It is often said that large synagogues are things of the past and that small shuls are the future.

It is true that clusters of small synagogues have sprung up in major Jewish centres and some are doing very well. It is also true that some — although not all —  older, larger congregations are struggling.  

What is beyond doubt is that large synagogues face continual challenges. They were built when congregations were very substantial, the Jewish population was increasing, Jews joined synagogues as much as an expression of cultural identity as religious fervour and vast numbers turned up for the High Holy Days. 

Now, thousand-seater buildings are very hard to fill at the best of times, let alone on a Shabbat morning without a special occasion to bring in the crowds.

Most large suburban synagogues have the advantage of being in areas of dense Jewish population. Yet there is a sub-species of large synagogue which usually does not share that good fortune. They are the cathedral synagogues — Victorian, highly ornate, grand and often heritage-protected.

My interest in these synagogues is not only historical or architectural, but practical. I am the rabbi of one, the Great Synagogue in Sydney, which was founded in 1878. 

Our challenge is to remain relevant and popular in the early 21st century. We have a main prayer hall of 1,100 seats and many facilities to maintain, including all the religious and pastoral services you would expect in any congregation, but also a museum and archives. All this in a building whose upkeep is very expensive. We enjoy no regular income from the government, or from the wider Jewish community. We are supported almost exclusively by our members, which means that pews full of Jews is not just a fine sight, it is also essential to maintain the institution.

This, however, is not the story of a heroic but doomed struggle against the odds. In March, as part of the programme for our 140th anniversary year, we held a Shabbat lunch to celebrate 140 new members of the synagogue, since we began our membership drive in 2015. 

Our new members come from all age groups from 20s to 70s and even older. There are singles and families, couples whose children have left home as well as the working and the retired. There are new members who now come every week and, naturally, others who are rarer attenders. This is the great attraction of the larger synagogue: a congregation that can welcome Jews in all shapes and sizes, creating a community that aspires to have a place for everyone.

Cathedral synagogues create links not just within our generation of Jews, but between today’s members and those who came before, deepening our sense of identity and belonging. A member of today’s Great Synagogue can take pride in what they have inherited from their grandparents and dedicate themselves to passing it on to their grandchildren. 

It has been hard work to turn the Great into a “growth synagogue” and the task is far from complete. It does demonstrate, however, that a cathedral synagogue can thrive like any other. 

In my three years in Sydney, I have become convinced the single most important factor in growing a synagogue is nurturing personal relationships and human warmth. People want to attend and join a synagogue in which they feel welcomed, loved and appreciated. That has to include those who are wealthy or not, powerful or not, observant or not, and the entire spectrum in between.  A synagogue which makes itself into a clique for a particular set is doomed and deserves to be doomed.

A second essential element is creating multiple points of entry. If a synagogue wants to attract a large number of people, that necessarily requires diverse ways to engage.  It could be a service, a Talmud class, a book club or a communal Shabbat meal. Providing all of these opportunities, and investing them with the same status, enables more people to find their place.

Finally, in the push for higher membership, individuals should never be reduced to numbers. Old and new members alike have to be treated as ends and not as means. People will soon notice if they are just seen as figures on a spreadsheet, and longstanding members will be rightly hurt if they are taken for granted in the rush for new faces.

None of these ideas are particularly ground-breaking, but then a synagogue does not need to be at the bleeding edge in order to succeed. A shul should find out what works and then do it well. It reminds me of Leo Tolstoy’s observation that all happy families are happy in the same way. All successful synagogues will have a lot in common, each serving their own communities.

There is no such thing as a synagogue that is automatically a success and one which is inevitably a failure. It all depends on the ideas and values that drive it. Every synagogue faces challenges. But in almost every case, these can be overcome, to create beautiful communities. And if they reside in beautiful buildings like our great cathedral synagogues, so much the better.