27. Outreach
Is there any way to stem the tide?
The 2020 Pew survey of Jewish Americans indicated that intermarriage among the non-Orthodox stands at 72 percent. That is very much our problem: We need all hands on deck to spread awareness of Hashem and His plan for the world to the rest of humanity, and the non-Orthodox represent a massive number of people who could be brought in to help the cause. As Jews, we need their contribution in order to accomplish the mission we’ve been given.
Even on a personal, “selfish” level, the Rambam’s presentation of the mitzvah of ahavas Hashem includes informing others of the richness and beauty of a relationship with the Creator of the world.1 The principle of kol Yisrael areivim zeh la’zeh teaches that we function not as individuals, but as a nation. Therefore, I haven’t fully completed my mitzvah until every other Jew has done the same. Even after I’ve performed a mitzvah, such as lulav or shofar, myself, halachah allows me to make a brachah on behalf of another Jew who hasn’t yet fulfilled his mitzvah — because as long as he hasn’t done his, I haven’t really done mine.2 Finally, halachah applies the rules of hashavas aveidah and lo saamod al dam rei’echa not only to physical loss or danger, but to spiritual parallels as well.3 These sources indicate that taking responsibility for another Jew’s spiritual well-being is the concern of everyone in the community, not just the outreach professional.
What is there to do? When I started working as an advisor for NCSY, I was totally focused on content. I outlined curriculums for teens in public school, pushed for extra learning opportunities on Shabbatons, and offered weekly chavrusos with a number of teens. Towards the end of my first year, one of my mentors pointed out that there’s another approach which is at least as important, and probably more important, than conveying content: developing relationships. Content is of course crucial and needs to be done well, but knowledge alone, generally speaking, does not move people. A person inspired by a powerful idea or a great shiur who doesn’t have someone who can guide them and encourage them to make long-term change will have to struggle greatly to make progress. A connection with a mentor, though, can serve as an anchor which enables them to keep working, one step at a time.
The current system pours millions of dollars into a professional-first model: different organizations work with different communities and ages, such as teens, collegiates, young professionals, and established families. However, after decades of work by numerous organizations on these fronts, the most recent Pew report indicates that this model is not really stemming the tide; only three percent of individuals who currently identify as Orthodox grew up either Reform, Conservative, or totally disconnected from religion.4 That is a drop in the bucket, especially compared to the 71 percent intermarriage rate; what more can be done? One obvious point is the numbers issue: a single outreach professional cannot manufacture significant interactions with every family in his community on a consistent basis; he’s limited by the number of people with which he can form strong relationships. But there’s an obvious, if not easy, solution to that.
We need every frum family to reach out and develop relationships with non-Orthodox families and individuals, what Rabbi Noach Weinberg, founder of Aish HaTorah, called “Awakening the Sleeping Giant” of the frum community. This should be incredibly powerful — and so simply done! If you live on a block with a mix of Orthodox and non-Orthodox families, have one over for a Shabbos meal and begin developing a relationship with them. Then take the next step, accepting your mission in the Battalion: Speak to other families on the block and encourage them to invite those families, as well. If you work with a non-Orthodox colleague, invite them over for something; depending on how far they live and who your posek is, Shabbos may not be an option, but there are a number of other opportunities to share an experience with them, such as a Chanukah party. The Shabbos and Yom Tov experience that we take for granted is a thing of incredible beauty and rarity for most people outside of Orthodoxy; how often does a family sit together, sing, and talk about their week? This can’t be relegated to a once-a-year encounter on the week of the Shabbos Project; we have to run with this responsibility throughout the year.5
The significant side benefit of such a campaign is that it nudges every family involved on the hosting side to 1) think more carefully about the way they conduct their Shabbos table, and 2) to begin to see themselves as ambassadors of Judaism to the wider world. Such a self-image can only improve their interest and investment in their own Judaism. Rabbi Steven Burg, CEO of Aish, likes to describe this as the lesson he learned from a Mormon colleague.6 They send their youth out to knock on doors for a year or two trying to convert people, but they have no idea as to how many people are brought in — because it’s not really about them. Rather, the point is for their young adults to have the fortifying experience of discussing and advocating for their religion, driving it deep into their psyches. Inviting a non-Orthodox family over and thinking about, and sometimes discussing, some of the related questions can have a similar effect.
Those who grew up in a non-Orthodox community and joined Orthodoxy on their own have a unique opportunity here: their relationships with the communities in which they grew up gives them an opening that others don’t have. They likely have a number of friends from their childhood; rather than cutting off ties with them, attempting to maintain the relationship and expose them to the benefits of an Orthodox life can be tremendously powerful.
Sefer HaMitzvos #3.
Ran to Rif, Rosh Hashanah 8a.
Minchas Chinuch 239:4.
See the penultimate paragraph in Rabbi Dr. Jacob J. Schachter’s contribution to this article: https://jewishaction.com/jewish-world/where-we-are/.
An interesting source for such an approach could come from Hakhel. The Torah’s introduction to the mitzvah of Hakhel lists “Ha’anashim, ha’nashim v’ha’taf, v’geircha asher bisharecha — the men, the women, and the children, and the geirim in your gates” as those who are meant to participate. A number of Rishonim and Acharonim (Ibn Ezra, Lechem Yehudah on Rambam Hilchos Chagigah 3:1, Emes L’Yaakov to Devarim 31:12) comment that the word “geircha” is not a reference to a convert, a geir tzedek, but to a geir toshav, a non-Jew who has accepted the sheva mitzvos bnei Noach. If so, though, why is he listed among those who are meant to attend Hakhel? It’s clearly not one of their seven mitzvos!
The Ibn Ezra writes, “U’lai yis’yaheid — Maybe he’ll become Jewish!” This understanding highlights two salient points: first, we are meant to take responsibility for even a geir toshav becoming Jewish; kal va’chomer that the same would hold true for a Jew not currently connected. Second, it indicates the potential of an inspiring experience to provide the impetus for such a decision — and, like the mitzvah to bring children to Hakhel, it is our job to facilitate it!
https://www.jeducation.org/podcast/episode/2e676e57/24-rabbi-steve-burg-parenting-like-a-ceo
Great article, I think the perspective you're sharing is vital and under-valued. It strikes me that one issue, upstream from the one you discuss here, is many frum families' fear of secular influences on their children (or themselves). Human relationships always flow in both directions, and potentially effective mekarevim don't begin because they fear (perhaps rightly) that they cannot navigate that two-way street. Before we mobilize the masses, we need to create "hashkafically antifragile" communities.
Another kiruv dynamic that fascinates me is how we "market" Judaism to the nonreligious. The focus is generally on answering their implicit question, "What will Judaism contribute to my life?" But I think many secular Jews beginning their religious journey have other, nobler questions that they are subtly discouraged from asking: What will my life contribute to Judaism? To what extent will my unique worldview and creativity find fertile soil? Mainstream kiruv generally ignores this fundamental need to create and contribute, perhaps because - once again - it fears what "negative influences" will enter. But if we look at the success of sites like Sefaria or the Lehrhaus, or publishers like Koren, so much of their appeal stems from the fact that they're encouraging diverse thinkers to offer new lenses on classic texts. How many more Jews would enthusiastically engage with these texts if they new that their ideas would find a deeply receptive and thoughtful audience?