Ritual Drinking: A 180 Degree Turn. Part I

My thinking about drinking (in the context of Jewish ritual and custom) has changed 180 degrees over the past couple of years.

It changed suddenly as a result of an eye-opening experience. Two years ago our shul sponsored a concert a couple of weeks before Pesach featuring Shlomo Katz and Chaim Dovid. We had been running J music concerts for about four years with great success and without incident. At this concert, we had about 500 kids from all over the community. Unfortunately, a large portion of them came very well prepared with bottles and flasks of beer and hard liquor and had clearly had much to drink even before walking in. (It was impossible to tell what kinds of drugs were being used and how pervasive it was).

We were totally unprepared and the night got very ugly. Kids were hanging around outside the shul drinking more and presumably doing more drugs. They were very rowdy and out of control and it became a very big problem both inside and outside the shul. Some of the kids got violent when we asked them to leave.

Let me be clear. I am not talking about ten kids. There were scores of kids in this state. Mostly boys but plenty of girls. And, they came from all of the schools including predominantly from the more right wing yeshivas.

In retrospect, I remembered that during our previous concert, a gig that was held about a week before Purim, I noticed that some of the guys had the smell of alcohol on their breath. I didn't think much about it at the time and attributed it to a few guys in the 'Pre-Purim Mode'. What I now suspect is that the word in the 'Jewish kids' underground' got out that these concerts provided a good opportunity to get smashed while telling your parents that you were going to a kosher Jewish event. So, while there were just a handful of this chevra at the Pre-Purim gig, there were many times that number at the next gig.

Coincidentally, after pushing for this for years, Rabbi Herschel Billet of The Young Israel of Woodmere, had just instituted a complete ban of hard liquor in his shul. He called me that week and asked if our shul would agree to the same conditions.

I called our Rav and we agreed. We instituted the policy immediately and it has been in effect ever since.

This was a radical, almost shocking departure for us. Although we were never plagued with the 'kiddush club' problem, we were known for our appreciation of a good single malt scotch or bourbon and for having a l'chayim or two (or three) at kiddushes. In a shul where there is no talking during davening, the kiddush afterwards was an outlet and an opportunity to bond with chaverim. Undeniably, liquor seemed to play a central role. (It is important to note, however, that our Rav does not touch the stuff. I would call him a tee-toatler but I don't think he even drinks tea).

Next time I will discuss the reasoning behind this decision and the development of my own thoughts on this topic.