My Synagogue’s ‘Anti-Semitism Tax’ More than 5% of our budget goes to security against mass shootings and other violence. By Howard Husock
“Yet when I reviewed the budgets of mainline Protestant churches in my own community, I found no security line items remotely on par with those in my synagogue. Maybe we are more fearful because of our history, but the Jewish community has been the greatest target of religious-based hate crimes in the U.S. since official reporting started more than a quarter-century ago. The numbers have risen in recent years.”
For the most part, serving on my synagogue’s board of trustees hasn’t involved dramatic decisions. Usually we discuss routine matters such as how to pay for repairs on the house we provide our rabbi. During the pandemic, we debated whether to open the preschool or refund parents’ payments. But over the past several years a more worrisome matter has appeared on our agenda. I call it the anti-Semitism tax.
More than 5% of our budget is now devoted to security to protect the congregation. That’s more than $150,000 a year to prevent tragedies like the deadly attack on Pittsburgh’s Tree of Life synagogue in 2018 or the hostage-taking at Congregation Beth Israel in Colleyville, Texas, in January. We had long used funds to hire off-duty cops for the High Holidays to direct traffic, but this is much more serious.
Every Jewish congregation is, as they say in accounting, a tub on its own bottom. There’s no diocese or sanhedrin to provide financial support. Membership dues keep the lights on. Security spending comes at the expense of other budget items: building repairs, new books for the library, or lower tuition for preschool parents, a key source of the new members we need to thrive as a community of believers. Ours is a reasonably well-off congregation, but those that aren’t face hard choices.
“Congregations have had to invest both in physical infrastructure and ongoing security personnel and processes,” observes Rabbi Jacob Blumenthal, who heads the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism. “Synagogues would obviously rather spend on our core functions of study, worship, volunteerism and community building.”
We Jews are hardly the only religious people at risk. There have been numerous shootings at religious sites in recent years, most notably at the Mother Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, S.C., (nine dead), the First Baptist Church of Sutherland Springs, Texas (26 dead), and the Sikh temple of Oak Creek, Wis. (six dead). About 80% of Protestant pastors say they have some security measures in place, according to a 2019 Lifeway Research survey.
Yet when I reviewed the budgets of mainline Protestant churches in my own community, I found no security line items remotely on par with those in my synagogue. Maybe we are more fearful because of our history, but the Jewish community has been the greatest target of religious-based hate crimes in the U.S. since official reporting started more than a quarter-century ago. The numbers have risen in recent years.
The government acknowledges that houses of worship, generally, can be targets for attack. Federal Emergency Management Agency grants are available for purposes such as “hardening” a building’s perimeter. The new federal Nonprofit Security Grant Program allows such assistance for any “at-risk” nonprofit—a bow to the Constitution’s Establishment Clause—and Congress appropriated $180 million in 2021 for protective measures.
Yet as a minor synagogue official, I find this less than reassuring. I’m chary, in the first place, about the message sent by the synagogue as fortress. We risk giving prospective new members the impression that attending shul is dangerous.
I’m also concerned about turning to government at all. Historically, Jewish communities have been devoutly self-reliant, whether in Jerusalem, Warsaw or Shanghai—including in times of far greater risk than today. Seeking government help brings implicit complications. Will we be safe only in years of budget surpluses? Will tension arise as those of various faiths compete for funds? There already are more grant seekers than grants. For 2021 less than half of all Nonprofit Security Grant applications received funding.
We Jews have never taken government wisdom or good judgment for granted. Each week we offer a special prayer for our government, asking that God teach officials “insights from your Torah” such that “peace and security may abide in our midst.” Note the use of “may.” The perceived need for such a prayer shows that we take nothing for granted.
Still, for my part, when it came to a vote, mine was an aye on the budget that included security spending. Notwithstanding the Talmudic thinking above, I found I couldn’t be the one to vote nay.
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