Over the past 10 years, however, I've noted an erosion in the Starbucks model. And it's not just me. Last month, Howard Schultz, the chairman of Starbucks, sent a memo to employees. In it, he complains that the chain has made a series of business decisions that have led to the "watering down of the Starbucks experience."
Automatic espresso machines have replaced hands-on "baristas." "Flavor-locked packaging" fills in for actual roasting beans. Too-tall machines prevent customers from seeing their mochas and cappuccinos being concocted. Automation even removes the aroma — the "most powerful nonverbal signal" in the Starbucks experience.
In short, customers are being robbed of the "romance and theater that was in play." By "stripping the store of tradition and our heritage," Schultz wrote, too many stores "no longer have the soul of the past."
Schultz is talking about coffee, but it doesn't take more than a few shots of espresso to see that he is also talking about the synagogue. Judaism may not be on the same growth curve as Starbucks (which went from 1,000 stores to 13,000 in a decade), but aren't we all struggling with how to hold on to our "tradition and heritage"? Can't we also say that too many Jewish institutions "no longer have the soul of the past"?
That's why I think that Schultz's memo should be added to Jewish reading lists. We all should ask this: "We achieved fresh roasted bagged coffee, but at what cost?"
Okay, maybe that's not exactly the question for American Jewry, but you get the idea. In what ways do our own synagogues represent a watered-down version of Jewish tradition? In what ways have we short-changed congregants in search of "romance and theater"?
Schultz's memo is really a five-point plan for synagogue renewal. Consider:
One: Bring back the baristas. When new people show up at your synagogues, are temple regulars and employees closed and automatic, or are they open and intimate? A people-to-people approach is the single biggest factor in attracting new members, and keeping them.
Two: Reflect the passion. Does your synagogue and its decor reflect the personality of your congregation? Does signage display the soul of the membership, or the mere craftsmanship of the architect?
Three: Let them see the drink being made. People want to see the process. Rabbis and boards who make decisions behind closed doors miss an opportunity to educate and engage their congregants. Lower the barriers.
Four: Bring back the aroma. What are your "most powerful nonverbal signals"? Is it an inviting kiddush? Is it the sight of young children cavorting, who obviously appear comfortable in shul?
Five: Get back to the core. Schultz urges his employees to "push for innovation and do the things necessary to once again differentiate Starbucks from all others."
Okay, I'll admit it: Growing a coffee chain and running a synagogue do not make for perfect analogies. While a house of worship should offer a variety of ways to engage Jews, a menu that's too big would certainly lead to a "dilution of the experience."
Successful religious institutions also demand more from their "customers" than that they merely show up, pay for a service and walk out the door. In successful synagogues, customers exist on both sides of the counter.
But Schultz could well be the keynote speaker at a synagogue renewal conference when he says: "We desperately need to look into the mirror, and realize it's time to get back to the core and make the changes necessary to evoke the heritage, the tradition and the passion that we all have for the true Starbucks experience."
Substitute "synagogue" for "Starbucks" in that sentence, and you have what sounds like — you'll pardon the cliché — a wake-up call.
Andrew Silow-Carroll is the editor in chief of the New Jersey Jewish News.