One evening this summer my husband and I took out my little convertible for some “convertible therapy.” We were driving up Route 309, turned left and passed the Leather Corner Post Bar and Grill. We stopped the car and went in.
We have an attachment to the establishment. When we first moved to town we were taken there for its Boomba Night, where old timers make a racket to polka tunes and Beach Boys songs. My husband instantly fell in love with that indigenous instrument of the Lehigh Valley. We hail from New York City and San Juan, so the ways of the Lehigh Valley were new to us. We knew nothing about the Great Putz, Pennsylvania Dutch or the Boomba.
My husband bought one that night and even got an upgrade by acquiring a little Schlitz girl to go on top. We had a great time and vowed we would come back. Unfortunately we never did, but keep up the Boomba spirit once a year during the Passover seder, when David brings it out and accompanies our singing with stirring rhythms.
Now 15 years later, when we asked the bartender about the Boomba Night, she told us that the tradition died out – nobody does that any more. We were both devastated for we somehow wanted to believe that, even if we didn’t do it, this quaint custom would always be there.
I think that is how people view religious institutions. They do not want to attend, they do not want to financially support them but they want them to exist, just in case.
I was speaking, not too long ago to a minister from Germany. He said the churches in Europe were state-funded. No one attended services except for life-cycle events. The Europeans wanted the religious institutions to exist and were willing to use their tax dollars to support them but they did not want to sit in the pews on Sunday morning. In the United States, we have a separation of church and state. Here, religious institutions are financially supported by the congregants. Still we have the same problem as the Europeans; often our sanctuaries are empty. The donations and membership are down.
When I was young living in Long Island we belonged to a very prosperous synagogue. People were happy to give, attend and belong. They felt it was their responsibility and honor to make sure that their synagogue would thrive. They took great pride in the beauty of their sanctuary.
The congregants were those who served in our military in World War II, or those who escaped the horrors of the Holocaust, or had a loved one who did. They knew that Judaism could have been taken away from them or the Jewish people could have been obliterated from the face of the earth. To them synagogue membership literally was a matter of life and death.
In contemporary American society, we have none of the crises of the Holocaust. Our crises are more of a personal nature. When our loved one dies, we want to honor them with a funeral conducted by a clergy person. When we have a joyous event such as a birth or wedding many of us want to have the moment sanctified by having them in a beautiful church, yet for the rest of the time faith communities are not high on our list of priorities.
But just like the Boomba Night, if you do not attend or show any interest it might disappear. Our religious institutions are there 365 days a year every year and would like you to come and feel the presence of God.
This was originally published in the September 20 edition of the Morning Call. Here is the link to the article:
http://www.mcall.com/features/religion/mc-faith-sussman-boomba-synagogue-20130920,0,1625790.story