Dec. 2025
Ari Levin

The year 5785 may not be a good one for the Conservative movement in North America. I stress the word “may,” because I firmly believe that while the writing is the wall, the book has not yet been sealed. The past three decades have been challenging for the Conservative movement. 

A 2020 Pew Research report on Jewish demographics highlighted several concerning trends:
• The number of self-identifying Conservative Jews has declined from a peak of 1.6 million to roughly 500,000.
• The share of American Jews identifying as Conservative dropped from 43 percent in 1990 to just 17 percent in 2020.
• The mean age of Conservative Jews is 62 — significantly higher than that of Reform Jews (53) and Orthodox Jews (35).
• The Conservative movement’s Schecter day schols, once numbering 73, have dwindled to just 30.
• The Jewish Theological Seminary experienced a steep decline in rabbinical candidates over the same period.

The Oct. 7, 2023 attacks and the subsequent rise in global antisemitism served as a catalyst for renewed unity among Jews worldwide. In 2025, the Jewish Federations of North America (JFNA) reported that 72 percent of Jews who increased their engagement following the attacks have sustained that involvement. A report by the Foundation for Jewish Camping saw enrolment at Jewish summer camps spike 5 per cent in 2024, surpassing pre-enrolment levels from before the pandemic. Enrolment at Camp Ramah, the largest Conservative Jewish summer camp in Canada, for instance, is at record levels. In fact, nearly all Ramah camps across North America have seen spikes in enrolment. There’s also been a marked rise in Jewish day school attendance. A Prizma study in February of 2025 found that enrolment across a sampling of Jewish day schools was up nearly 1.5 per cent in 2024-2025 over the previous year, with more than half the sdchools reporting that 60 per cent of new students had never attended any Jewish day schools beforehand.

So what does all this tell us? On one hand, Conservative Judaism has experienced a significant decline over the past several decades. On the other, Jewish engagement and participation have risen more broadly across a range of organizations and communities. It’s clear to me that we’re in a defining moment for those of us in my generation who are looking for a sense of belonging, connection, and community. 

The question for us, as Conservative Jews, is how we can truly rise to this moment. When Conservative Judaism was at its peak 30 years ago, people needed different things from Judaism and from the Jewish community than we need today. Clearly, this moment calls for something different to succeed. How can we change, grow, and reimagine what our own flavor of Judaism can offer this community today? I present no concrete answers, but in the Talmudic tradition I ask a simple question. What does it mean to be a Conservative Jew in Hamilton today?

For me, Conservative Judaism has always stood for pluralism, egalitarianism, and a deep commitment to ritual and tradition — continually renewed through an evolving interpretation of Jewish law. It’s a flavor of Judaism that at once strives to balance our rich history with an honest acceptance and accounting of the world we live in today. 
I believe the task before us is to strengthen the Hamilton Jewish community as a whole. How can we reimagine what Judaism can offer — not only for those already engaged, but for the many who feel disconnected, yet still long for connection and a sense of continuity for their families? There are no easy answers, but if we come together with vision and openness, we can create a community that thrives for generations to come.

Ari Levin, a father of three, gave the above address during Beth Jacob Synagogue’s Yom Kippur services.