Dear Members and Friends,

Two months ago, I went to a football game — for the first time. Someone donated two tickets to the silent auction at our Journal Dinner-Dance, and my friend, Father Roy, won the tickets and invited me to join him. It was his first time as well. I had been to baseball games before, and even though the stadiums are shaped differently, here too, it was hard to ignore the massiveness of this arena. It was as though we were sitting at the ancient Roman Coliseum, watching gladiators in combat. It was a cold day but fairly sunny, and it seemed as though only a few of the 80,000 seats at MetLife Stadium were empty. It was the New York Giants vs. the Carolina Panthers. Yes, that historic game!

After a quick stop at the kosher hotdog stand, we were ready to take our seats. The black guy behind the counter was the only one at the stand not wearing a yarmulke so I assumed he was not Jewish. It didn’t prevent him from telling me with a perfect Yiddish accent, “They’ll be davening Mincha at half time.” When half time arrived and a third of the audience left without returning, it was not because they all went to daven Mincha, but because the score was 35-7 Panthers, who were undefeated the whole season. No one sensible thought the Giants stood a chance; nevertheless, hard-core lovers of the game were going to stick it out to the end.

At that point, we were deeply involved in the experience, not so much in the game but in a conversation about the game. As clergy, we are aware that houses of worship in America consistently struggle with declining attendance, and we were in awe of the huge crowd at the arena. What is it that makes all these people leave their houses on Sunday — a day of rest — deal with heavy traffic and parking issues, and pay a good amount of money to sit outside in the cold? All of this, just to watch a competition over a ball? There must be something more. Conversely, what are we missing in synagogues and churches?

In the recent movie Concussion, Dr. Bennet Omalu, the pathologist who kept finding brain damage in football players, was warned by his colleague not to make waves because “The NFL owns a day of the week — the same day that church used to own. Now it’s theirs!” The thousands who attended the game that day chose it over church. And the same can be said about the synagogue on Shabbat.

While we were having our philosophical discussion, somehow the Giants made a comeback. With a minute and 46 seconds left, they scored another touchdown and tied the game at 35-35. Wow, we are now jumping up and down and cheering for the Giants, hardly believing that the game actually pulled us in. I felt like a person who comes to synagogue or a class for the first time, out of curiosity, and by the end of the service or class is fully engaged. But still, the NFL and other secular activities seem to win the day. Perhaps we should look at ourselves.

In the opening of his book, God in Search of Man, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, acknowledged this disparity in 1955 when he wrote:

“It is customary to blame secular science and anti-religious philosophy for the eclipse of religion in modern society. It would be more honest to blame religion for its own defeats. Religion declined not because it was refuted, but because it became irrelevant, dull, oppressive, insipid. When faith is completely replaced by creed, worship by discipline, love by habit; when the crisis of today is ignored because of the splendor of the past; when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain; when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion — its message becomes meaningless.”

The issues Rabbi Heschel pointed out essentially remove religious experience from the houses of worship. By avoiding vibrant and relevant discussions, those who attend services become spectators rather than participants. If we perceive people in the pews the same as those in the bleachers, we will continue to lose. If religious services become merely a show, then, of course modern day Roman-like arenas with gladiators are a lot more impressive.

Fortunately, at Tifereth Israel, we make a point to stay vibrant and relevant through energetic discussions, and we further engage with our neighboring houses of worship. We all understand that we are not spectators, but the main players in the Super Bowl of Life.

God bless, and please join us,

—Rabbi Gadi Capela