By Rabbi Ya’akov Trump
Rabbis lead extraordinarily demanding lives. At any given moment, there are countless individuals who require attention, guidance, or support. The work of the rabbinate is a continuous act of balancing: weighing urgent needs against those that are less immediate; addressing educational, pastoral, programmatic, and organizational responsibilities; and tending to every demographic within a diverse and evolving community.
Under these pressures, a particular mindset naturally develops—one that prioritizes programs and initiatives capable of reaching the largest number of people at once. The logic is intuitive: if an event attracts more participants, then more individuals have been served by the shul and the broader Jewish community. In this framework, the rabbi inevitably becomes the gatekeeper, responsible for determining which programs, speakers, and organizations will best serve the “majority.” Anything that touches only a small subset of the community can feel difficult to justify. When resources and time are limited, such calculations often seem necessary.
That is—until Rabbi Moshe Hauer reframed the conversation.
When Rabbi Hauer invited me to join a rabbinic chabura of more than twenty rabbis from across North America, he offered us the gift of each other: a space to think collectively, to share challenges, and to problem-solve together. Among the issues he placed squarely on the table was one that too often goes unaddressed: the challenge of genuine inclusivity.
Rabbi Hauer urged us to reconsider the very metrics by which we evaluate communal success. A community’s value, he argued, should not be measured by how many people attend a program, but by how deeply and authentically it includes those who might otherwise remain unseen. Inclusivity means noticing the individuals who do not fit neatly into the standard categories around which communal life is often organized. This idea shifted my thinking in a profound way.
At one meeting, Rabbi Hauer posed a simple but revealing question: “Do you know how many members of your shul are single?”
It is the kind of question that seems obvious only after someone has asked it. I pulled out our membership list—and was startled. Among our 500 families, over 40 member units consist of individuals living alone. Nearly 10% of our community is single, including those who have never married, those who are divorced, and those who are widowed. Creating that list was not merely an exercise; it was an awakening.
The next step was deeper: understanding what this portion of our community needs, and how we can better ensure they feel truly included.
Through the guidance of Rabbi Hauer and the thoughtful cohort of rabbis he brought together, I learned several practical and meaningful ways to move the needle on this issue:
- Membership Applications Matter
Does the form assume a family by default? Or is there a distinct, dignified single-member option? Such details, though small, communicate whether a community sees its members as they are.
- Representation on Committees
When we form event committees, do we include a single member of the shul? Their perspective can influence not only the program itself but also its tone and messaging, ensuring that all feel welcome.
- Holidays Require Sensitivity
Yamim Tovim are times of joy—but for those living alone, they can be emotionally and financially challenging. Pesach in particular magnifies feelings of isolation. A hospitality committee dedicated to checking in and helping everyone find a place to go can make all the difference. The OU now provides an excellent checklist to guide shuls in this effort.
- Listen With Humility
We often assume we know what people need. But nothing replaces a genuine phone call and a willingness to hear someone’s lived experience.
- Create Opportunities for Connection
Monthly communal Shabbos meals are wonderful. But instead of designing them exclusively for singles, combining singles with empty nesters promotes natural social connection. Both groups value companionship—and both stand to benefit from such gatherings.
Rabbi Hauer challenged us to do better. He asked our institutions to think beyond attendance numbers and program metrics, and instead to build communities in which every individual—regardless of status, circumstance, or family configuration—feels seen, valued, and embraced.
It is, of course, a lofty aspiration. But it is also one that lies at the very heart of our values as a Jewish community.
Our shul still has much work ahead. Yet we are deeply grateful to have encountered Rabbi Hauer’s vision—a vision that demands not only more programming, but more heart; not merely broader reach, but deeper connection. Our shul has been blessed to have been exposed to Rabbi Hauer and his dream. We hope to continue along the path he created.
Rabbi Ya’akov Trump serves as the Rabbi of the vibrant community of the Young Israel of Lawrence Cedarhurst. His podcast can be found on all major platforms. He recently released the Tanach Yomi App allowed thousands of people around the world to study all Tanach with ease. He has served on many community organizations including the RCA and the Vaad Hakashrus of the 5 Towns and Far Rockaway.
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