Growing up through to the present, my parents belonged to Beth Am Israel. It's a relatively small synagogue in a relatively wealthy area--The Main Line. The Main Line has a ton of Jews and the synagogues (of which there are many) comprise a cross between beauty pageants and fraternities. There are the fancy synagogues, the rich synagogues, the well-dressed synagogues, the hippie/psychologist synagogues, the reform synagogues, and the orthodox synagogues. Most Jews in the area are Conservative so that's where the competition heats up.
Beth Am seemed to be a home for psychologists, ex-hippies, and the families that found the fashion runway of other, fancier synagogues a bit overwhelming (or at least their wardrobe was not up to par). With only 200 families our facilities were very limited. The building was one room with sliding orange walls that would break things up into smaller classrooms. The kitchen was always a mess and the bathrooms smelled like urine (even though I saw them get cleaned constantly). I'm going to guess that Beth Am dues were the same if not slightly higher then other conservative synagogues with fancy chapels, fancy classrooms, and fancy kitchens. Why were people paying for dreck (Yiddish for crap)? Just like any business with a loyal following paying a premium price, there's something "more" to be had than the typical "you pay for what you get." Indeed, there was something about our little synagogue that money couldn't buy.
The rabbi and educational director knew each congregant by name. Even the congregants wore their Beth Am pride on their shoulder as if it was some sort of special cult. We were the synagogue that would always have a big showing for the Israeli Independence Day Parade. Even as a young teenager, I could tell that my parents and their friends felt deeply connected to Beth Am. So what's the lesson?
I think it's pretty clear. What people are "buying" when the join a synagogue is a relationship to a community. Whether the building is fancy or not has nothing to do with the perceived value of the community. Take City Feed & Supply in Jamaica Plain, MA (where I live). This wildly popular sandwich shop is nothing special in its appearance, signage, or personnel. However, it knows exactly what makes a great sandwich shop--great sandwiches! They use local ingredients that are fresh and flavorful and they take pride in only serving what tastes good.
In short, a business/synagogue/person/manager must focus and execute on that one or two critical elements that defines success or failure. For Beth Am it is creating a special, tight-knit community, for City Feed, it is the best sandwiches in town. Translation: If the 'promise' is the end-all-be-all goal, the 'delivery' is an intense focus on this-and-only-this.
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