he did not yet know that he had discovered a new continent, the world had entered a new era. About 150 years later, a boat with Jewish passengers, descendants of Spanish deportees who lived in Brazil for several years, but had to flee after the Portuguese occupation, arrived on the shores of America. Twenty-three Jews disembark at the port of New Amsterdam (later to become New York) and settle there. A short time later, a Torah scroll was sent to them from the Netherlands. That's it, the Jews have arrived on the new continent.
From this moment on, the Jews are part of the new world that is being built up in America, but they still comprise negligible numbers, compared to the magnificent Jewish world in Europe, especially in Eastern Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East.
So, what's your story?
As Israelis, we are mostly familiar with the Zionist narrative, our story. We have been taught about Herzl and the Zionist Congress, about the waves of aliya over the years and the underground movements, about drying up swamps and blooming the wilderness, about David Ben-Gurion and the Declaration of Independence. But at the same time as this historical saga, another tale of the Jewish people was developing, and it is no less remarkable than the first.
In those years of immigration, from the end of the 19th century until the establishment of the State of Israel, for every ship that made its way to the shores of Israel, twenty ships loaded with Jews from Western Europe sailed to the US. There they found themselves in paradise, in comparison to the antisemitism and pogroms in Europe, and also in relation to the struggle evolving in Israel against the Arabs. The American nation is very religious, but as for the state institutions, not at all. There is absolute separation of religion and state. This suited the Jews – we will take care of our own affairs.
Pretty quickly the Jews established themselves in the US, founding their own communities, institutions, and media channels. Due to religious constraints of Sabbath observance, the Jews faced a problem. Workplaces are closed on Sundays, but work is as usual on Saturdays. Having no other choice, the Jews found solutions and started opening their own businesses, where they determined the day of rest. This allowed them to accrue personal capital and become social leaders.
This, in short, is the (very) brief history of American Jewry, in general, and New York, in particular.
Another angle of the most Jewish city in the world, while walking down the streets of Manhattan you cannot ignore the thought that slowly creeps into your head – almost one quarter of New York's nine million residents are Jewish. In a city that is the center of the world in many ways (my apologies to Jerusalem), one out of every four people on the street is Jewish. So, I started counting – 1, 2, 3, Jew ... unbelievable.
On the streets of Manhattan on Saturday (Shabbat), people greet each other with " Shabbat Shalom" (Gut Shabbos), just as if we were walking in Bnei Brak."
Sometimes it seems that the greater the number of Jews in the city, the diversity of communities and religious trends is just as great. Orthodox Judaism, which in Israel has state exclusivity and an almost absolute public presence, both among the religious and the secular communities, is a minority of only 10% among US Jewry. The remainder live on the fine divide between Conservative and Reform, and other trends that we have never even heard of.
So, where does the money come from?
The communities are strong and impressive. Whoever chooses to belong to any Jewish community, is tied by a life-long connection and pays a lot of money for this. Community membership costs thousands of dollars a year, yet the demand is huge, and some communities have a long waiting list to join. The separation of state and religion in the US means that the state does not fund anything religious. You want a synagogue? Pay! You want a Jewish cemetery? Buy space. You want to celebrate religious events? Pay out of your own pocket.
And the Americans pay for all of this, big bucks. Big money is visible everywhere. The congregations maintain centers in the heart of one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the world, which in many cases include not only a magnificent synagogue but also a kind of community center that provides activities for members. Conservative Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove, who heads the 1,800-member Park Avenue congregation in Manhattan, speaks of an annual budget of 22 million dollars.
Their magnificent building was renovated at a cost of about 100 million Dollars (for comparison, the 2022 budget of the Ministry of Religious Services in Israel, which is responsible, among others, for the maintenance of synagogues, was 540 million Shekels – about 150 million dollars). The gabbai (warden) of the Lincoln Square Orthodox Synagogue proudly tells that their synagogue hall is the most expensive in Manhattan – constructed at a cost of 50 million Dollars.
In most synagogues, you will not find many worshipers on weekdays. There was hardly a minyan (quorum) without us at the Spanish-Portuguese synagogue on a weekday morning. The situation was the same in the other synagogues. Try to imagine a huge synagogue with hundreds and maybe thousands of seats, that is almost completely empty. The Spanish-Portuguese synagogue was founded by the Congregation Shearith Israel from the first 23 Jews who came to America in 1654. For hundreds of years, it was the most significant Jewish community on the continent, which provided all Jewish religious needs – synagogues, burial, kashrut, and mikveh (ritual baths). After a period of wandering, the synagogue was established in 1897 in the place where it stands to this day.
Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove, of the Park Avenue congregation, speaks of an annual budget of 22 million dollars. Their building was renovated at a cost of about 100 million Dollars. The Lincoln Square Orthodox Synagogue proudly tells that their synagogue hall cost 50 million dollars.
Unlike Israel, despite the clear differences and sharp divisions between the various religious trends, you will still find communication and friendships between rabbis and community leaders from Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform movements in New York. "I am on very good terms with them. I will talk to them one on one, but I will not meet with them in rabbinic forums, because my starting point is fundamentally different," says Rabbi Moshe Hauer, executive vice president of the Orthodox Union (OU), one of the largest Orthodox Jewish organizations in the world. "American Jewry is collapsing, but Orthodoxy is on the rise," he adds, and it is true that in terms of dry data the number of Orthodox Jews has grown, the number of Reform Jews has remained stable, and there has been a significant decline in the number of Conservative Jews.
As Israelis, we know the OU mainly when looking for their kosher stamp on products from abroad, but the organization has additional fields. Among others, they run camps for American teenagers who come to Israel for several weeks, classes for Jewish children who study in the public education system (and not in Jewish schools), university projects for Jewish students, a Torah study program that also includes exams, and more. The money is channeled through a very organized mechanism. Every dollar that enters the organization from the vast kashrut system (and thank God, there is a lot), is directed to Jewish educational activities.
Is Judaism without borders still Judaism?
And if returning to our original question, the one about religion in the US – America is showing you that the possibilities of being Jewish here are almost limitless. The Orthodox-Conservative-Reform alliance? You're joking. Welcome to the largest Jewish mall in the world. David Ingber grew up in the US in a middle-of-the-road Orthodox family. Like many of his friends, he was sent to study at a yeshiva in Israel and spent quite some time roaming the streets of Jerusalem. But something didn't connect within him. He studied doctrines of the East and fluctuated between some indistinct trends until he found his place in a Hassidic sect that is close to Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach.
But what do you do when there is no religious framework that suits your needs? You set up something new, of course. So Rabbi Ingber founded the Romemu community, which currently numbers about 800 families. The community is open to Jews and non-Jews. The community grew, overflowing in the building, and Ingber found a creative solution – the large church across the street, which is closed on Saturdays. Since then, prayers have been held in the church, something that just thinking about it makes many Jews shudder.
The prayers themselves are a kind of mix between Buddha, Carlebach, and Bruce Springsteen, combined with dancing and musical instruments. "Everyone is welcome," Rabbi Ingber explains, "'For My House shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.' This is not my house. I see the Halachah as good advice, not as law."
In the heart of Manhattan, a short walk from Madison Square Garden, the basketball court of the local New York Knicks, is home to the Congregation Beit Simchat Torah. Already at the entrance, four (!) large pride flags adorn the wall, leaving no room for doubt – welcome to the first LGBT synagogue in the world, established 50 years ago, at a time when the community members were not so easily integrated into the Jewish world, and has since been used by local members.
One of the walls adorns a memorial plaque, not much different than one you will find in almost any synagogue in the world, except that this one commemorates members of the community who died of AIDS. The bathrooms are of course nongendered, and a surprise at the door left us speechless – a large bowl with condoms. Yes, you read that right, a bowl of free contraceptives in a synagogue. The reason – this, ultimately, is a population at risk. Nevertheless!
But you won't find the real surprise on the walls or in the bathroom; rather it is one of the community rabbis. Rabbi Mike Moskowitz is an ultra-Orthodox Jew. He studied for several years at the prestigious Mir Yeshiva in Israel and has been living in New York's ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods. His children study in mainstream ultra-Orthodox schools and yeshivot.
He became acquainted with the LGBT debate after a family member came out of the closet as transgender, and since then has been involved in the community. After writing articles, he received several halachic questions and he became a sort of "posek" (religious arbitrator) of these issues, first under a pseudonym. What questions, do you ask? Fasten your seat belts, the crazy roller coaster of New York begins: A transgender who wants to convert, how does he perform a circumcision? Is it permitted to participate in a pride parade on the 17th of Tammuz? (The answer: if it's a carnival to you – then no; if it's an event whose main purpose is a war against unjustified hatred – then not only is it permitted, but it is required that you do). Am I permitted to marry a person I am not attracted to? And more questions from a world that Halachah has almost never addressed.
A strange paradox is that the rabbi of the synagogue cannot pray in his own synagogue, because the prayer style there is Reform, and he is ultra-Orthodox. So, they organize an orthodox halachically appropriate minyan for him in a side hall.
Another issue that is very prominent in all streams of Manhattan communities is gender equality. For the Reform and Conservatives, there is basically no issue; there is full equality, both in seating during prayers and in duties.
This is a challenge for the Orthodox. What exists here in Israel on a very small scale, is center-stage there. Life in a super-liberal and super-egalitarian state requires finding solutions to the gender issue. In most Orthodox synagogues the partition between the women's section and men's section is very low, about half a body high, without a curtain or anything that hides the congregants from each other. In some synagogues the partition is placed horizontally, dividing the prayer hall half and half between the men and the women.
Yeshivat Hadar is located in the heart of Manhattan. This is an institution that has existed for fifteen years, where men and women study together. The yeshiva, or Hadar Institute, as it is also known, does not define itself as belonging to any religious denomination. There we met two of the yeshiva leaders, Rabbi Ethan and Rabbi Aviva. No, it's not a mistake. At the yeshiva, the women are also called rabbi. Not rabba and not rebetzin. Why? Because each of these words has an immediate connotation to something specific. Rebbetzin is usually the wife of the rabbi in Orthodoxy. Rabba is automatically associated with the Reform or Conservative movements. At "Hadar" they really don't want any affiliation. Language can sometimes be a problematic thing.
Unlike Hadar, the certified women in the Yeshivat Chovevei Torah receive the title maharat, a Hebrew acronym for "Spiritual Halachic Teacher in Torah." Again, a matter of language. The Yeshivat Chovevei Torah is located in the Bronx, founded by Rabbi Avi Weiss, who belongs to open Orthodoxy. You cannot not fall in love with Rabbi Weiss – a not-so-young Jew with a warm heart, and a Zionist through and through. Most of his descendants live in Israel, and he visits here several times a year. He himself says that he does not understand how he is able to live abroad. Again, an American paradox.
The yeshiva building is divided into three floors. On the middle floor is a synagogue that is divided equally between men and women. The rabbinic beit midrash is located on the upper floor and the beit midrash for women is on the bottom floor. Their exams are exactly the same, and those who successfully pass them are given rabbinic certification. The Chief Rabbinate of Israel does not recognize ordinations given by Rabbi Weiss because of what was defined as "concerns about his commitment to accepted Jewish law."
The synagogue on the middle floor has four leaders – two Rabbis and two maharats. Prayer is led by men, but women also participate in certain sections, such as the prayer for peace. Women also speak before the congregation and give shiurim (Torah lessons).
When there is a bat mitzvah, the synagogue becomes an event for women, i.e. the men pray in the beit midrash on another floor, and the women run a women's minyan, with the girl reading from the Torah.
Where are we heading?
One matter that cannot be avoided is the question of their attitude towards Israel. The American and Israeli flags were flying together in all the synagogues we visited in Manhattan. Everyone loves the State of Israel very much; they all want it to prosper and understand that they, too, need a strong Jewish state. Many of them have relatives who live in Israel. Without a doubt, they know us much better than we know them. They are aware of what is going on here, they hurt when we hurt, they are happy when we are happy, and, in general, it is clear that they care much more about us than we care about them.
Even so, their attitude towards Israel does not mean that they automatically support every move made by the Israeli government. Naturally, the Manhattan communities are very liberal, and the more left-wing they are, so they have more tense relations with Israel.
Even though we declared New York as "the most Jewish city in the world," it is still a minority in a non-Jewish world. It is very clear that New York Jews live with a minority awareness. This means that they see a constant need to strengthen the democratic elements of the existing system, and most are closer to the Democratic Party, which supposedly cares for minorities. Even when they look at Israel, they express greater concern for the minorities here and, therefore, show more support for the liberal sides of Israeli society. The rise of the new government in Israel several months ago caused many concerns across the ocean, but they have drawn encouragement from the widespread protest against the legal reform.
Three more points are related to their attitude towards Israel. One is the issue of donations. An impressive building sits in the heart of Manhattan – the Federation of New York. This is a kind of mega-organization that raises most donations in the Jewish world – about 250 million Dollars a year. Some 30% of this money goes to various organizations, institutions, and programs in Israel. They explain the fact that most of their donations are directed to organizations on the left-liberal side in Israel by saying that the right-conservative side has been in power for the longest period of time and, therefore, receives government budgets. Is this true? Good question.
Another point regarding Israel is the question of the younger generation. The older members of the communities, organization leaders, and rabbis are, as we said, very pro-Israel. But it's slightly different with the younger generation. Some of them have developed hostility towards Israel and do not want to be put in the same boat with what sometimes looks, in world media and social networks, like a dark and racist place. The leaders of American Jewry are very concerned about this estrangement and try to fight it, but not always successfully. By the way, Rabbi Ingber's community responded in an uproar, when about five years ago he decided to hang the Israeli flag into the synagogue. The community rebelled and some demanded that the blue and white flag be removed. Ingber did not give in – and dozens of members left the community.
The community grew, overflowing in the building, and Ingber found a creative solution, something that just thinking about it makes many Jews shudder – the large church across the street, which is closed on Saturdays. The prayers themselves are a kind of mix between Buddha, Carlebach, and Bruce Springsteen, combined with dancing and musical instruments.
The third point, the one they talk about with deep shock, is the issue of the Women of the Wall. For all Jews in Manhattan, including the Orthodox, the attack against the Women of the Wall every Rosh Chodesh is a punch in the gut. What barely reaches the headlines here and is of no interest to most Israelis, is perceived by them as an antisemitic event. They do not understand how Jews can prevent Jewish women from praying as they wish, at the holiest site for the Jewish People.
One of the most impressive Orthodox synagogues in Manhattan is the Jewish Center, and as its name suggests – it is not just a synagogue, but a Jewish community center. It is a nine-story building that houses a huge and magnificent synagogue, as well as rooms for community events, kindergartens, a basketball court, and a swimming pool. Some call it "Shul and Full."
On Shabbat, apart from the main hall, prayers are held upstairs, intended for young, single men and women. The goal is clear: matchmaking. When the risk of assimilation lurks, Jewish men and women must be brought together. The kiddush at the end of the prayers is also split – the main congregation below, the singles upstairs.
The community rabbi, Rabbi Yosie Levine, told us about a challenge he has to deal with all the time. When there is a really successful family in the community, one that participates in events and is generally involved in social leadership, they are often very attached to Zionism and end up immigrating to Israel. The community has to deal with this paradox; losing its most successful members.
What is the risk – antisemitism or assimilation?
Strict security is ensured at the entrance to each of the large synagogues and Jewish centers; much stricter even than what we Israelis are used to. In the Jewish Center, for example, two guards stand at the entrance, while a security officer wearing a protective vest secures the building through a control center and security cameras operating day and night. The fear is that these places are targeted and could be the focus of an antisemitic attack. Even so, as stated above, Jews walk the streets of New York freely and adorn distinct Jewish symbols. There is no need to remove one's kippah in the street, as is sometimes necessary in other cities of the world. How do these two standpoints not clash? It could be that the security is also a shock reaction to the attack on the Pittsburgh synagogue in 2018, in which 11 community members were murdered, and also because Americans like a bit of action.
But the matter of antisemitism does not stop there. Leaders of all large Jewish communities are working together to fight a phenomenon that raises its ugly head from time to time. For example, after several local antisemitic incidents, the New York Federation helped set up a neighborhood watch in the areas where the largest Hassidic sects live in Brooklyn.
The one who is not particularly bothered by antisemitism is the executive vice president of the OU. According to him, at every meeting of community leaders, this topic takes up a significant part of the discussion, but in the end, there are very few incidents, if you consider numbers on a long-term basis. What does worry him a lot more is the number of people lost to the Jewish People due to assimilation – a huge number that some call the "silent Holocaust," compared to the paltry number of people murdered in antisemitic incidents over the years.
Exile or Diaspora?
So far we have talked about Manhattan, the beating heart of New York, but we must remember that the Big Apple has other boroughs and, as we know, some of them are home to huge Jewish communities that are very different from those in Manhattan. The Hassidic communities are located in the Brooklyn area, a neighborhood that looks completely different from Manhattan. Here there are no skyscrapers, and everything looks more like the American dream. Single-family homes, with very green grass and private driveways.
In general, the Jewish empire that exists in New York is very impressive. This, of course, is not the first time that the Jewish People have built themselves beautiful centers in the Diaspora. Some 2,500 years ago the kingdom of Judah was exiled to Babylon, and within in a short time the exiles established a glorious Jewish community. So glorious, that when it became possible to return to the Land of Israel, many of them chose to stay where they were, on the rivers of Babylon – to sit, to cry, and to remember Zion. Even later, during the Golden Age in Spain, Jews enjoyed a strong and prosperous exile, were close to kings and rulers, and created a tremendous religious culture with philosophers and scholars. It all ended with the Inquisition and expulsion from Spain.
While visiting the Chabad Center, known as 770, we toured the adjacent museum that displays the history of Hassidism, from its days in Eastern Europe to its migration to the US. The Hassid who guided us explained at length how the glorious movement arrived on the new continent. It was the previous brand rebbe, father-in-law of the well-known Lubavitcher rebbe, who after suffering intense hardships in Russia, including a time in prison, decided he had to escape. "And where does a Jew flee to, of course? To the largest Jewish city in the world – Warsaw," the guide told us. It was impossible to not think back to Warsaw of the 1930s, the capital of the Jewish world, which within a few years had become its largest Jewish cemetery.
Is New York of 2023 not Warsaw of 1933? But the word exile, which was repeated in the previous paragraphs and is quite clear and understandable to Israelis, evokes negative feelings in some US Jews. To them, they are not exiled Jews but prefer the name Jews of the Diaspora or World Jewry.
One of the special communities in the US is that of the Sephardi Jews, mainly those tracing their roots to Aleppo, Syria. Located in Brooklyn and very different from all other Jewish communities, its members are Orthodox, very conservative, but not ultra-Orthodox. Somewhere between Shas and the traditional secular Jews in Israel. In their community the structure of the synagogue is very similar to synagogues in Israel: a clear separation between women and men, and it is understood that women do not take an active part in any part of the prayer.
And again, something that can probably only be found in the US. Meet Dr. Mijal Bitton, a member of the respected Syrian Sephardic community. In a way that seems almost impossible, Bitton combines liberalism and conservatism; a connection to tradition while looking forward to the future. How far forward? Several years ago she received an offer: Come head an Orthodox community in Manhattan. Bitton founded a community that is mainly intended for Orthodox youngsters. Did we mention matchmaking? Every weekend she packs her bags and moves to an apartment in Manhattan, where she spends her weekends near the community.
Dr. Bitton, a member of the respected Syrian Sephardi community, combines liberalism and conservatism in a way that is possible only in the US. One day she received an offer: Come head an Orthodox community in Manhattan.
Although Dr. Bitton is not a rabbi, she is the head of the community in every sense. There is no other rabbi. Although the minyan is gender-separate, she teaches lessons and gives sermons, and actively participates in prayers, in the parts that are permitted according to Halachah. What is very impressive in the community, beyond, of course, everything that is known about the wealth and the affluent members of the community, is the "team spirit." There, there are no first-class American Jews and second-class American Jews.
What will happen to the next generation?
All streams of Jewish communities are troubled by concerns of the next generation. The word "assimilation" is floating in the air. Of course, not everyone is afraid of intermarriage. The Reform and Conservative movements accept couples where one partner is not Jewish, but they also ask themselves if their children or grandchildren will feel any connection to Judaism, or if they will fully assimilate into the US culture.
When referring to American Jewry, there is a population group that needs to be treated separately, and we must ask what can be learned from its behavior and characteristics in regard to the other groups, and perhaps about us here in the Middle East. These are the Israelis who left Israel for America, known in Hebrew as Yordim (literally, going down, because they left Israel), and for those who don't like this word – we can call them the Israeli Americans. This group is different from all those around it. Truth be told, it is pretty obvious. As we said – Israelis, even if they have been living in the US for 20 years.
Perhaps the most difficult and shocking data for Israelis in America is an assimilation rate of 80-90% among second and third-generation "yordim." This is a number that shocks everyone who hears this.
Why is this happening? It's quite simple. To be a Jew in Israel, you really don't have to do anything. Whether you like it or not, life here envelops you in Judaism – from Zionism, through the Jewish calendar, holidays, and vacations, to the Hebrew language. You never need to enter a synagogue even once in your life, and still remain Jewish. Therefore, when those Israelis come to America, they have no need to belong to a community that is generally based in the synagogue. "If I didn't go to a synagogue in Israel, why would I suddenly start going to a synagogue in New York?" the Israeli asks himself.
And so, when one has no belonging to the community, that "yored" is still Israeli and still Jewish, and usually still Zionist, but the next generation goes to a public school and then to college. He lives in a non-Jewish environment and naturally has a high chance of meeting a non-Jewish spouse. And if not him, then his grandchild. This is a huge tragedy that goes almost unnoticed.
The Israelis we met, who have been living in the US for about 20 years, but feel completely Israeli, describe exactly this experience. "After four years, I realized that there is no Zionism without Judaism," one of them told us candidly. For her at least the penny dropped at an early stage, for others it is often too late.
As expected, assimilation rates are also very high among the Reform and Conservative communities – about 60-70%. Only among the Orthodox are the rates lower and somewhat acceptable.
How do you keep in touch?
A visit on Shabbat Eve to the ultra-liberal Bnai Yeshurun synagogue, known as BJ in the US, left me, a hardcore Orthodox Jew, with a harsh impression. "Idol worshipping" and "Father, what did they do to you" were sentences that ran through my mind.
The experience is very strange. On the one hand, liturgy that I know very well and can easily sing, on the other hand – it's not mine at all, and I don't belong here. What was there? Male and female cantors, of course with a sound system, standing facing the congregation with their backs to the open ark. On the side is an orchestra of three musicians that accompanies the prayers. At some point they start dancing in a big circle, men and women, girls and boys, all together. They also change certain parts of the prayer to those that they believe are more suitable to the spirit of the times.
Still, after the shock and stomachache, I start to think – there are hundreds of people here who chose to come to the synagogue on Friday evening. They could have gone out to a movie, a good restaurant, or just hung out in front of the TV. But no, every week they come to pray, to this synagogue, and for them, this is their connection to the Jewish People. So, are these religious trends, which have almost no standing here in Israel, a solution that can be accepted on the other side of the ocean, even if only for the purpose of keeping a Jewish ember alight, in a place where it is very easy to extinguish?
The journey to American Jewry opens one's eyes and hearts, and raises many questions – about us and about them – and also about the relationship between us, and whether what suits them suits us, and vice versa. And personally, it is strange, and also a little saddening, to discover that only near the end of the fourth decade of my life, I suddenly discover half of my people – my brethren.
About 150 years ago, the Jewish People split in two directions – one (and as mentioned, a very small part at first) chose to go east to Palestine, and another chose to travel west to America. The first question that arises is to what extent will these two communities, which today constitute the main sectors of the Jewish people, continue to be connected in future generations. And the second question is: evolution, as we know, believes in the mechanism of natural selection. The successful part in terms of survivability and culture continues on and survives, while those who don't – don't. Will natural selection wipe out one of the major currents of Judaism today?
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