Presence

Our new rabbi is conducting a series of meeting with the membership of the shul (this is quite an ambitious task; at last check, we have about 450 families). Each week, a group of around 20 families is invited over to discuss what they like and don't like about Shomrei. The G's and H's went last week.

The most common complaint in our group had to do with the amount of talking during davening. Many voiced the concern that there was entirely too much talking, that it was disrespectful, and ruined the davening. The comments, I believe, were directed mostly towards the main minyan, which I rarely attend, so I can't say whether or not they are founded or unfounded claims (I do know that the amount of talking at the Shabbos Mincha minyan has steadily declined to what I would consider acceptable levels). It was interesting that R. Gottlieb mentioned at the end that our group was the only group so far that focused so heavily on talking. Perhaps there's a lesson in group dynamics in there somwhere.

My observation was that most of the people who were more concerned about the talking, when they described how they viewed the shul, characterized it as a "Makom Tefillah". I took this to mean the shul is a place to fulfill your daily obligation of praying with a minyan three times a day, and not much else. In fact, most shuls in Baltimore are probably best characterized as such. But not Shomrei, or at least, not the Shomrei that R. Gottlieb is trying to build (and, I would add, not the Shomrei of the past, either). For many people, the shul is more than a place to pray; it is also a place to study, a place to see your friends, eat copious amounts of unhealthy food and in general to engage in social activities in a religious setting. Obviously there is a time and a place for each of these (no chulent during laining), but the fact of the matter is, the shul is really, for a lot of people, myself included, their connection and central point religiously.

For many, however this is not the case. More and more, people are connected with their yeshiva (in Baltimore's case, Ner Israel), and maintain a strong connection well after their departure. This is not a bad thing at all, but I think here we begin to see the effect it has on the community. For these people, shul is a place to pray, and nothing else. Their focal point remains outside the community and their neighbors. When it comes to bigger issues like building funds, activities, or even small things like being sensitive to the needs of others around you, this attitude takes its toll.

I'll end off by saying that one of the last things R. Weinreb spoke about before he left was making the shul more of a focal point in the community, particularly regarding children and teenagers. He felt that part of the problem we are facing with teens-at-risk could be alleviated by developing a stronger, friendlier environment away from the schools and yeshivos.