Jewish World Review / June 16, 1998 / 22 Iyar, 5758

Atlantans Moshe Lerner and daughter, Carmel, 4, celebrating Israel's 50th birthday with some down-home fun.

They keep coming

By Neil Rubin

TO MY PLEASANT SURPRISE, a young Jewish professional -- a new transplant from Los Angeles -- was in our building's cafeteria for lunch this week.

As we dove into our veggie plates, we talked about jobs, families and politics. I occasionally tossed out topics from the Jewish Times. His lack of understanding of area Jewish life was not surprising.

Nor was his absence of desire learn more.

To use the cliche, he represents the challenge. According to statistics I recently heard, some 20,000 people a month move to metropolitan Atlanta. The Jewish ones come with no allegiance to Jewish life here.

Those of us here five years or feel the growth. Back in 1991, I arrived fresh from Baltimore and heard much talk about the city's uncontrolled surging population. I scoffed at the provincialism. Now I want to talk about it over some coffee at the Snack'N Shop, that rare Jewish Atlanta landmark which closed for good 15 months ago.

Today, venues such as it, the Midtown AJCC and the old Jewish neighborhoods are irrelevant history to the majority of Jews here, a handful of whom gathered on a recent Sunday for the Atlanta Jewish Community Center "newcomers tour" of Atlanta.

I doubt if any in that group moved here to better their Jewish life. For them, and truth be told for me, Atlanta is a land of economic and lifestyles opportunity. Fortunately, this group actively sought to connect with Jewish life.

Most don't.

And the rest of us still don't take enough time to understand who they are, which will determine how we can connect to them.

The 1996 Atlanta Jewish Federation Population Study best tells the story. Every few months I peruse it when reviewing our editorial direction because I firmly believe that most planning decisions in Jewish life are made more with emotion than data, a prescription for failure.

The survey dashes forever the notion of a quaint, tight-knit southern Jewish community. Consider this:

• That accent you hear isn't just Canadian Jews saying "eh" and "hoser." One in 10 area Jews were born in another country. There are now subcommunities here of Jews from Iran, Israel, Latin America, South Africa, Russia and elsewhere.

• More than one in four of us -- 27 percent to be exact -- have lived here four years or less. These people are not Atlanta Jews, but Jews who live in the Atlanta area. How can we craft for them a local identity that binds us together, even if loosely? Mass one-shot programs like the Jewish Festival and the recent Israel Independence Day street festival go a long way in that effort.

  "Jewish by association" won't work. The closest thing to a Jewish neighborhood is a few blocks in Toco Hills, no more than 50 percent of which is Jewish. Besides, when many newer Jews hear the section's name, they think it's a cheap Taco Bell competitor.

• Only another quarter of us were born here. So for the 75 percent of us who have lived here for a while, a long while, core emotions lie elsewhere. The parents and grandparents of these people started synagogues, Jewish fund raising initiatives and schools elsewhere. And many of them likely still send annual donations to hometown institutions.

  This, at least, in part accounts for the low percentage numbers of Jews joining synagogues or anything else Jewish, not to mention the low median level of giving.

It's not that our communal honchos haven't attempted to respond to this. The past decade has seen the opening of no less than six new full congregations and at least 10 new Jewish organizations and agencies, including three Jewish private schools. And the Federation's community capital campaign, once it's work is done, will have garnered more than $60 million to improve or construct of more than 10 buildings. But it is simply impossible to keep up with the mushrooming needs.

These are the stark realities of Jewish life here. We cannot seek to bring our newcomers into the community if we seek to build on its foundations. We need to lay a new base, which means taking a risk and even offending some of the established stalwart supporters. That means shirking old loyalties and personal preferences everywhere from our funding allocations committees to our programming initiatives.

There are signs that many are prepared to do this. Hopefully, enough of us will have the courage to continue with the risks involved, which is the only lasting path to the rewards of a more vibrant, visible and confident larger Jewish community.

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JWR contributor Neil Rubin is Editor of the Atlanta Jewish Times.

6/16/98: They keep coming (The growth of Atlanta Jewry)
5/27/98: What a show today!
Passover, 1998: Wait! You're not finished!
3/29/98: April means Passover ... and baseball