Parshat Va-era 5766
There are times when I think I should have listened to my mother. Twenty-five years ago as I prepared to participate in my ordination ceremony, Mom came over to me and whispered: “You know - it’s not too late to go back to medical school.”
She denies that she ever said this but she did and it wasn’t the first time that she discouraged me from becoming a rabbi. Mom always said that I didn’t have thick enough skin to deal with the politics and intrigues of congregational life. And you know what? She may have been right. Yet here I am, twenty five years later. And I don’t regret my decision to enter the rabbinate. Really, I don’t!
Not that this is an easy way to earn a living. As people like to say,
“You’re a Rabbi? What kind of job is that for a nice Jewish
boy/girl?” There’s a classic bit of humor that can be found
on the internet, entitled The Perfect Rabbi. It goes like this: “The
results of a computerized survey indicate the perfect Rabbi preaches
exactly fifteen minutes. He condemns sins but never upsets anyone. He
works from 7:00 AM until midnight and is also a janitor. He makes $50
a week, wears good clothes, buys good books, drives a nice car, and
gives about $50 weekly to the poor. He is 28 years old and has been
preaching 30 years. He has a burning desire to work with teenagers and
spends all of his time with senior citizens. The perfect Rabbi smiles
all the time with a straight face because he has a sense of humor that
keeps him seriously dedicated to his work. He makes 15 calls daily on
congregational families, shut-ins and the hospitalized, and is always
in his office when needed.
If your Rabbi does not measure up, simply send this letter to six other
synagogues that are tired of their Rabbi, too. Then bundle up your Rabbi
and send him to the synagogue on the top of the list. In one week, you
will receive 1,643 Rabbis and one of them will be perfect. Have faith
in this procedure. One congregation broke the chain and got its old
Rabbi back in less than three weeks.”
The truth is I should have known what I was getting into. You don’t have to look any farther than the Torah to realize how challenging the rabbinate can be. Who do we learn this lesson from? We can learn about the challenges of being a rabbi from none other than that all time favorite rabbi – Moshe Rabbaynu, Moses.
At the end of last week’s Parshah Moses makes his first foray into the palace as Israel’s new leader. Full of enthusiasm he comes to Pharaoh and demands that he allow the children of Israel to leave Egypt. Pharaoh responds: “Who is the Lord that I should listen to him and let Israel go? I do not know the Lord nor will I let them leave!” And then Pharaoh increases Israel’s quota of bricks – they must now provide their own straw. Moses leaves dejected. Pharaoh refuses to listen to him and the people are furious with Moses for not leaving well enough alone.
In this week’s Parshah, Moses faces a new challenge. When God renews His promise to redeem Israel, Moses gathers the nation to tell them the good news. But they refuse to listen, the Torah says, mikotzer ruach u’may’avodah kasha, literally because of shortness of spirit and difficult bondage.
So what exactly does that mean? In the Etz Hayim Humash these words are translated because “their spirits were crushed by cruel bondage.” When you feel overwhelmed and oppressed it’s hard to be hopeful or idealistic. The people of Israel were in no position to listen to Moses – they were worried about where the next brick would come from and if they would catch the wrath of the nearest task-master. Instead of paying attention to what the people were feeling and what they needed, Moses was busy telling them how to live their lives. They simply weren’t ready for this, certainly not from a man who never served as a slave.
The Mechilta, on the other hand, understands this expression differently. The Mechilta points out that whenever people receive good news they’re happy – so why didn’t the slaves respond with joy at the prospect that God was going to save them? The Mechilta suggests that the Israelites were not prepared to give up the idolatry they had learned in Egypt. The word Avodah means not only ‘labor’ but ‘worship.’ The people didn’t want to hear what Moses had to say because they were just as happy to remain in Egypt worshipping the gods of this nation. They were impatient and satisfied with their avodah kasha, with their serious worship of idols.
Poor Moses, what was he to do? He had a king who didn’t recognize his God and a nation that was either too tired or too indifferent to commit themselves to the God who wanted to redeem them.
It’s hard not to feel sorry for Moses. One of my colleagues suggested a few years ago that being a pulpit rabbi is a little like selling encyclopedias door to door. You spend your day going from house to house with this wonderful source of knowledge and wisdom which you love and believe in, only to have people slam the door in your face. At the end of the day you are feeling more then a little depressed. No one wants to listen to what you have to say or to accept what you have to offer them.
So you go home and open up a volume of the encyclopedia. You begin to read and your spirit returns. You are inspired and filled with light. You’re reminded how wonderful the enclopedia is, how much there is to learn, and how fascinating its teaching are. So you decide to try again the next day…..
As many of you know Paul Hoffman, the father of our Bar Mitzvah, is in the process of enrolling in rabbinical school. I am a little jealous – I wish I could go back to school for that type of intensive learning. Paul is about to begin an exciting and challenging journey. But I thought he ought to know what he is getting himself and his family into.
There has never been a generation facing greater challenges than rabbis are facing today. But I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. I love what I do. I believe in what I do. And I care deeply about the work that I do. It is a great privilege to be a rabbi even if it sometimes no easier for us than it was for Moshe Rabbaynu.
I’d like to share three bits of advice with Paul as he begins this undertaking, and three bits of advice with those of you who belong to a congregation any congregation. First for Paul:
1. The most important thing is that rabbis have to love their congregants. And when they cease loving the people they serve it’s time to move on. That doesn’t mean that they have to agree with them or approve of their decisions but he has to support them, care for them and maybe most important they have to listen to them.
2. Second to be a rabbi you have to feel that you would be doing the same work even if you weren’t employed by a congregation. In a sense you didn’t choose the rabbinate – it chose you. Judaism has to be at the core of your life and Jewish living has to be the greatest challenge and joy that you have. Rabbis can make a living as rabbis unless they are ready to practice what they preach.
3. And finally a Rabbi has to meet people where they’re at – not where he thinks they should be. We have to be willing to be with them even when they are overwhelmed by Kotzer ruach and avodah kashah, whatever it may be.
Now a word or two or three to the congregants of rabbis:
1. The first thing that you need to know is that rabbis are not your surrogates. We cannot practice Judaism vicariously for you. Nothing taps the energies and enthusiasm of a rabbi more than the realization that people aren’t listening, aren’t paying attention and that they expect us to do what they aren’t even willing to consider. The most important thing a congregant is looking for is people with an open mind and a willingness to consider the role of Judaism in their lives.
2. The second thing you need to know is that rabbis can’t save the world. I know that’s disappointing but its true! A Rabbis job is to teach, to lead, to comfort, and to listen. But he/she is only one person. Our future is a joint effort. And if we don’t work together than we are doomed to failure.
3. Finally, remember that synagogues don’t belong to rabbis – they belong to you. We can show you the way but it is up to you to forge a path. If the synagogue does not address the real world, the challenges and issues affecting each of our lives then it will remain and empty, spiritless place. And if Judaism remains in the synagogue than this building will become a museum and not a community. Rabbis can teach by word and example but it is up to you to walk the walk. In the end it is the people of Israel who must cross the Jordan River - not the rabbi. We have our own path that we’ve chosen for ourselves.
So in the end I’m glad I didn’t listen to my mother twenty five years ago. Besides I get a little squeamish around blood. And I could not have chosen a more rewarding way of life. The opportunity to learn Torah, to teach Torah, and to serve Klal Yisrael is a constant source of both joy and anguish. If only congregants (and rabbis) would recognize both the possibilities and the limitations of what a rabbi can and should do, I suspect we would be better off.
Give up the rabbinate for Medical School?
Not in a million years!
Shabbat Shalom
