So many synagogues are losing modern Jews. Here's the fix.
The problem isn't Judaism. It's a community model that no longer matches how many Jews live.
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This is a guest essay by Vanessa Berg, who writes about Judaism and Israel.
You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, YouTube Music, YouTube, and Spotify.
For generations, synagogues operated with a relatively simple model.
Families joined because that is what Jewish families did. Membership was often inherited. Parents belonged, and children eventually belonged too. The synagogue was one of the central institutions of Jewish life, and its value proposition was rarely questioned.
That world no longer exists like it used to.
Modern Jews have more choices, more demands on their time, more competition for their attention, and higher expectations of every organization they engage with. Whether consciously or not, they compare their synagogue experience to the best experiences they receive everywhere else: from businesses, entertainment companies, fitness clubs, educational institutions, sports teams, online communities, and technology platforms.
Many Jewish institutions continue to operate as if membership itself is the product. Increasingly, modern Jews are telling us that it is not. The product is some combination of faith and spirituality, belonging, meaning, relationships, personal growth, and community.
If synagogues want to thrive in the 21st century, they must begin thinking less like traditional institutions and more like organizations that understand customer journeys, community building, personalization, and long-term engagement.
That does not mean turning Judaism into a business. It means applying the best lessons from business to strengthen Jewish life.
Most synagogues treat membership as a binary condition: Someone is either a member or not. Businesses know better. Every customer exists somewhere along a continuum. The same is true for synagogues. Some prospects have never heard of the congregation. Others vaguely know its name. Some have attended an event or followed social media accounts. Others have visited several times and are seriously considering joining.
A business would never treat these individuals identically, yet many synagogues do. Modern Jewish organizations should think in terms of stages:
Prospects: people who have never heard of the synagogue
Cold Leads: people who recognize the synagogue’s name but know little about it
Warm Leads: people who have attended events, interacted online, or developed some familiarity
Hot Leads: people actively considering deeper involvement
First-Time Members: individuals who make their first financial commitment through membership, donations, classes, or programs
Repeat Members: people who continue participating and investing
Growing Members: members whose engagement expands across multiple programs, groups, causes, and experiences
Key Members: highly engaged community builders, donors, volunteers, and advocates
Most synagogues focus enormous attention on existing members while investing relatively little in moving people through these stages. As a result, they struggle to replace natural attrition and often wonder why growth remains elusive.
Growth is rarely mysterious. It is usually the result of building systems that move people from awareness to engagement to commitment.
Modern Jews do not simply compare their synagogue experience to other synagogues. They compare it to every experience they have elsewhere.
Netflix knows what they like to watch. Spotify knows what they like to listen to. Amazon knows what they like to buy. Their favorite sports team knows their ticket history. Their gym knows their fitness goals.
Yet many synagogues still communicate with every member in exactly the same way. A 25-year-old single professional receives the same newsletter as a family with young children. A retiree receives the same invitations as a college student. A brand-new member receives the same communications as someone who has belonged for twenty years.
Modern Jews increasingly expect more relevant experiences. They want recommendations that fit their interests. They want introductions to people in similar life stages. They want programming that reflects their goals and challenges. They want organizations that know who they are rather than merely knowing they paid their dues.
The strongest synagogues will not simply collect information about their members. They will use it to create deeper relationships and more meaningful engagement.
Many synagogues still organize themselves around a membership model that emerged in a different era. The assumption was straightforward: Join the synagogue, attend services, send your children to preschool and Hebrew school, pay dues, and remain a member for decades.
Today’s Jews are not necessarily rejecting Judaism. Many are rejecting passive affiliation. They want value. They want relevance. They want relationships. They want experiences that improve their lives. They want organizations that understand their needs.
This is not selfishness. It is simply how modern consumers behave across every aspect of life.
People do not remain loyal because an institution exists. They remain loyal because that institution consistently adds value to their lives. Jewish organizations should not be offended by this reality. They should embrace it.
Many Jewish leaders mistakenly believe their primary competition is another synagogue across town. It is not. The competition is everything else.
It is youth sports. It is weekend travel. It is brunch with friends. It is one’s favorite TV streaming service. It is podcasts. It is hiking groups. It is volunteer organizations. It is professional networking communities. It is social media.
Every synagogue is competing for a finite amount of time, attention, energy, and emotional investment. This reality may be uncomfortable, but it is also clarifying. It means synagogues can no longer assume attendance. They must earn it.
The future belongs to organizations that create experiences compelling enough to compete in a crowded marketplace of options — not because Judaism is a consumer product, but because human attention has become one of the most valuable resources in modern life.
For much of Jewish history, the synagogue building was the primary center of Jewish life. Today, Jewish life happens everywhere. It happens online, in coffee shops, at Shabbat dinners, on hiking trails, at volunteer projects, and through podcasts, WhatsApp groups, retreats, networking events, and digital communities. Modern Jews increasingly expect Jewish organizations to meet them where they already are.
The synagogue building should remain important, but it should no longer be viewed as the exclusive venue for Jewish engagement. The strongest Jewish communities will not be confined to a physical address. They will operate as ecosystems. Some interactions will occur in the sanctuary. Others will happen in homes. Others will happen digitally. Others will happen in entirely unexpected places.
The goal is not to get people into the building. The goal is to get Judaism into people’s lives.
Many synagogues still treat their websites as digital brochures. They post service times, staff directories, and donation forms and then wonder why engagement remains limited.
Modern Jews increasingly expect something more. They expect digital spaces where they can learn, connect, volunteer, ask questions, discover opportunities, and build relationships. They expect communities that remain active between Shabbat services. They expect content that educates and inspires. They expect communication that feels relevant, timely, and useful.
The future synagogue will be both physical and digital. The physical building will remain important, but it will become one touchpoint within a much larger ecosystem of engagement.
Businesses understand a simple truth: Customers rarely make a purchase the first time they encounter a brand. Trust is built gradually. Relationships develop over time.
The same principle applies to synagogues. Many organizations place enormous emphasis on membership acquisition while investing insufficiently in relationship development. People should be able to engage meaningfully before they are asked to join. That means attending events, participating in classes, joining service projects, experiencing community, building friendships, and feeling welcomed.
Membership should be the natural outcome of engagement, not the prerequisite for it.
The most successful synagogues create numerous no- and low-barrier entry points that allow people to explore Jewish life without immediately committing.
And here’s another idea: Many synagogues continue to structure participation around a single question: “Are you a member?” For decades, this made sense. Membership was the primary gateway into Jewish life.
Today, however, consumers are increasingly accustomed to exploring before committing. They subscribe to streaming services after free trials. They attend a fitness class before purchasing a gym membership. They buy individual courses before enrolling in a degree program. They want to experience value before making a long-term commitment.
Jewish organizations should take notice. Instead of asking people to commit immediately to annual dues, synagogues should create more opportunities for people to participate à la carte: Attend a class, join a young professionals event, register for a retreat, participate in a volunteer project, purchase a ticket to a lecture, join a networking group, attend a Shabbat dinner, support a specific initiative.
Each interaction becomes another touchpoint in the relationship.
Some synagogue leaders worry that offering too many non-member options will reduce membership, but the opposite is often more likely: People are far more willing to commit after they have experienced value firsthand. Someone who attends six events, takes two classes, volunteers at a service project, and develops friendships within the community is far more likely to become a member than someone who is asked to pay annual dues after a single visit.
The goal should not be to sell membership. The goal should be to create engagement. Membership becomes a natural next step when people realize they are already participating regularly and receiving meaningful value. In this sense, à la carte participation is not an alternative to membership. It is often the pathway to membership.
Many synagogues obsess over membership numbers, yet membership itself is not a strategy. It is an outcome.
People rarely join because they received another membership brochure. They join because they found friends. They join because their children found belonging. They join because they discovered meaning. They join because someone made them feel seen, welcomed, and valued.
Membership is often the result of successful community building rather than the cause of it. The healthiest synagogues understand this distinction. They focus first on relationships, experiences, and belonging. Membership follows naturally.
Many synagogues obsess over attracting new members while paying insufficient attention to retaining existing ones, yet businesses know that acquiring a customer is usually far more expensive than keeping one. The same principle applies to Jewish organizations. The question should not simply be, “How many members did we add?” It should also be:
How many meaningful relationships did we deepen?
How many people increased their engagement?
How many members became advocates?
How many people found genuine belonging?
Growth is not merely numerical. It is relational.
Many synagogues measure success through activity. How many people attended? How many tickets were sold? How many programs were offered?
These metrics matter, but they can be misleading. A synagogue can host dozens of successful events and still fail to build a meaningful community. The more important questions are different. Did new friendships emerge? Did existing relationships deepen? Did someone find a mentor? Did someone feel less lonely? Did someone become more connected to Jewish life?
People rarely stay because of an event. They stay because of the people they met there.
The future synagogue should not merely produce programming. It should intentionally create environments where relationships can form and communities can emerge — which also brings us to the intermarriage conversation.
For better or worse, intermarriage is a defining feature of modern Jewish life. Many synagogues continue to treat it primarily as a demographic challenge, a continuity problem, or a threat to Jewish identity.
While those concerns are legitimate, they often obscure another reality: Millions of non-Jews now have direct relationships with Jews, Jewish families, and Jewish institutions. I’m talking about spouses, partners, parents-in-law, children being raised in partially Jewish homes, friends, neighbors, and colleagues.
Whether Jewish leaders like it or not, these individuals are now part of the extended ecosystem of Jewish life. The question is not whether synagogues should become less Jewish. The question is whether they should become more welcoming.
A synagogue can maintain clear Jewish values, traditions, and expectations while still creating an environment where non-Jewish family members feel respected, informed, and appreciated. Many non-Jewish spouses spend years attending Jewish holiday celebrations, accompanying their families to synagogue events, supporting Jewish causes, and helping raise Jewish children — yet some report feeling like permanent outsiders.
That is both a missed opportunity and an unnecessary barrier to deeper engagement.
The most effective synagogues recognize that every person who walks through their doors influences the strength of the Jewish community, whether they are Jewish or not.
This extends beyond interfaith families. Synagogues should think more broadly about their role within the neighborhoods, cities, and regions they serve. A synagogue that is invisible to its surrounding community should not be surprised when misunderstanding, suspicion, or stereotypes flourish.
Relationships reduce ignorance, familiarity humanizes, and connection builds trust.
When non-Jewish neighbors attend cultural events, volunteer projects, educational programs, concerts, lectures, community service initiatives, or open houses, they gain exposure to real Jews rather than caricatures.
In an era of rising polarization and growing antisemitism, this matters. People are far less likely to demonize communities they know personally. The goal is not public relations. The goal is relationship building.
Of course, synagogues should remain unapologetically Jewish institutions. Their mission is not to dilute Jewish identity or become generic community centers. But they should recognize that welcoming non-Jewish spouses, relatives, friends, and neighbors into appropriate aspects of community life can strengthen Jewish families, build goodwill, expand understanding, and create thousands of new ambassadors for the Jewish people.
A confident Jewish community does not need to hide behind its walls. It can open its doors while remaining firmly rooted in its values.
The future synagogue may look less like a traditional institution and more like a community platform.
Its role is not merely to provide religious services or schooling for children. Its role is to facilitate connections, create experiences, nurture relationships, and help people find purpose, friendship, learning, spirituality, and opportunities to contribute.
More importantly, it should support Jews throughout every stage of life. A child enters through preschool. A teenager discovers leadership opportunities. A college student remains connected digitally. A young professional finds friendships and mentorship. A family raising children finds support and belonging. An empty nester discovers new purpose. An older adult remains connected, valued, and engaged.
The synagogue becomes not merely a place people attend but a platform that helps them build Jewish lives.
In this model, success is not measured solely by membership counts or High Holiday attendance. Success is measured by how deeply people are integrated into Jewish life. The strongest synagogues will think constantly about the journey from prospect to advocate. They will understand that every individual is at a different stage. They will design experiences accordingly.
And they will recognize that modern Jews are not demanding less than previous generations. We are demanding more — more personalization, more relevance, more community, more connection, more value.
The institutions that meet those expectations will thrive. The institutions that continue operating according to assumptions from a previous era may discover that people are not leaving Judaism. They are simply looking elsewhere for the experiences they cannot find inside the synagogue walls.
 | A guest post by
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Supporting Jews at every stage of life, and in every condition of life. I ran into this last year when I had to say Kaddish for my father. I am a member of a synagogue; we pay insane amounts of money for it. But they don't have a daily minyan. Thankfully, I found an online Sephardic minyan, and these wonderful people have welcomed me in, even though I am not Sephardic. But I should not have had to do this. Supporting people who need to say Kaddish is kind of a central function of a synagogue.
Also, it would be nice for at least some synagogues to recognize that some people are immunocompromised and vulnerable to infectious disease. It would cost absolutely nothing to have a few mask-required services here and there so that these folks can safely attend. When my father was dying of cancer, I could not go to any synagogue services because I could not risk infecting him. I am not the only one in this situation.
Very well put and you are absolutely correct. Engagement at every opportunity is exactly what you want. To all of this I have to add, no more machers. In almost every shul I have been a member of, a praetorian guard of machers blocks the synagogue leadership from both new members and those who are there to see if this place is for them. These folks have to be told, in no uncertain terms, move off. Let the newbies find their way without having to learn the secret handshake. The clique culture that operates in our communal organizations is one of the biggest off putting elements that drive people away. Knock it off.