In my neighborhood, there used to be four large Orthodox congregations: Heights Jewish Center, Young Israel, Green Rd. Synagogue, and Chabad. There was also an ad hoc congregation that had begun in a home, called “Zichron Chaim.” It was commonly referred to as “the shteeble,” which is a Yiddish word for “little house” and refers to a small, organic, grass roots congregation, loosely formed and typically without a rabbi, that meets in a home and then sometimes, if it grows, migrates to a more spacious space.
When we first moved to our neighborhood, a new minyan had begun, also without a rabbi, which was quickly followed by other like-minded mini-congregations. Each started for a reason: they wanted to pray faster. They didn’t want any chatter. They wanted to start earlier, then have time for Torah study before lunch. They wanted to have singing and dancing. Each filled a certain niche and need, yet each leeched off the others. So each minyan is very small and niche-marketed.
Each time a new minyan began, I cringed. Critical voices rang in my head, saying things like, “Why can’t we all just get along?” “Look at all those big, beautiful, empty sanctuaries!” “Does there need to be a different shul for every ten people?? Have we gotten so hyper-niched that we can’t even bend our preferences to have a congregation that’s busy, pulsing, and active? With young children, millennials, adults, and the elderly??”
But then I started thinking about what these men (because Orthodox men, obligated to pray with a minyan three times a day, have strong opinions about what that experience will look like) were really saying. Maybe they were saying that prayer was really important to them. So important, in fact, that they wanted to optimize the experience as best as they could. Maybe some people don’t like large congregations and lots of action. Maybe a small minyan fosters responsibility and brotherhood in new ways. Maybe?
I rarely go to services in our Orthodox congregation, mainly because they don’t have babysitting and because we are building our own JFX services. So I don’t really have much to say about that, as a participant. But some might wonder why JFX needs a minyan. Aren’t there enough congregations? Yet we feel we are filling a niche that others haven’t found elsewhere. Community, inspiration, small feel. To me that sounds normal.
So why does it bother me when others do it?
On the one hand, “בְּרָב עָם – הַדְרַת מֶלֶךְ” (the King’s glory is with a crowd, from משלי יד = Proverbs 14); on the other hand, as you point out, some people prefer a faster or more intimate prayer than a larger shul allows.
Exactly the problem. The small groups are ruining the big ones.
Does each mini-congregation have its own Torah? Or can it be read from a printed version? Where would you keep a Torah in your living room? Can any man perform all the rabbi functions if he can read the Hebrew?
Does this mean that congregations are basically administrative units with no particularly holy status? Never thought about this before.
Each has to have a Torah – probably borrowed in many cases. You would have to create an ad hoc Ark to house it respectfully. A congregation doesn’t technically need a rabbi – just a cantor, which can be anyone who knows enough Hebrew – and someone who knows the laws well enough to run the show. A congregation receives “holy status” as soon as a minyan forms. I’ve seen minyans (especially for afternoon or evening services) form in planes, airports, living rooms, hospitals, weddings.
So a Torah reading has to be from a genuine Torah? I think some prayer books have the Torah portions in them, it can’t be read from those?
No. On Shabbat, Monday and Thursday, it has to be read from an actual scroll. And then when an actual scroll is used, there are all kinds of rules about what else must happen.
I think the current setup you describe maximizes the daavening (prayer) experience but sacrifices the community experience. Kids can’t get that much out of the traditional prayer service until they are fairly old but they get a lot of the shul experience — running around with other kids, going between their mothers and their fathers, seeing all different kinds of people of all different ages and background who make up the average congregation. So this setup maximizes the experience of prayer but minimizes the experience of community and it seems particularly hard on women and children, who often do not go to shul except on shabbat.
Maybe some of the men should start a family minyan, where they daaven in a way that maximizes the experience for people who only come to shul on shabbat. Why not? Who says that every daavening must always maximize your personal experience of prayer? Maybe some of your daavening should maximize someone else’s experience of prayer?
Alternatively, maybe these smaller minyanim are simply signs of less need to have a lowest common denominator place where marginally observant people come for Shabbat. Those people who filled the large sanctuary a generation ago have already either become more observant or less observant but they no longer want to come to shul just to see their friends and shmooze (hang out).
Maybe everyone should agree to come together for mincha (mega-mincha?) at one of the big shuls and make it a party.
EVERY SHUL SHOULD HAVE BABYSITTING. Seriously. Everyone has kids and it’s not that expensive. Even if you are not counted in the minyan and you don’t have a role in the public service, I think daavening alone feels different than daavening in your community. It creates a different kind of focus and that focus contributes to the larger group. The minyan may be complete without counting women but is the prayer complete? Does it rise as high?
Oh yes, I like this. “Maybe some of your daavening should maximize someone else’s experience of prayer?” this really resonates with me for some reason. I mean to say, we shouldn’t be sacrificing ourselves continually, but some compromise is a wonderful thing for all involved.
oy it’s so hard. you think you find a place where you fit in. Then they change some things that make it harder to go there. And/or new people come in with whom you can’t get along. And/or it gets bigger or smaller. We’ve davened in many shuls over the years. The Rabbi with whom I was the very MOST comfortable was the Rabbi of a shul where I had a LOT of trouble davening. I prefer a super small shul with a super approachable Rabbi. I personally LOVE that our shul doesn’t have babysitting— means I’ve BARELY been to shul in years, but when I DO go, I can hear myself think. When there is babysitting in a shul I think it should be very far away from the congregation and there should be no back and forth— either your child is next to you and quietly davening or reading, or they’re in babysitting. I’m in the minority— most people want kids in shul even if it turns shul into a circus. I get NO kavanah that way. Because my kids ARE the misbehaving type, we generally stay home unless I’ve got a helper or we’re having a GREAT week and I have a load of optimism. 🙂
It’s so true. Where do I neglect my own needs for the sake of the greater community?? Not simple. Not simple at all.
Nothing to add except the whole conversation is so interesting!
It is so interesting and I think unique to the Orthodox. Non Orthodox congregations are far more formal, for better and for worse.
I get it. I have described my family as Goldilocks trying to find a shul. This one is too Reform, this one is too Orthodox, that one has the rabbi we don’t like… None of them are just right!