Staff Writer

Rabbi Tamara Miller has been known to "pick up Jews" in all sorts of places, such as "shopping malls, elevators, at parties" and even "weddings."

A self-described religious extrovert who admits that she oftentimes "pushes the envelope" of Jewish norms, Miller, the director of spiritual care at George Washington University Hospital in the District, says she's "always trying to reach people who aren't in the synagogue proper."

Seeking to erase the barriers that too often separate the devout Jew from the nonreligious, Miller is one of two local rabbis who've been chosen to participate in a pioneering outreach program -- Rabbis Without Borders.

A yearlong educational fellowship created by CLAL-The National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership, a Jewish think tank and training institute, Rabbis Without Borders seeks to place Judaism "into the public marketplace" by pulling together 22 rabbis from across the nation for a series of lectures and seminars aimed at making Judaism more accessible to the masses.

"The idea is that if we have this tradition that we [as Jews] find so meaningful and that really makes our lives better, why not put it out there to make everyone's lives better," said Rabbi Rebecca Sirbu, the fellowship's director.

Joining the program along with Miller is Gaithersburg Rabbi Alana Suskin, the director of lifelong learning at the Conservative Congregation Shaare Torah. The fellows are slated to meet six times during the course of the year in New York City, where CLAL is based, with the first gathering set for the end of this month.

There, the fellows will meet with a variety of authors, thinkers and business professionals from a range of fields, among them, Jon Meacham, Newsweek managing editor, who frequently writes about faith; Bill Donohue the president of the Catholic League; and Ingrid Mattson, the president of the Islamic Society of North America.

With attendance at shul on the decline and a large number of Jews disengaged from religious life, Sirbu said that "we're hoping [the fellowship] will reach out to both that segment of the population as well as beyond those borders to other sections [of the population] as well,"

In addition to the lectures, fellows also will attend classes on how to use new media, such as Facebook and Twitter.

"Rabbinic school training grounds," tend to put a "stamp" of conformity on America's religious leaders, Sibru said, and the fellowship will aim to "expand people's reference points so [they] are more aware of trends going on in society today."

For their part, Suskin, who demurs on her age, and Miller, 62, believe the program eventually will help them strike a chord with the religiously disconnected.

"One of the things I hope for ... is finding better and more innovative ways to communicate with people," said Suskin, who sits on the board of Rabbis for Human Rights-North America and is a managing editor for Jewschool, an online publication that chronicles Judaism from the perspective of disenfranchised Jews.

That publication, Sirbu said, was a selling point for Suskin, who was chosen from among 80 or so total applicants.

Miller, too, has been known to go beyond the mainstream.

As the founder of the Capital Kehillah, an unaffiliated pluralistic congregation designed to reach out to alienated Jews, Miller will "bring a flare of creativity" to the fellowship, Sirbu said.

Though the Capital Kehillah is now defunct -- the nine-year-old group was temporarily dismantled after leaving its home at the Sixth & I Historic Synagogue in the District last year -- Miller says she hasn't given up on reaching out, and sees the fellowship as a way to "expand my own Jewish borders."

Along with engaging dormant Jews, the Rabbis Without Borders initiative hopes to develop a brand of Judaism that can be readily accessed by non-Jews, as well.

In some ways, Sirbu says, the program will seek to take Jewish tradition "out of context" by reducing it to "different pieces."

For example, the rabbi explained, the Sabbath could be posited as a universal day of rest.

"Wouldn't it be fabulous if we were able to teach on a really broad scale this concept of Shabbat?" Sibru asked.

More so, she continued, the mezuzah -- one of Judaism's most meaningful religious items -- could easily be marketed to non-Jews.

"I actually have a couple of non-Jewish friends who I was talking to about [mezzuzot] and they absolutely loved this idea of having a blessing or talisman that they could really affix to their doorpost," Sirbu explained.

Some Jewish educators, however, while lauding the fellowship overall, say there's a danger in distilling Judaism to the point of banality.

"Personally, I wouldn't get all that motivated about getting non-Jews to put mezuzah up," said Rabbi Sid Schwarz, founder of the Rockville-based Panim: The Institute for Jewish Leadership and Values.

Because Judaism has long been accompanied by a sense of otherness, of belonging to a special tribe, Schwarz said that "an interesting critique is to say, 'Do we lose the Jewish value, the meaning of the ritual' " by watering it down?

Rabbi Avis Miller, the founder of the Open Dor, a nonprofit foundation that reaches out to Jews on the fringe, also found a potential "downside" to universalized Judaism.

"What's special about the mezuzah is that we gave it value" and turned it from a pagan tradition into a religious one, Miller explained. "Ultimately, people will not find meaning in their lives in little gestures that are taken out of context."

It may be wiser, Schwarz said, to offer the public Jewish values, rather than discrete rituals.

"I think it would be wonderful if we could succeed in getting the American marketplace to adopt a principle from the ethics of our ancestors," he said. "That would be a great victory ... but if the goal is to get non-Jews to put mezuzah on their doors" it could be "a slippery slope."