So tell me, why are you here today?

I think it’s fair to say that most people who attend services (whether synagogue or church), come with great expectations. It’s hard not to expect great things from a place that we refer as a ‘house of God.’ We come to synagogue looking for inspiration, insight, spirituality, comfort and a sense of transcendence. We come to mark special moments in our lives and we come to find healing when we are hurt. We want the cantor to uplift us and the rabbi to inspire us.

Most of all we hope to find God. But the sad truth is, I suspect, we often leave disappointed. Institutional religion often doesn’t meet our expectations. It is deeply flawed because while we may call this a house of God it is run by regular people. The most common complaint I hear is that the synagogue often fails people. They’ll say, “Rabbi, services just doesn’t do it for me. It isn’t spiritual enough. It doesn’t inspire me.”

Then again, it might be that we’re looking for the wrong thing and asking the wrong questions while we’re here. Maybe what needs to change is not the synagogue but us!

When Greenberg was about to become president of his congregation he decided to approach some of the regulars to find out why they attended services. He approach Feldman and asked him why he came to shul. Feldman answered, “You know Schwartz who sits in the second row on the right side of the shul near the cantor? He’s a good friend of mine. Schwartz comes to shul to talk to God. I come to talk to Schwartz!”

Synagogues are funny places. People come for a variety of different reasons. Some of us are just passing through while others can’t imagine their lives without a daily or weekly dose of religion. Some people come for the Kiddush and some people, like Feldman, come to see their friends. Whatever the reason you are here we are glad to welcome you! The bottom line is we come with expectations. And those expectations are as old as the Bible.

In our Torah portion this Shabbat we read about the building of the Tabernacle, Israel’s first house of worship. The Torah devotes four hundred and fifty verses to the building of this portable structure. Every Israelite was invited to donate to the building of the mishkan, the tabernacle, and only the best and finest materials were used in this sacred building project. The Torah describes in exacting details how the tabernacle was to be build, what its dimensions were, and how its furnishing were to be constructed. Nothing is left to the imagination.

At the beginning of this portion, we find a promise: v’asu lee mikdash v’shakhanti bitocham. “You shall be a sanctuary for me that I might dwell among them.” If a synagogue or a temple is thought of as a “House of God” it is because of this verse. God promises the people that he dwell among them if they construct a proper place of worship for Him. The Tabernacle was the original ‘field of dreams.’ The Torah implies, “If you build it, God will come.”

It’s interesting to note that the Torah does not say that God will dwell bitokho, within it, but that he will dwell bitokham, among them. The Tabernacle then was meant to be a physical symbol that would give the people a sense that God was in their presence and even more important, that God was present in their hearts – bitokham. In the end isn’t that what we expect a house of worship, a house of God to do for us?

The Haftorah this morning, which Sandra read for us, offers a contrasting view of what why we build a house of God. King Solomon sets out to build a magnificent House of God. But unlike the earlier description of the tabernacle, his place of worship is not based on the description in the Torah but human initiative and creativity. Solomon brings lumber and stones from Lebanon and conscripts the nation in the building of this great house of God. He uses his own wisdom rather than relying on God’s instructions. In the end, however, he too creates a house of God so that God can dwell botokham, among the people, just as God had dwelled among the people in the wilderness.

There is, however, a one major difference between the Mosaic Tabernacle and Solomon’s Temple. It is not the building that inspires the presence of God in the time of Solomon but the people. Our Haftorah concludes: “Then the word of the Lord came to Solomon: ‘With regard to this House you are building – if you follow My laws and observe my rules and faithfully follow my commandments I will fulfill the promise that I made to your father David: I will dwell among the people of Israel and I will never forsake them.’”

There is an interesting and important difference between Moses’ Tabernacle and Solomon’s Temple. In one case we are simply told, “Build it and I’ll be there.” There are no stipulations or conditions on what has to happen in the Tabernacle. In the other case, Israel has a responsibility not only to build a temple worthy of God, but make themselves worthy of the Temple. Only then could God be present in their midst.

So what changed between the time of Moses and Solomon?

I’d like to suggest to you that what we find here is recognition of Israel’s growing spiritual maturity. In the time of the Moses, it was enough for the Israelites to build a temple and offer sacrifices to God. This was, after all a generation of slaves, who were not yet prepared to take on the fullness of the responsibilities of Jewish life. All they really knew was that you served your master by building structures in His honor. This is what they did in Egypt and this is what they did in the wilderness.

By the time of Solomon things had changed. The people still wanted a place of worship and sacrifice but the building of a temple was not enough. God wanted the people to understand that the real dwelling place of God is not in a building but within each person’s heart. We build a house of God by what we do, how we live, and who we are. And so God tells Solomon: “Now you have a place of worship. But remember that the Temple is only as affective as your level of personal commitment and dedication to Me.”

American Judaism has undergone such an evolution in spiritual maturity over the last three or four generations. In the nineteen forties and fifties in the twentieth century, there was a building boom of synagogues throughout America and on Long Island in particular. The first generation of children born to Eastern European Jews began to exert them selves and use their new found success and wealth to create Jewish communities every where. With the influx of Jews into communities throughout Long Island, synagogues began to pop up in every town. This was our field of dreams: We knew that if we built it, they would come. Our synagogues were brimming with members and Conservative Judaism was by far the largest and most influential Jewish denomination in North America.

But things have changed. In recent years the media has been filled dire predictions of the demise of Conservative Judaism. Reform Judaism has overtaken us as the largest religious denomination and we seem powerless to compete with the growing strength of Chabad Judaism. Here on the South Shore of Long Island we see congregations that have been decimated by the changing demographics of our community. We have too many buildings and too few members. The pundits say that there is a growing sense of malaise in the Conservative Movement that was aptly described this week in the most recent issue of the Jerusalem Report.

This is not the time to address all the issues raised in that article. To begin with, things are not nearly as bad as the article would have us believe. And second, whether or not we are growing is not the measure of the Conservative Judaism. I believe that Conservative Judaism as an ideology and an approach to Jewish living represents the most authentic and meaningful approach to Judaism. Even if I was the only Conservative Jew left in America I don’t think I would change who I am. The problem today is not what we have but who we are. We must now answer the call for spiritual maturity and depth. We never really made the transition from the Mosaic “build it and they will come,” to the Solomonic “if you follow My laws and observe my rules and faithfully follow my commandments.”

Synagogues can no longer succeed unconditionally simply because we open them. People today are looking for spiritually active and dynamic communities, and that does not come from a leader or a few people alone. There must be a core of people who are engaged, committed and faithful to what the community represents. There have to be missionaries who are willing to go out and invite people into their homes and lives, and who are not afraid to share their Jewish involvement with others. Successful synagogues demand commitment, engagement, and involvement. What people are looking for can’t be sold or packaged; it has to be experienced. You only learn to swim when you are willing to jump into the water. Unless you get wet, you will never know the joy of the breast stroke and the exhilaration of gliding across the water. It is not enough to say the synagogue is not spiritual enough – you have to create such spirituality.

The spirituality that people are looking for is not in fancier sanctuaries, catchier tunes, or even more involved programs. It’s all about finding the divine within ourselves.

That is the challenge for the next generation of Conservative Judaism. This is not a place for back seat drivers. Whether Conservative Judaism lives or dies will depend on whether we are ready to answer God’s call to Solomon: “If you follow My laws and observe my rules and faithfully follow my commandments I will fulfill the promise…”

The future begins with “If.” It is conditional. It depends on you and me and how we choose to live our Judaism.

My friends, there are great challenges before Conservative Judaism today. We are beginning to address those issues here in our congregation. But this conversation demands the involvement of each and every member of our synagogue. More than that, it challenges us toward engagement and involvement. Whether it is talking to God or talking to Schwartz we all need to be a part of the conversation, and we all need to find that piece of Judaism that speaks to us and challenges us.

“Build it and they will come,” is no longer true. Today we must say, “Live it and others will join you!!”

Shabbat Shalom