In 586 B.C.E., the Babylonians, under King Nebuchadnezzar, decimated the Temple in Jerusalem, forever ending ancient Israelite culture. With the Temple destroyed and most of its worshipers exiled to Babylon, it seemed that God had left His “Chosen People.” Yet, after defeating the Babylonians in 539 B.C.E., King Cyrus the Great of the Persian Achaemendid Empire issued a decree in 538 B.C.E., inviting the Jews back to their land where he fully supported the rebuilding of the Temple. With the Second Temple rebuilt circa 516 B.C.E., the Jews could once again meet God in His earthly house.
But where do we meet God now? The Romans destroyed the Second Temple in 70 C.E., and another Temple proper has yet to make an appearance (and, considering the current political situation, it seems unlikely that one ever will). God no longer visits His people en masse as He did when living at 26 Temple Sq., Jerusalem, Israel, 91000. With the advent of Rabbinic Judaism (and its successor “normative Judaism”) which initially stemmed from Pharasaic Judaism, it seems that God would visit the Jews in the local synagogue. Today, many still believe this, at least figuratively. But a problem presents itself: the schul no longer serves as the locus of all Jewish life. People attend services less frequently than they used to, and do not study on a regular basis. Social life within the temple has virtually vanished.
Polls indicate that more and more Jews of the coming generation (college- and graduate-aged), especially those of the Reform and Conservative movements, see no reason to become members of synagogues. Some feel estranged from their denomination or movement, others simply get nothing out of it. Some prefer to daven online. Regardless of the reason, it seems clear: in the next generation, the temple will barely serve the Jewish community at all, except for the High Holidays and life-cycle events. With this in mind, we must re-ask ourselves: where do we meet God?
The time has come for each of us to ponder this question individually. I know Him in my first breath of waking, as my soul is returned to me. I meet Him on the street, when my eyes fall upon a stranger’s face. I see him in the sky, the twinkling stars, His eyes, winking at me. I feel Him in the wind and warm sun, the breeze caressing my face and the heat embracing me. I hear Him in the sound of the birds, their voices so pure and sweet. I smell Him in the flowers, their scent refreshing my soul. I taste Him in all that I find good to eat, my vitality restored. I remember Him before I go to bed, to rest my body. He watches over me as I sleep, my dreams His creation, and of course, I meet Him during prayer at temple. In short, I meet God everywhere, or at least try to realize so, and while this works for me, it might not for everyone else.
Thus, we find ourselves, ironically, in the same position as long ago. The destruction of the First Temple tore at the very fiber of Israelite society, and everyone knew it. The people felt it necessary to meet God daily; they had to rebuild his house, and they did. Today, we have many temples, yet few attract our generation. Jews of today do not make a conscious effort to talk to God, and we might not even notice that we do not.
So if we do not make the effort in the synagogue, how can we meet God? Where do we meet God?
Born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, David Bloom attends Indiana University Bloomington where he majors in Jewish Studies and Religious Studies. His column, J-Studs, appears here on alternating Saturdays.
