At the turn of the 20th century, Judaism was at an inflection point. The emancipation happening throughout Europe meant that Jews were finding their identities amidst their native lands, while at the same time trying to situate their ritual life with their secular expressions. The horrors of the pogroms were coming into stark focus, while the atrocities of the Holocaust were still a ways away. Yet, one visionary knew that our tradition had to change and adapt if it was going to survive in this new era, especially in America, where the cultural reality was changing at an accelerated rate. This man was Mordecai Kaplan.
Ordained a rabbi in 1902, Kaplan spent much of the early part of his career advocating for the Jewish Community Center movement. His hope was that these houses of Jewish life would help to situate the reality of the Jewish community within the contexts of the values that secular society was prioritizing. The “shul with a pool” model was an attempt to bring all of the perks of the country club (that Jews so often were barred from joining) into the pre-existing infrastructure of our religious homes. In many ways, the movement was a smash hit; JCCs have grown and flourished, and many cities across North America boast huge numbers of engaged participants as a result of their longevity, shared resources, and infrastructure.
Yet, the consumerist model that has become the standard in the 21st century has not been altogether good for the JCC movement. In a climate where “consumers” are looking for not just a collection of resources but are trying to find the best bang for their buck, the classic JCC model often lags behind other, more specialized businesses.
The JCC has a gym, sure. But can it compete with the price or the amenities of a place like Planet Fitness or the Cincinnati Sports Club? What makes the JCC a worthy gathering place when Starbucks or the library offer better coffee or better WiFi? For better and for worse, the gateway that Kaplan created to allow Jews to come together over their shared identity and societal needs now all-too-often invites this century’s Jews who find those same needs met elsewhere.
What, then, can we do, as Kaplan’s successors, to reinvigorate a movement that has such a long legacy of success, yet demands a fresh coat of paint? The first and most obvious answer is that we, as a Jewish community, need to understand what it is that people need in the modern world. And Cincinnati’s own Mayerson JCC has been doing an admirable job of trying to diversify programming, offering a wide variety of invitations for engagement, participation, and community building.
But there is a deeper level to be had here. The JCC has the challenging obligation to not only offer services and programs but to teach the users of those resources why it is most valuable to engage in those areas in an intentionally Jewish way in the first place. In essence, the JCC movement must find a way to express the deeply ingrained cultural value of Jewish space that is not inherently religious in practice.
Put another way: what is the point of having a synagogue AND a JCC when so many modern Jews aren’t engaging with either one?
As contemporary Jews, we have the opportunity to remember that a place is more than the sum of its parts. A person might get a better cup of coffee elsewhere, might have more state-of-the-art exercise equipment, or might offer a more luxurious spa. But, at a time when loneliness, antisemitism, and political division are at dangerously high levels, there is something particularly powerful about going to a place where everybody knows your name. Where you can engage in the mundanity of everyday life within the context of a place that understands your identity without forcing you to describe it, own it, or represent it beyond yourself.
The JCC movement may well have saved Jewish life in the 20th century. However, we cannot afford to repeat the same mistakes in the 21st century and expect the same results. The world has changed, and the way we gather needs to change with it. How, then, can we best embody the brilliance of what Mordecai Kaplan offered the world and put our unique spin on it, allowing Jewish community spaces to continue evolving and flourishing in a new era of American Jewish life?
Austin Zoot is the Rabbi Educator at Valley Temple in Wyoming, Ohio.
I agree that the question your post raises requires a meaningful response deserving of buy-in or support. Hoping others step forward to engage in a conversation to ascertain what kind of community structures are ideal to bring Jews together to address these challenges (antisemitism, loneliness, discord based on identifying traits).
I grew up at the JCC in Roselawn. It was within easy walking distance, back when we kids could walk around our neighborhoods safely. Everyone I knew went there. I was there every day of the summer and there was programming for us on school holidays.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but “breathing Jewish air” influenced my identity as a Jew.
I recently joined The Mayerson JCC for the gym as part of a health journey. I am absolutely shocked at how Jewish the air still feels in that building. I see people I know every time I go. The signs on the walls talk about Jewish programming. There is a large display of t-shirts that say “Bring Them Home.”
They don’t have frozen candy bars at the Café, but they make a darn good tuna sandwich.
I do think JCCs can play an important role in creating whatever the Jewish community will look like in 20 or 30 years. The question is how to make that happen. It’s too bad that we don’t have any visionary leaders like Rabbi Kaplan to guide us.