A Rabbi’s Murder; A Movement’s Legacy: 60 Years of American Jewish History

A congregant murdered our rabbi sixty years ago.

On Shabbat morning, February 12, 1966, Rabbi Morris Adler (z”l) was officiating a bar mitzvah in Congregation Shaarey Zedek’s then-new suburban sanctuary. A young adult member of the congregation entered mid-service, shot the rabbi, and then himself. Rabbi Adler died on March 11, just weeks shy of his sixtieth birthday.

Sixty years is a long time in a human life but only a moment in Jewish history. My colleague Rabbi Yoni Dahlen and I were not yet born when Rabbi Adler and his assistant, Rabbi Irwin Groner (z”l), occupied the same pulpit seats we sit in today. And yet, in these six decades, the Jewish People and the world have been transformed.

Yet, responding to a transforming world is nothing new for Jewish leaders. The Talmud teaches: “A person should always be soft like a reed and not stiff like a cedar.”[1] Jewish survival requires deep roots and supple strength — the ability to stand firm and to bend wisely. Inspired by the example of Rabbi Morris Adler, for sixty years the rabbis of Congregation Shaarey Zedek have tried to do precisely that.

1946–1966: Building American Jewish Confidence

Though Jews had long lived in America, the mass immigration from Eastern Europe between 1880 and 1920 transformed American Jewish life and strengthened Shaarey Zedek, founded in 1862 by Jews who resisted Reform and later became a founding member of the Conservative movement’s United Synagogue.

Rabbi Morris Adler began serving the congregation in 1938, took leave to serve as a U.S. Army chaplain in World War II, and then returned to become senior rabbi in 1946.

Rabbi Adler ably led during a moment of extraordinary Jewish ascent. Postwar Detroit flourished. Holocaust survivors — including my grandparents — rebuilt their lives. Native-born and immigrant Jews entered the American middle class through education, military service, and the GI Bill. Israel was born. Synagogues expanded. Jewish neighborhoods overflowed with children.

Yet modernity posed new questions. Suburbanization dispersed Jewish neighborhoods. Every driveway had a car. Assimilation accelerated. Rabbi Adler responded with characteristic vision.

As chair of the Conservative movement’s Committee on Jewish Law and Standards, the Motor City’s Rabbi Adler authored in 1950 the responsum permitting driving to synagogue on Shabbat and limited use of electricity. His goal was not leniency for its own sake but preservation of Jewish observance in a suburban age. Jews could drive — but only to synagogue. Electricity could be used — but only to enhance Shabbat.

He sought what Conservative Judaism has always sought: adaptation as enhancement rather than surrender.

Rabbi Adler guided his community through the Holocaust’s shadow, Israel’s birth, and the early Civil Rights era. His Judaism was intellectually serious, pastorally warm, and unapologetically American. When Shaarey Zedek moved to Southfield in 1962, building a sanctuary for 1,000 weekly worshipers and 3,000 on the High Holidays, it symbolized Jewish confidence in America. Under his leadership, Detroit Jewry stood tall.

Then Rabbi Morris Adler’s life was cut short.

1966–1996: The Golden Age and Its Strains

Rabbi Irwin Groner (z”l), still a young man, assumed leadership in the wake of trauma. He brought healing and stability and would guide the congregation for decades. A scholar and orator, he became president of the Rabbinical Assembly and helped shepherd Detroit Jewry through assassinations, wars, cultural revolutions, and communal growth.

These were, in many ways, the Golden Age years of American Jewry: high synagogue affiliation, strong Federation systems, Jewish camping, day schools, philanthropic expansion, professional success.

But change continued.

Widening the Tent

Feminism reshaped American society and Jewish life. The Reform Movement’s Hebrew Union College ordained Rabbi Sally Priesand in 1972. Conservative Judaism moved more slowly. At Shaarey Zedek, the first Friday night bat mitzvah occurred in 1979 and then Shabbat morning in 1982. Women were counted in the minyan only beginning in 1995. A woman finally became synagogue president in 1998.

Each shift required balancing fidelity to tradition with moral and communal evolution. Transformation meant enhancement, not surrender.

Israel as Unifier

Israel’s victory in 1967 and near-defeat in 1973 deepened American Jews’ religious connection to the Jewish State. Support for Israel transcended denominations. Lobbying, philanthropy, and spiritual attachment intensified.

Israel was refuge and redemption — “reishit tzmichat geulateinu.” American Jews saw Zionism not merely as haven but as sacred mission.

Institutional Proliferation

Meanwhile, Jewish life diversified. Hillels, JCCs, university Judaic studies programs and secular Jewish organizations expanded. Jews could express identity without practicing sacred ritual.

Assimilation increased. Reform embraced patrilineal descent and more fully welcomed interfaith families; it welcomed back Hebrew and offered the option of ritual garb. Conservative affiliation began its long membership decline.

The Golden Age shimmered — but demographic and ideological challenges were emerging.

1996–2026: Widening Further, Guarding Core

By the end of the 20th century, Jewish continuity anxiety became central. Intermarriage rose. Jewish philanthropy expanded beyond Jewish causes. Synagogue membership declined.

In response, Shaarey Zedek — like many congregations — widened its embrace: Interfaith burial sections were created, halachically separated but welcoming; instrumentation was introduced into Shabbat worship; innovation in prayer and education intensified.

When I became mara d’atra in 2014, further questions confronted us. In 2015, after the Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage, I authorized Shaarey Zedek clergy to officiate at same-sex weddings. On Yom Kippur 2023, I publicly expressed gratitude to non-Jewish spouses and parents raising Jewish children.

At the same time, I cautioned against religious universalism untethered from Jewish particularism. In 2016, I delivered a Rosh HaShanah sermon declaring it was “Time to Say Kaddish for Tikkun Olam,”[2] proclaiming that, in the 21^st century, ethical action must be paired with ritual depth and a commitment to Jewish peoplehood. We can feed the hungry and also strengthen our synagogue. We can pursue justice and also deepen Torah study. We can care for the world and also protect Israel. That is holiness.

Then came two shocks that against asked for transformation as enhancement rather than surrender.

Covid-19: The Power of Technology

In 2020, Rabbi Yoni Dahlen and I permitted Zoom participants to count toward minyan if visible and audible. Online learning flourished. Cantorial music reached global audiences. Daily minyan never ceased. Technology, often criticized, became a lifeline for Jewish continuity.

By 2021 though, while still maintaining a “digital sanctuary,” we nevertheless encouraged Jews to return to the synagogue. However, while secular scholars are right to point to social media as a poison for children and as a weapon for fascists and conspiracy theorists, the internet in general and social media in particular have revolutionized Jewish education and the ability of synagogues and other Jewish institutions to communicate well beyond their geographic spheres. Rabbis today can share their sermons around the world in real time; Sefaria puts the largest collection of Jewish sacred texts into the hands of every single Jew; new rabbinical schools are opening that exist entirely online; and podcasts, YouTube, and other forums offer Jews the opportunity to spend every minute of every day engaged in Jewish thought and Jewish conversations.

October 7 and After

In addition to the existential war in which the State of Israel found itself in late 2023, with hundreds of hostages brutally captured by Hamas and the Jewish People mourning the barbaric assault that took the lives of 1200 souls, university campuses, public squares, and even Hollywood erupted with hatred, violence, and vandalism directed toward world Jewry. In late 2023 and throughout 2024, American Jews – especially teens and young adults – began to closet their previously outward Jewish expressions. Conversely, older adults found themselves reconnecting to their Judaism and the Jewish People in what was called “the surge,” as they sought comfort in the company of their fellow Jews, to express pride in the Jewish State’s ability to defend itself and fulfill a desire to participate in that defense by directing prayers heavenward.

The Next Thirty Years

As the next decades unfold, and as younger generations come of age, the American Jewish community will wrestle with its relationship to Israel and Zionism. Parts of the community will focus on Israel’s vulnerability, with October 7 serving as a modern-day reminder of the Holocaust and what happens to Jews when they let down their guard. Other American Jews will struggle with notions of Jewish power, calling out Israel’s right-wing government, its treatment of Palestinians in the West Bank, the rebuilding of Gaza, and the role of the Ultra-Orthodox in the future of the Jewish State.

Less than a century since the Holocaust and the birth of the State of Israel, the Jewish State’s place in the life of American Jews will be among the most salient questions facing American Jewish leaders today. For Israel’s sake and for Jews’ sake, American Jewish leaders would do well to move the community beyond the false binary of “pro-Israel” and “anti-Israel” to partner with Jewish Israelis in securing Israel as Jewish and democratic state while, at the same time, ensuring that the Israeli government is held to the ethical warnings of the ancient biblical prophets. American Jewish leaders would do well, too, to share with their non-Jewish neighbors about Israel’s medical, research, technological, and other life-saving contributions to the world.

At the same time, the Middle East is transforming by the moment, with the success of the Abraham Accords and the possibility of a Cyrus Accords, along with the dramatic weakening of Iran and its proxies that have, for the last many decades, threatened Israel. The evolving strategic position of Israel in the Middle East is made more complicated by the success of a radical Islamist ideology that has united in America and Europe political left-wingers and right-wingers in their dislike for Israel and antipathy toward Jews.

On the international stage, Israel is increasingly become a pariah state. On the American front, podcasters, elected officials, and entertainers are spewing anti-Israel and sometimes antisemitic vitriol to millions of followers, and Americans are only starting to become aware of the massive investment in American universities by Middle East countries that hold ideas contrary to many western liberal priorities. Israelis, American Jews, and European Jews are growing increasingly anxious about their safety in every country around the world. We may be entering a post–Golden Age era for American Jewry.

We may be entering a post–Golden Age era for American Jewry.

Demography and Denomination

Another important trend that American Jewish leaders will address is the change in the makeup of American Jewry. Today, like American Christians who continue to leave the church, less than 50% of American Jews affiliate with a synagogue as many Jews reject the 20^th century definitions of Jewish identity. These Jews prefer to self-identify as “Just Jews” rather than as Reform or Conservative (or any of the smaller movements like Renewal and Reconstructionist). Additionally, with non-denominational seminaries springing up but fewer Jews choosing to become rabbis, the Jewish community will be led by an educated laity and devoted Jewish professionals but fewer full-time clergy. Will enough people give deeply of their limited personal time to volunteer to lead? Jewish identity and Jewish practice will remain fluid and synagogues’ ability to reach, engage, and inspire younger Jews will determine their future.

Indeed, non-Orthodox Jewish affiliation is on the decline and the birthrate for non-Orthodox Jews remains low, especially as Americans marry later than in previous generations. However, Orthodox Jewry is rapidly on the rise – especially among the ultra-Orthodox, and their birthrate speaks for itself. On top of that, observant Jews primarily remain within their communities and are committed to Jewish procreation as a significant religious mandate.

In addition to Orthodox Jews’ contribution to the Jewish population in terms of numbers, Orthodox Jewry can positively impact the Jewish practice and Jewish identity of non-Orthodox Jews. Through outreach programs as well as the impressive success of Chabad, the spiritual authenticity and depth of knowledge of Orthodox rabbis educate and inspire their non-Orthodox supporters without by and large creating new Orthodox Jews.

Interestingly, these disciples and followers of charismatic Orthodox rabbis along with local Jewish federations and philanthropic foundations make up the lion’s share of donors to Yeshivot and other Orthodox causes. From secular hospitals and universities to Orthodox priorities, non-Orthodox Jewish donors are increasingly asked to increase their generosity … sometimes at the expense of the larger, non-Orthodox American Jewish community.

Among the challenges for non-Orthodox synagogues and temples will be to encourage Jewish philanthropists and donors to invest in their own outreach and expansion ideas and facility needs when their donors are pulled in so many directions. After all, the institutional success during the Golden Age of American Jewry saw the proliferation of brick-and-mortar structures, and these buildings and campuses are often long overdue for major maintenance or face the need for consolidation, mergers, and sharing of resources. Non-Orthodox synagogues must articulate why they matter.

What Is a Synagogue?

Lastly, organized prayer continues to pose a challenge for the non-Orthodox American Jewish community. When Rabbi Adler (z’l) led Congregation Shaarey Zedek out of the City of Detroit to its current home in the suburbs, the synagogue’s leadership constructed a sanctuary in which averaging nearly 1,000 worshipers every Shabbat was easily imaginable. In that Sabbath attendance at houses of worship has declined over the decades across North America in every faith, Jewish leaders will continue to wrestle with how to encourage their adherents to participate in Shabbat and daily minyan.

At the same time, relevant and engaging adult Jewish learning – especially about Israel and the great political issues of the day – serves to successfully bring Jews together in impressive numbers; the success of the transformational Shalom Hartman Institute speaks to American Jews’ deep desire for thought leadership. Parents of young children continue to want joyful and enriching Jewish experiences for their children and for the whole family, creating new Jewish friends and spending quality time with old friends. And, especially at Congregation Shaarey Zedek, Jews continue to come together in large numbers for rallies and programs to support the State of Israel and Jews-in-need, proudly proclaiming to each other and to the world, Am Yisrael Chai: The Jewish People are alive and thriving. Despite America’s trend toward “Bowling Alone,”[3] American Jews continue to want to feel part of a Jewish community.

Sixty Years, One Mission

The world has changed rapidly in the last sixty years. Nevertheless, the rabbis of Congregation Shaarey Zedek have pastored this historic community through wars against Israel, periods of rising antisemitism, U.S. civil unrest and political turmoil. Perhaps most importantly, we each in our own ways and in our own times sought and continue to seek to bring Jews closer to God, Torah, and Israel. And just as Rabbi Adler did sixty years ago, we rely on finding a balance between tradition and modernity to accomplish our mission: seeking contemporary meaning in ancient Jewish ritual and also applying Judaism’s ethical teachings to a complex 21^st century world. We hope as well to build a community that celebrates Jewish particularism while embracing an appropriate universalism that propels the world toward the prophetic ideals.

In 1950, Rabbi Adler wrote in his Responsum on the Sabbath regarding a rabbi’s role: “One of the great responsibilities of this age in our history, is to release the lifegiving and life-enriching powers that inhere in our tradition, by relating that tradition to modern life.”

Innovation and adaptions are hallmarks of Jewish survival; so too are adherence to Jewish tradition and a commitment to Jewish Peoplehood and Jewish practice. These are the seemingly competing values that Rabbi Adler sought to navigate in permitting driving on Shabbat – offering a willingness on behalf of rabbinic leadership to compromise on some aspects of tradition in order to ask the Jewish community to heighten and emphasize the core parts. “Far from widening the present cleavage in American Jewry,” the rabbi concludes, “such efforts are bound to make allegiance to Judaism more meaningful and to lead to the emergence of a common core of reference for Judaism and respect for its institutions.”

By sharing in this vision, Rabbi Adler’s successors follow in the footsteps of the man cut down so brutally sixty years ago. With respect and appreciation, we have given life to his ideas and love toward his ideals. Even more, the generations of Jewish leaders and members who have called Congregation Shaarey Zedek home further perpetuate a shared commitment to Jewish tradition and to a Judaism that evolves to reach the contemporary Jewish community. With Judaism as our foundation, we as modern Jews are marching together toward a Promised Land of a better tomorrow for Jews and for all God’s children.

Indeed, as the Torah teaches regarding the Exodus, with the Egyptians chasing our ancestors from behind and the Red Sea thrashing before them, the Israelites stopped and looked heavenward. “Then the Eternal said to Moses, ‘Why do you cry out to Me? Tell the Israelites to go forward’” (Ex. 14:15).

To be a Jew is to be gifted the opportunity for faith and family, laughter and love, song and story, healing and hope. And to achieve all those blessings, we must – like our ancestors who fled Egypt and like Rabbi Morris Adler (z’l) taught us – put our trust in God, stand with each other as Jews, and with reverence for the past, keep walking forward.

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[1] BT Taanit 20a.

[2] The Blogs: Time to say Kaddish for ‘tikkun olam’ | Aaron Starr | The Times of Israel

[3] Robert Putnam, Bowling Alone, 2000.