Over the past few decades our expectations of close relationships have changed. In the past, we were content with stability. To be partnered with someone reliable, dependable and solid was good, or at least good enough. Nowadays, we want more.

Terry Real, a Jewish American expert in relationships, describes the shift from stability to needing something deeper. We want to feel heard, cherished and known by our partners. We want intimacy.

Terry charts two societal forces that have driven us far from intimacy and left us lonely and bereft in the process.

The first is that of post-enlightenment Western individualism, which presents the ideal of humanity as an independent rock rather than an interconnected group.

The second is the long history of patriarchy that paints some people as better and more powerful than others.

Patriarchy stops us joining another on the same level. Individualism tells us that there is no value in joining another in the first place. Both result in the greatest health epidemic that we are facing today, loneliness.

As we move out of the pandemic, our focus has now turned to how we can revive synagogue communities.

What can we learn from Terry to help us? I would argue that the same need we have for intimacy in one-to-one relationships is true in our faith communities.

Historically it was sufficient for a shul to offer stability. Indeed, when the United Synagogue was founded more than 150 years ago and until the recent era, it flourished by providing a safe and stable Jewish space. The services were austere and formal but they were regular and reassuring.

The rabbi was present in times of need and his sermons spoke of ethics and morals that helped give value and direction. There were committees that helped each person contribute to the community, which was personally rewarding.

The synagogue institution, despite its hierarchical nature, helped people locate themselves and grounded them.

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Chicken soup is the basis of Jewish Sabbath and holiday meals (Photo: Getty Images)

There was a sense of nostalgia, tradition, history, formality and comfort. Let’s call this chicken soup.

Some restaurants still have chicken soup on the menu. I always find this slightly humorous. Not only because my grandmother really does make the best chicken soup in the world (this is, of course, objective fact), but because it just seems so boring.

Please do not think that a good Ashkenazi rabbi would eschew the glory of chicken soup. Quite on the contrary. In the proper place and time, it is a wonder of Jewish comfort. It’s just that I want more from my culinary night out. I want sparkle.

Shuls need to offer more on their menu. We need to provide intimacy. Ultimately, Judaism is about connection. Whether it is caring-for-another-as-you-care-for-yourself, binding our souls closer to each other. Or attaching to Existence in a moment of prayer and devotion.

Or simply uniting the broken parts of oneself and finding wholesomeness. In all these dimensional directions, vertical, horizontal and inward, Judaism has deep wisdom, refined practice and a loving Guide. For shul to survive we need to offer pathways to connectedness.

My thinking has developed over the past few years. I used to think that all we needed for shul to survive was passion, relationality and connection. I used to think that every meal should have sparkle.

And while I believe that if all we do is stability and chicken soup there will be no United Synagogue left in a few decades, if we throw the baby out with the chicken-flavoured bathwater, we also lose something precious.

Stability is very comforting, particularly in an ever-changing world. It might not be racy and exciting but it is important nonetheless. It is containing and certain, steadfast and present. And indeed, it connects me to a millennia-old past. I also like to have chicken soup on a Friday night.

For the United Synagogue to thrive we need to break out of the dichotomy of either stability or intimacy. It must be both/and. We need shul to both feel tied to memory and progressing into connectedness. It is easy to do either one well.

We all know shuls that are stable (and uninspiring). We may also know shuls that are intimate (but lacking a sense of authenticity). However, the menu that will truly allow this marriage to God, our people and ourselves to flourish is the one that both solidly grounds us and at the same time reaches for heaven.

What might this look like? Neither evolution nor revolution but a recognition of the core tasks we already offer and considering ways to transform them relationally and intimately.

A sermon should not just be used to teach an important moral lesson or learn a detail in the weekly portion. Instead, it should be a weekly opportunity to join one’s community, in openness and vulnerability, and discover together how to use the Torah to navigate life’s challenges.

A bar/bat mitzvah should not just be a rite of passage for a young person to perform their piece but should be a tailored moment that captures the qualities of the individual and inspires them to continue their journey.

A shul service should not be a weekly tick-box exercise in “getting through” the prayers as quickly as possible, but should be a considered, tender and open spiritual practice, however that needs to be facilitated on a Shabbat morning.

An event or educational programme should not just be a passive experience of receiving entertainment or information but an engaging dialogue that quickens the mind and touches the heart.

We need both stability and intimacy to revive. It might even beat grandma’s chicken soup.

Dr Landau is rabbi of Barnet (United) Synagogue