The Unheard Voices: Why Jews Are Leaving the Fold
Over the last few years, I’ve had many conversations with Jewish people who feel isolated and feel like they don’t belong to a synagogue or can’t find a synagogue that speaks to them. And here’s some of what I’ve heard:
Many feel that synagogues and Jewish institutions don’t reflect the full diversity of the Jewish community. Jews of Color, LGBTQ+ Jews, and Jews from different cultural or ethnic backgrounds often express that their identities aren’t fully acknowledged or celebrated in “traditional” Jewish spaces. When people walk into a synagogue and don’t see themselves represented—in the leadership, in the membership, or even in the cultural practices—it sends a message, intentional or not, that this space might not be for them. Representation is more than a token gesture; it’s the cornerstone of creating a community where everyone can feel they belong.
Others talk about a mismatch between their spiritual needs and what many synagogues currently offer. Younger generations, and increasingly people across all age groups, seek dynamic, meaningful experiences that connect their spirituality to social issues they care about—like racial justice, environmental responsibility, and community service. Yet, if the services and teachings don’t speak to their core values or the world they live in, they might search elsewhere for spiritual fulfillment. For some, traditional prayer structures feel distant from the world they actually inhabit, and they desire spaces that feel more immediate and relevant.
This feeling of disconnect is compounded by experiences of bias that still occur within some Jewish spaces. Jews of Color, women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and other marginalized groups often speak of microaggressions and, at times, overt discrimination within Jewish institutions. For those who’ve experienced such harm, returning to these spaces can feel not only unwelcome but painful. Bias in the Jewish community is a very real barrier that limits who feels safe and supported in Jewish spaces.
Financial barriers are another challenge. Synagogues often rely on membership dues and fees, making people feel that belonging requires a financial threshold they cannot meet. For individuals and families without the means to pay for membership or events, the financial expectation can send an unintended message that belonging comes with a price tag. In this way, economic barriers keep some on the periphery, creating yet another form of exclusion.
For those from interfaith or nontraditional family backgrounds, feelings of exclusion can also run deep. While many Jewish institutions have made strides toward inclusion, some interfaith families still feel the weight of skepticism or judgment. For those who don’t fit into certain established molds, even a hint of suspicion can be enough to turn them away, making them feel that they don’t belong in the community that should support them.
Moreover, some people feel judged for their level of Jewish observance or knowledge. In communities where there is a perceived hierarchy of Jewishness, where observance and knowledge are silently measured, people can feel as if they’re constantly being assessed. For those whose Jewish practice is more liberal or personal, or whose Jewish identity is still evolving, this kind of atmosphere can be alienating. Not everyone finds meaning in the same rituals or beliefs, and feeling that there’s only one “right” way to be Jewish shuts doors rather than opening them.
As society changes, many Jews today also want to experience community and connection outside traditional synagogue structures. Independent minyanim, community centers, social justice collectives, and online spaces draw people who don’t see synagogues as their only path to Jewish identity and community. These emerging spaces offer more flexibility and may be able to respond more quickly to the cultural and spiritual needs of their participants. In these alternative communities, people can often find a sense of belonging, purpose, and expression that they may feel is missing in synagogue settings.
Addressing these varied challenges requires more than just incremental change—it demands reimagining what the Jewish community can look like. To create truly inclusive spaces, we must reflect the diversity of our community not only in our programs but in our leadership, our language, and our values. Jewish communities and institutions must continually work to make belonging accessible and genuine, moving from representation as a goal to true inclusion as a practice.
What’s at stake here is more than just membership numbers or synagogue attendance. It’s the broader question of how we hold each other and support one another as a community. At the heart of Judaism is the value of kehilla, community, rooted in the idea that we are responsible for one another. A thriving Jewish community doesn’t just welcome everyone; it actively celebrates and values everyone’s presence, providing spaces where each person feels seen, respected, and empowered. It’s a high calling, but one that speaks to the very core of our tradition—a tradition that urges us to build a community where everyone feels they have a place, a voice, and a sense of belonging.
Yes. Yes yes yes to all this. It's so sad to see so many Jewish communities still suffering from the same blindness that drove me out decades ago. I know some people learn slower than others but I think it's long past time for Jewish established institutions to recognize these problems and do better.
Thank you Rabbi Sandra for shining a light on this movement. As someone who has dancing at the margins of various Jewish communities, and appreciating the proliferation of alternative spaces, it is vital that mainstream Jewish institutions come to see what must be done to maintain the actual unity of the Jewish people in this time of chaos and crisis. L’shavuah tov v’chaim tovim.