Saturday, Sept. 30, 2006 | 8:05 a.m.
As dusk set and Rabbi Yocheved Mintz prepared for the evening's Rosh Hashanah service, 13-year-old Danny Royer and his 6-year-old brother Austin stood at the foot of the table at Valley Outreach Synagogue, awaiting their assignment.
They playfully argued over who was the better helper, while their mother, Ellen, a new member of the choir, beamed and rolled her eyes from the sanctuary's stage. After their father, Ron, arrived, the entire family was invited to come up to the table and pray with Mintz to welcome in the new year.
Just weeks ago, the Royer family was adrift, shopping for a new synagogue they could call home - somewhere for Danny to study for his bar mitzvah, and where Ron, who is not Jewish, would feel welcome.
Ellen Royer had met Mintz before, and knew the Reconstructionist synagogue was right for her after the first visit.
As they were leaving , Danny turned to his mother and told her that the service made him "feel happy, very happy, inside happy." For a mother working to teach her children to value their Jewish roots, it was all Ellen Royer needed to hear.
"It was a confirmation of all my hopes," said Royer, who will see her son become a man in today's bar mitzvah service.
Ellen was participating in "shul shopping," the hunt for a synagogue. It is a common practice for Jews in September, for much the same reasons that Christians who don't regularly attend church might attend on Christmas or Easter, and attendance at mosques spikes during Ramadan.
The High Holy Days of the Jewish faith - starting with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and going through Monday's Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement - call even secular Jews back to their faith. Many come just for the holidays; some come to find a permanent home.
Mintz believes that the blowing of the shofar, a ram's horn that is played during Rosh Hashanah to symbolize God's call to repentance, serves as a "wake-up call" for many Jews.
"We kind of put things off until our alarm clocks go off," said Mintz, whose synagogue rents space at Oasis Christian Church in south Las Vegas. "The shofar reminds us of our roots, and this is the impetus for many people to find community. I get calls all day long from people who preface their remarks with, 'I haven't been to synagogue in many years,' or 'I haven't been practicing,' or 'I've been putting this off.' What they are telling me is that they are looking for a place of comfort and a place to feel comfortable in their Judaism."
Reflecting the overall population of the Las Vegas Valley, the local Jewish population is growing fast, and today totals about 80,000. Two decades ago there were four synagogues in town; today there are 20.
Only about 10 percent of the valley's Jews are affiliated with a local synagogue, rabbis say. That attendance level is typical for the West, where many Jews come to retire and where most synagogues are too young to have developed the generational commitment inherent in Eastern cities. But it is also typical for the country at large, local religious leaders and sociologists say.
For instance, Roman Catholics represent close to one-third of the valley's population, but only 15 percent attend weekly Mass . Attendance more than doubles during the holidays.
"There is a tremendous amount of religious switching, shopping, and what I would call seasonal devotion to worship, and in that sense Jews are very much like other Americans," said Gary Tobin, president of the Institute for Jewish and Community Research, a San Francisco-based think tank.
Religious faith is "deeply ingrained" in the American psyche, but so is a sense of individualism , Tobin said. Many Americans avoid organized religion for a more personal spirituality - but then seek the touchstone of a more traditional communal experience at special times. About 90 percent of Americans believe in God, but less than 40 percent attend religious services, national surveys show.
Las Vegas may have a larger than normal percentage of unaffiliated Jews because of the transient nature of the community and a large number of senior citizens. About 35 percent of the local Jews are older than 65, and many have a "been there, done that" mentality, and they aren't interested in getting involved in a temple or synagogue, said Rabbi Sanford Akselrad of Congregation Ner Tamid in Henderson.
Many of these Jews practice what Akselrad calls "clubhouse Judaism," attending services at their community centers.
On the other end of the spectrum, many younger Jews move away from their faith in their 20s, coming back only when their children reach school age. Some also want to avoid membership dues , turned off by the idea that they need to "pay to pray," said Rabbi Mel Hecht of Temple Beth Am, near Summerlin.
But many find themselves drawn in during the holidays .
"They may have forgotten religion, but they have not forgotten their experience with their grandparents," Hecht said.
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