Last update - 00:00 28/09/2007
Consumer Affairs / Kol Nidre for $100,000, and other mitzvot
By Ronny Linder-Ganz
There's a story the hassidim tell about a little boy at the Yom Kippur service. The men around him prayed fervidly, but he didn't know how to pray. At a loss, the child pursed his lips and whistled. That pure sound, replete with true intent and passion, was more sincere than all the prayers and mitzvot of all the other worshipers combined.
It's hard to think of anything less in the spirit of that story than the haggling that goes on at synagogues around the world over seating in temple and various honors during the Days of Awe, or High Holy Days.
Over the last year,the price of good temple seats has risen by an average of 15 percent, say sources. Seats start at NIS 150 for one service, and can reach some $50,000 for a seat for life, according to the ultra-Orthodox ad agency Gal-Oren BSD. It found that 90 percent of men who wear kippahs pay annual synagogue dues, which can range from tens to hundreds of shekels a month. The fees generally cover a reserved seat and other costs, such as refreshments.
Even less in the spirit of the whistling child is what happens at some synagogues mere moments before prayers begin: an auction, pure and simple. Not only are seats for sale, so is being called to read from the Torah. "The gabbay declares, Maftir Yona (the last person called up to the Torah) for NIS 1,500. Who'll give more? And it goes on like that, until the highest bid," says Meir Gal, co-CEO of Gal-Oren BSD.
"It's just terrible how economic status seeps into the synagogues, too," says Yossi (not his real name), a taxi driver from Tel Aviv. Worshipers without means are left bereft, saddened and frustrated by their inability to buy mitzvot and honorary roles, he says.
In fact, the public auction of temple favors, if you will, sometimes becomes a central part of the show. Certainly that's the case at the Yeshiva Or Hahayim synagogue, run by Rabbi Reuven Elbaz in Jerusalem. Elbaz is famous for bringing lapsed Jews to religion, and he has a fervent following among French Jews, too.
"The show is tremendous," remarks Gal on Elbaz's public auctions over seating and honorary roles: tens of thousands of dollars can change hands. The synagogue is huge and grand, he says, with hundreds upon hundreds of seats, and the auction over the right to occupy them is a major part of the experience. "It's a matter of social status and respect for the rabbi and the temple. Everybody looks to see who's buying and for how much," he says. As the atmosphere heats up, so do the prices, Gal says.
The one setting the starting price is generally the gabbay - the synagogue manager - or the rabbi's personal assistant. But the ceiling is set by market forces and parameters such as the size, status, nature and sect of the particular synagogue.
When it comes to mitzvot and prayers, the decisive factor in price is how important the particular prayer on the block is. For instance, the third aliyah - the maftir, or the final reading before the haftarah - is considered very prestigious, and commands a high price. Kol Nidre also is up there, and so is the blessing of "haparnassah," a Sephardi ritual at the end of each service. Usually, says Gal, the most prestigious prayers aren't bought for oneself, but on behalf of the rabbi or a community leader, who carries out the blessing.
The Gal-Oren survey found that "important" Torah readings at the Belzer synagogue in Jerusalem can cost tens of thousands of dollars. At the Vizhnitzer house of worship in Bnei Brak, the Yom Kippur maftir has sold for as much as $100,000.
"According to Kabbalah, the Maftir Yona brings a blessing on your business. That's why a lot of businessmen are willing to invest so much money," says Y., an untra-Orthodox man from Bnei Brak.
The Sephardic sects are less likely to hawk temple seating, though various honors are up for bidding.
The temple's prestige and the proximity to the rabbi are key to pricing a seat. The synagogue where Rabbi Ovadia Yosef prays in Har Nof, Jerusalem, is small but particularly exalted, and prices are accordingly high. A few years ago, a famous entertainer paid tens of thousands of dollars for the seat next to Rabbi Ovadia at Kol Nidre and for the rabbi's Torah readings.
And when a synagogue brings in a foreign rabbi or cantor, the price can rise even higher. "At my temple, for instance, when they bring a cantor from France, they promote it in advance, telling worshipers to prepare. The honors at the upcoming holidays will be even costlier," says Muli Ari, who grew up in a religious household and is chief executive of the AMPR public-relations firm.
The Days of Awe thus present a golden opportunity, if you will, to whip up funding. "Your average successful neighborhood temple can raise NIS 200,000 during that time," Ari says. There are 40 to 50 blessings during the holidays and the various honorary roles can be split, and the temple can charge separately for each part. "You pay separately for the right to open the Holy Ark, to carry the scroll, to present it to the congregation, and so on," Ari says. Sometimes, in order to afford a prominent honor, family members join forces, he says.
Although everybody pays, synagogues earn most from guests. Each synagogue sells 5 percent to 10 percent of its seats at especially high prices to transients - unbelievers, travelers from abroad, or religious people visiting friends or family during the holidays.
"It's a business for all intents and purposes, and it's quite sad," Ari says. "There are more blessings on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, and many non-regulars come to temple. These passers-by spend a lot of money on the right to read from the Torah, which creates a lot of resentment among the regulars." Some worshipers become so annoyed that they abandon their regular temple after the holiday services, Ari says.
Meir Gal disagrees, and says the practice is beneficial. The money is used directly for charity and for maintaining the institution, he argues. "It's important to understand that since the Ministry for Religious Affairs was disbanded, the synagogues, which are social institutions where the community meets three times a day, receive no state funding. They are financed by the communities. Sometimes annual membership fees fail to cover all the costs, which is why this revenue is so important," says Gal.
Say a man is poor and has 11 children, and can't possibly buy the precious seats or honorary roles. He would be delighted to learn that this money is donated, because it ultimately comes back to help him and his family, Gal argues.
But he doesn't deny that buying a costly seat or honor is a status symbol. "For us, there are no such things as premium brands. You don't buy a Volvo or go abroad three times a year," he says. Therefore, the true indication of a person's economic capacity is outlay on holy matters. If a religious family wants to spend big money, then let it be on religious matters that benefit the whole community.
However, Y., who lives in Bnei Brak, admits that the money buys not only a place in temple: It also buys a warm spot in the rabbi's heart. "We can assume that a person who pays a fortune to read from the Torah will find the rabbi's door open if he needs it in the future," Y. says.
Seats and honors always have been sold, and probably always will be. But the prices have been rising over the years, sometimes by a lot. "There are synagogues where holiday seats went for $1,000 a few years ago," says Gal. "Now they're demanding $20,000 for the same places. At the Belzer synagogue in Jerusalem, a seat for life can now command $50,000," he says.
The reason prices have soared is perfectly simple: Just like in horse-trading, it's all a matter of supply and demand. "More and more people in the ultra-Orthodox and religious communities can afford to pay these sums, and the prices are rising accordingly," Gal says. Another reason is the phenomenon of wealthy Jews coming to Israel for the holidays.
But if you thought that honors and seats in Israeli temples were extraordinarily expensive, you haven't seen anything yet.
Last week, the Temple Emanu-El synagogue in Miami Beach offered a pair of highly desirable seats for $1.8 million. As of writing, nobody had bitten.
Wait a moment. Isn't commerce on a holiday considered a violation of holy law? Apparently not. "Since the money goes straight to charity, it isn't considered a transaction or commerce under halakha," Gal says.
All this is common practice, but not universal. Not all the Jewish sects do it. "There are two worldviews in Judaism regarding the connection between the spiritual and the material," Gal says. One arose from the Ruzhin dynasty and continued in the hassidic movement of Belzer and Vizhnitz, and argues that the material should be sanctified for the sake of the Torah and the spirit.
The Gur hassidic movement takes the opposite stance: It urges modesty and satisfaction with little. Seats are not sold among the Gur hassidim: The crowd of thousands stands and seats are reserved for the elderly, based on space, says Gal. The same goes for the Lithuanian Torah movements. Their synagogues are maintained by regular donations, not special ones for the Days of Awe. It is therefore a matter of ideology whether all are welcome to enter the house of worship and sit as close as they can to the Holy Ark or the rabbi, or whether they have to pay for that unique right.