By most accounts, the number of strictly Orthodox Jews who drift from the tenets of their faith is tiny, yet some observers say the phenomenon is growing. “It has increased in recent years,” said Rabbi Avi Shafran, public affairs director of Agudath Israel of America, a group that represents much of the haredi world. “You have the blandishments and temptations of the outer world, which are ever more in your face. People want to sow their wild oats. Eventually some may come back. Others don’t.”

A Haven for the Doubtful

Although questioning their religion is a complex and often painful ordeal, those straying from Orthodoxy have lately found a flourishing number of options to help smooth their paths. The Internet has spurred a mass of fringe Orthodox blogs and e-mail lists with names like “Jewish Atheist” and “Frum Skeptics.” In 2003, a nonprofit organization called Footsteps was formed to offer resources like G.E.D. classes and support groups for people moving away from strict Orthodoxy.

For at least a decade, Mr. Schonfeld has been an unofficial anchor for the drifting.

An erudite man with a long, gauzy beard and a wry smile, he has lived almost his entire life in Borough Park. In the 1990s, a computer and electronics store that he owned in the neighborhood became a nightly hangout for some local residents who, though they may have appeared indistinguishable from other Hasidim, were freethinkers and misfits who sought a place to speak openly and not feel judged. The rabbi of the Millinery Center Synagogue, aware of Mr. Schonfeld’s rapidly growing community, offered him space for a weekly gathering, which has since mushroomed in size, its presence publicized primarily through word of mouth and an e-mail list.

Over time, the gathering began to draw people who had no apparent links to Hasidism but were warmed to discover, as Mr. Schonfeld said, half joking, “that Hasidic people are not Martians.” Among them were local professionals, downtown hipsters, curious academics and spiritual seekers. Some became frequent visitors, intrigued by a taste of a world that many of their grandparents and great-grandparents long ago jettisoned. Mr. Schonfeld compares the scene to a city of refuge, a Biblical reference to a town where a man who had accidentally killed another could gain asylum.

Although Mr. Schonfeld is firm in his own strict Orthodox practice, he too seems to struggle with existential questions. “We’ve tried to create a place where we could escape the barbarity of the world,” he said. “For some people, it’s the religious world. For some, it’s the secular world. We’re all on the periphery.”

Dancing at Two Weddings

Well after midnight, a young Hasid from Williamsburg dashed upstairs. He wore a long black coat, and curly chestnut ear locks sprang out from his temples. He had been going to Chulent for only a few weeks, having learned about the gathering from an article in The Yiddish Forward, but already he was a regular.

He was willing to discuss his life only if guaranteed anonymity, citing the profound embarrassment that any exposure would cause him in his community. Still, as he leaned against a dingy wall, he wistfully imagined what his life might have been like had he been raised differently.