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Who Knew? It Turns Out Real Estate is Really Important to the Future of Judaism

Our society is experiencing a pandemic-driven confluence of factors that is undermining commercial real estate in general, and Jewish buildings are caught up in the storm.
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December 15, 2021
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Before a virus devastated attendance at synagogues and other Jewish places, it was fashionable to bemoan the communal obsession with “building campaigns.” I did plenty of it myself, talking about the value of “soul estate” over real estate, or, if you prefer, software over hardware.

The idea was that Judaism survived the past 2,000 years not by erecting cathedrals but by focusing on Torah and education. Our arrival in America, however, flipped the script somewhat, as Jews took full advantage of the freedom to build as they wish. And build they did, with donors happy to have their names engraved on building walls.

Education, community, prayer and other important facets of Jewish life were all delivered through buildings that turned into status symbols and barometers of success. This real estate became so valued that the backlash in favor of “soul estate” was inevitable.

Now, the script is flipping again, as Jewish buildings are losing their value not because of the prominence of a philosophical idea, but because people are afraid to catch a deadly virus. Coincidentally, technology has enabled many people to feel they’re getting all the Jewish “software” they need by staying at home.

That is what we call a perfect storm.

The COVID pandemic has taken something already vulnerable—our buildings—and, with the help of technology, is trying to finish them off. I’m dramatizing, of course, to make a point, but you get the picture. Our society is experiencing a pandemic-driven confluence of factors that is undermining commercial real estate in general, and Jewish buildings are caught up in the storm.

But, you ask, if Jewish “software” is the most important thing, and technology like Zoom is delivering it in a way that feels meaningful to people, then what’s the problem?

The problem is that this software revolution is keeping us physically apart.

Judaism and Jews survived and thrived for so long not just by focusing on ideas like education and Jewish rituals, but also by observing these rituals together—in person. We learned together, we prayed together, we played together, we danced together, we celebrated Jewish holidays together, we did everything together, as part of communities.

The Jewish neighborhood of Casablanca in which I grew up was the ultimate example of this warmth and togetherness, which is also historically true for thousands of Jewish communities throughout the Diaspora. Our ancestors never had to worry about a good WiFi connection when planning community events.

While technology is breaking geographical barriers, by keeping us physically apart, it is erecting human barriers. What good is a global audience to a local community that feels isolated?

Zoom may have made Judaism more global, which is tremendously exciting, but let’s not overlook the high cost at the local level. While technology is breaking geographical barriers, by keeping us physically apart, it is erecting human barriers. What good is a global audience to a local community that feels isolated?

It’s popular these days to cry out that Judaism “must reinvent itself,” but this ignores the fact that technology is already reinventing Judaism. When I hear rabbis and leaders talk about reimagining Judaism through technology, I roll my eyes. “It’s already doing it for you,” I want to tell them.

The reinvention of Judaism will not happen by going forward but by going backward. We must go back to the days when meeting in person was the natural thing to do, when “community” meant gathering in person rather than on computer screens.

The reinvention of Judaism will not happen by going forward but by going backward. We must go back to the days when meeting in person was the natural thing to do.

Ironically, the younger generation that we’re always afraid to “lose” is a lot more open to gathering in person. Why did “West Side Story” not do well at the box office despite great reviews? Because, according to analysts, it appealed to an older audience that is more reluctant to leave their homes.

The biggest threat to the future of Judaism, then, is not an obsession with real estate but an obsession with staying at home—with virtual living. Communities can’t sustain themselves with virtual models. If the most popular Jewish ritual of the new century is to experience your Judaism virtually, much of mainstream Jewry risks vanishing.

Orthodox Jewry will survive, partly because it doesn’t allow technology on Shabbat, but what about other denominations? Their decline would represent a big loss to the diversity of American Jewry, and I say this as someone who belongs to an Orthodox synagogue.

If we want our diverse Judaism to survive and thrive, we must find ways to turn Jewish gathering places into the new jewels of our communities.

If we want our diverse Judaism to survive and thrive, we must find ways to turn Jewish gathering places into the new jewels of our communities. I’ll let others weigh in on making these Jewish places as enticing and meaningful as possible. The point is this: Computer screens don’t build communities; gathering places do. Pandemic or no pandemic, gathering places are the antidote to virtual living. They keep us human.

How crazy and ironic that the biggest mitzvah a Jew can do these days is to leave their home and enter a Jewish place, without worrying about whether there’s WiFi.

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