Paying to Belong

There’s a religious Jewish movement called Chabad, which is famous for being pretty aggressive about outreach. When my family was visiting Italy one fall, it was members of Chabad that spotted us and welcomed us, inviting us to join them for services and dinner. Their energy can also be alienating: if you so much as walk on the streets of Brooklyn on a holiday like Passover with brown hair, or hey even with hair, period, a Chabadnik will probably approach you and ask if you’re Jewish. But Chabad, unlike other more dour and insular Hasidic groups, puts an emphasis on DIY, populist joy — dancing, singing — and bringing people together. That’s one of the reasons it’s growing. The other reason? It doesn’t charge membership dues.

As their website puts it, “Most often a Chabad House does not charge membership — if you are Jewish, you are a member.”

It’s a nice idea! It’s also the kind of idea that makes most rabbis go, “Oy vey.”

Most synagogues rely on annual membership dues which, for families, are in the four-figures. Most American Jews don’t belong to synagogues. The NYT this week connected the dots and, in the process, started a much needed conversation about paying to belong.

three years ago, the congregation [in Michigan] — with some trepidation — took a dramatic step. It eliminated mandatory dues and instead began sending its members an annual letter describing the synagogue’s costs, and asking them to pledge whatever they could.

With that move, Temple Kol Ami joined a striking new trend in American Jewish life. In what amounts to the first systematic rethinking of synagogue financing in a century, about 30 Reform, Conservative and independent synagogues across the United States have eliminated mandatory dues — all but a handful of them in the past five years. …

most of the congregations that have moved to voluntary pledging say it has been a success. On average, according to the UJA-Federation report, they have reported a 4 percent growth in both members and revenues, even as many congregations are declining on both fronts.

That finding is also backed up by a recent case study from eJewishPhilanthropy.

There are many issues here but one of the primary ones is that Jews cannot simply pass the hat at shul, the way Christians do at church. Jews are not supposed to carry money, let alone spend it, on Shabbes. So how do they keep the lights on, especially in a way that feels fair?

According to the Forward, which compared religious institutions from similar neighborhoods, churches and synagogue raise roughly the same amount of money per member, though they go about the process differently.

Both [churches and synagogues] around half their income from regular fees paid by members. But, like virtually all American churches, Heavenly Rest does not charge dues. Like most synagogues, Ahavath Achim does.

At Ahavath Achim, those fees are assigned by the synagogue, with each family paying up to $2,100 per year. Annual pledges at Heavenly Rest? As much, or as little, as you can give. While only one-third of member families participate in the church’s annual pledge drive, those that do give an average of $2,700 — far more than the cost of dues at Ahavath Achim. …

the median amount of funds raised per-capita by synagogues was found to be $660, only slightly higher than the church’s $640.

Ben and I belong to a synagogue — yes, like actually belong, in a dues-paying way, because we are unicorns — and we paid the fee in full when we could. Once we moved to a further away neighborhood, had a kid, and both went freelance, though, giving over that much money each year began to feel less tenable. In our case, the solution was simple: we talked to one nice lady on the phone and came up with a figure that felt more reasonable and still allowed us to feel like we were contributing. We emerged from that phone call with our dignity, and our connection to the shul, intact.

In our case, though, we were willing to make the effort because we like the shul so much, from its shabby but colorful old building to its shabby but colorful old rabbi. Do high dues keep young Jews away, generally speaking, or are they a useful excuse, and more symptomatic of a larger problem millennials have with institutions? Like, if we all go, “Tear down this paywall!” and the wall comes crumbling down, will young Jews suddenly join synagogues, or at least the ones that appeal to their interests? I would be curious to see.

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