Is a Rabbi just a glorified service professional?

The role of the rabbi has evolved over time. Whereas once he was only the arbiter of disputes or perhaps the director of divine ritual, nowadays he has developed multiple roles.

The yeshiva system was not developed with the modern rabbi in mind. Its curriculum lacks emphasis on pastoral care, managerial skills, program development and public speaking, not to mention the subtle art of politics. Rabbis have to manoeuvre their way through the labyrinth of communal challenges, drawing at times from anecdotal advice of peers but having to manage mainly through trial and error.

This issue is slowly being addressed; more modern yeshivot have implemented managerial programs as well as public speaking and counselling courses to assist young rabbis who are pursuing their calling.

The rabbinate has its share of ups and downs, but what distinguishes it from other careers is that the rabbi considers his role as one thing while the congregant sees it as another.

Perhaps the most difficult area is where the rabbi is viewed as a therapist or celebrant. Although these are seemingly unrelated fields, they both highlight where the rabbi-congregant relationship breaks down.

Therapists fulfil an extremely important function. They provide support during times of distress and encouragement when self-doubt abounds. But the therapist’s role extends as far as the door. When the client leaves the therapeutic encounter, the two remain strangers. The therapist may share in the client’s successes, but it occurs only inside the consulting room. The therapist is paid for their advice and counsel, not their friendship.

The celebrant, on the other hand, shares in the couple’s greatest joy. He serves a critical role of officiating at their wedding, but he too is only superficially involved in their lives; the next day, all that remains is to settle the bill. There is no relationship, there is no connection. He is, after all, a paid official.

In contrast, the rabbi sees his role as a connector  ̶  connecting Jews to one another and connecting people to their tradition. In order to facilitate his role, the rabbi engages his congregation. He desires to share in their joys and mourn their sadness. He seeks to facilitate lasting bonds between children and their parents. He endeavours to create shalom between husbands and wives. He pursues opportunities to unite his community. He tries to formulate a lasting bond between Hashem and His people.

This is the rabbi’s calling.

When parents use the rabbi as a celebrant for their children’s weddings but do not allow the relationship between their children and the rabbi to germinate, they deny the next generation an opportunity of connecting. They do both the rabbi and their children a disservice.

When the rabbi is called upon to resolve your most intimate life problems, but you exclude him from your triumphs, you sever the connection that could have been. He has become a service provider.

The rabbi of your shul doesn’t have to be your rabbi of choice; perhaps the rabbi you feel connected to officiates elsewhere. One needs to feel a connection of love, concern and friendship with their ‘Rov’ ̶  his wisdom will not be well served if his community is not open to hearing it.

“Aseh lecha Rav, ukaneh lecha chaver” ̶  make for yourself a rabbi and acquire for you a friend. – Ethics of the father 1:6

The little white lie that snowballed

Why trying to protect others usually ends up hurting them

Trust is the cornerstone of all relationships. Their success depends on believing the person that we are speaking to, and trusting everything they say.

That being said, there are times in life where we seek to hide the painful truth from those to whom we are deeply connected. Our motives are often sincere; we want to spare them from the stress and anxiety of the truth so we tell a ‘little white lie’.

The best litmus test of whether these lies are helpful in relationships is to reverse the roles.

Would you prefer to be lied to or told the truth?

This inconsistency is very problematic not only because we are breaching the trust of those who depend on us, but also because the very idea of ‘sparing ‘ someone pain often snowballs into bigger pain.

Invariably, little white lies evolve into larger lies in order to cover the tracks of the original lie. The inability of the liar to backtrack leads him down a path of perpetual lying, which will inevitably be discovered.

Once the lid is lifted on this game, trust is broken forever. The relationship is irreparably damaged and often spirals into a vicious cycle of mistrust. Every statement is viewed sceptically and even the truth is doubted. “The punishment of the liar is that even when they tell the truth, no one believes them.”

The short-term pain of sharing your fears and failings with those who you care about is more likely to bring you closer together. Hiding them in an attempt to show that “I know what you need” causes long-term pain that cuts deeper and leaves scars ... if they heal at all.

same same...but different

“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”  ̶  Thomas Jefferson

“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men and women are created equal.”  ̶  Elizabeth Cady Stanton

“Same same ... but different”  ̶  Nike

The world has developed and progressed in virtually every area of gender equality. Whereas once women could not vote, today we have seen many female prime ministers internationally, as well as a potential United States president. Women were once denied all educational opportunities, but now in most developed nations, women outnumber men in tertiary institutions.

But there are still two areas where the difference between men and women is very stark and pronounced: religion and sport.

In the sporting arena, athletes compete in gender-separate events in virtually every category. Equality is not expected and we demand that the sports remain segregated. The natural physiological differences deny the opportunity for a level playing field. We accept this fact, and although there are campaigns to equate the quality of the sportsmanship and publicity of women’s events, the status quo is accepted.

In other words, men and women are the same, but they are different.

What should our approach be to the question of religious equality, both in observance and leadership? On the one hand men and women are not the same, but on the other hand, aren’t we? Is religion more akin to the sports field or the classroom?

We need to distinguish between divinely ordained differences, be they physical or spiritual, and those imposed by social conventions.

The question is, which is which?

Can a woman teach Halacha? Give a sermon? Lead a community? Officiate?

Many of these questions have clear answers, but some still fall into a grey area.

Perhaps the personal question we should ask is if it is our social norms or the divine imperative that drives our motives  ̶  whether that be towards equality or ‘digging in’ the heels of tradition.

"I hate confrontation!"

Invariably people say and do insensitive and hurtful things. It may be malicious and intentional, but more often than not it’s the result of a lack of consciousness and an insensitivity to the feelings and situation of those nearby.

So you are upset. How do you deal with it?

Most people react in one of two ways: they suppress their hurt and move on, or they confront the issue in an aggressive manner.

Being aggressive seldom solves anything; in fact, it is more likely to exacerbate the situation, especially if the hurt was unintentional. To wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve and confront the perpetrator is logical and rational, even if it isn't wise.

The model of suppression is one that I have witnessed more often. “I don’t want to make an issue of it”; “I'm not a confrontational person”; “I should just let it go...”

The problem is that “the words don’t fit the mouth”. (Points for anyone who can guess where that quote is from!) Many people claim to be non-confrontational in an attempt to get people to like them. The ‘people pleaser’ mentality  is deeply rooted in either a fear of rejection and/or fear of failure.  

It’s not that we shouldn't ‘let it go and move on’, it’s just that in most cases we don’t; instead, we suppress. The suppression of negative feelings doesn't make those feelings go away, it just bottles them up. In time they build and start to manifest themselves either in passive-aggressive patterns, unconscious distancing or avoidance.

Negative feelings will not just go away; they need to be dealt with or they will find a way of dealing with you.

While we often approach situations in a very black or white manner, there is another more balanced approach that is seldom explored: addressing issues that have caused you pain in a direct and assertive way, but without aggressive confrontation.

Here are some tips to assist you with helpful confrontation.

• Ensure that you don’t deal with the issue while you are still seething. Calm down first.
• Dedicate a conversation to the issue and don’t allow yourself to make it a side point   ̶   “...and by the way, the other day you said...”
• Speak for yourself, not for others. Don’t assume you know why people did what they did.
• Don’t say “You made me feel...”, “You are so...”
• Do say “When you said ... I felt”, “I feel sad/angry/disappointed because of...”

Arrogance through the back door

Last week I mentioned a concept that often we see arrogance and narcissism where in fact there is exactly the opposite, insecurity and low self-esteem.

Sometimes the process can be exactly the opposite.

Two men were standing in a public art gallery, admiring a collection that had been donated by an anonymous donor. One man turns to the other and gestured for him to come closer. He cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered softly into the other’s ear “I am the anonymous donor.”

False humility is the purest form of arrogance. Real humility cannot ever be detected, because the deeds of the individual are never known.

It isn’t that the average ‘humble’ individual doesn’t want recognition, but rather they want a certain kind of recognition. They want the credit of anonymity to escort the recognition.

If you have ever been disappointed or angered at not having received recognition for a kindness you have done, then you fall into this group.

“I didn’t do it for the recognition, but they should’ve at least sent a card/text/email to show their appreciation.” – does this sound familiar?

But perhaps there is even a more sinister side to false humility; wanting to be the only giver.

There is giving and taking, but there is also giving and receiving.

Taking is absorbing all that which is thrown your way, whether as a reward for something, perhaps what you’ve done (like a compliment) or for who you are (gift).

Receiving, on the other hand, is another form of giving. It is the ability to make the space to allow others to show gratitude. At times we have to allow others the opportunity to expunge themselves of feeling a sense of indebtedness. By denying them that opportunity, because “We don’t want to be recognised”, we doop ourselves into a form of arrogance that has disguised itself as a selfless march towards piety.

Arrogance through the back door.

RABBI, INSPIRE US!

I often get the sense when I stand up on the pulpit, especially during the High Holy Days, that I am an entertainer.

As I get up, people settle into their chairs, lean back and seem to say, “OK Rabbi, inspire me!”

A good drosha is perceived as one that either entertains or inspires, rather than teaches or challenges. It’s similar to a trip to the dentist, where a good visit is described as one that wasn’t too painful.

But is that the job of the Rabbi?

Let’s put aside the entertainment component − which is definitely a great tool in a Rabbinic shed as I think we would all agree that it is not the Rabbi’s role to entertain. But is it reasonable to expect the Rabbi to inspire his congregation?

Yes and no.

Yes, because the Rabbi should be a living role model of Judaism. His enthusiasm for Jewish life and values should be evident not only in his sermons and shiurim, but in his very disposition and character. People should want to emulate his lifestyle or at least improve on their own as a result of interacting with the Rabbi. This part of the Rabbinic role is very difficult, but the success or failure of a Rabbi’s performance depends heavily on his ability to fulfil it.

No, because inspiration is a drug and the effect of a drug does not last forever; it wears off over time, often very quickly. The most rousing and stirring of sermons may move every listener to tears and hope for a better life, but an hour, day or week later the message has turned stale and the ‘performance’ forgotten.

Hillel asks, “If I am not for me then who will be for me?”

The 11^th-century scholar Rabbeinu Yonah comments on this statement: “Because the motivation of others is only good for a short period of time...”

No sermon can change a person. No Shabbat Project can change a community. Only someone who chooses to take the inspiration and internalise it can really make any change.

Give life to years, not years to life

We have learnt to add years to life, but we are becoming increasingly unsuccessful in adding life to years.

Despite the clichés − “living in the moment”; “live each day like it’s your last”; “count your blessings” − we constantly seem to be waiting for life to happen.

It’s not going to and it just did.

Just as we spend time worrying about things that never materialise, we spend more time waiting and wanting things to happen, but are often oblivious to them when they do happen.

King Solomon writes of this phenomenon in his song of songs: A prince bids his bride farewell as he leaves on a lengthy journey, promising to one day return. Every night his bride laments his absence before she goes to bed, hoping one day that he’ll come back. Then, after many years, the prince returns and bangs on his bride’s door, announcing his triumphant homecoming. Alas, she is so busy crying herself to sleep, muttering, “If only my prince would return...”, that she misses his knock. Eventually, the disenchanted prince shuffles away, despondent. At that point it dawns upon the bride that she may have heard a knock at the door. She rushes to open it ... only to find no one there.

So too with life, we wait for our ‘moment’ to arrive. But when opportunity knocks, we are too ‘busy’ to hear it.

A life well lived is one lived in the present, not the future or the past.

Can someone please tell me who I am...

Movements in society often follow a familiar trajectory of establishment-revolution-counter revolution. The logic is that the establishment rules for a period of time until others, often the poor, weak and disenfranchised, rise up to overthrow the immoral regime.

Often the revolution is too extreme, attracting the tyrants that the people sought to rid themselves of. It is often the counter-revolution that moves society back into line and towards what will become the new establishment.

The psychology of the individual can often work in a similar manner. A person behaves in a certain way largely due to social norms and pressures. In time they realise the error of their ways and revolt, becoming social revolutionaries. Having seen the light, they desist from their errant ways. In time, however, they come to realise that they have really missed the whole point of what was happening.

Let me furnish you with a contemporary case study.

We are living in a time where people are not only obsessed with notifying us ‘textfully’ where they are and what they are doing, but have also moved towards photographing and even video-recording our lives in a feeble attempt to turn them into a viral reality show.

Why do we do this?

Largely because this is the current established practice of society. We facebook, twitter, blog, selfie and GoPro because that is how we stay current or, to be more specific, allow others to stay current with us. − Stage 1.

Stage 2 − the revolution. This is when we finally realise what a bunch of narcissists we’ve become, obsessed with sharing our lives and the very notion of “look at me” and “listen to me”. We’re arrogant enough to believe that others care what we eat, watch or even what our commute to the city feels like. To be fair, most people haven’t reached this stage. Once people become enlightened to their latent, or maybe not so latent, narcissism, they tend to refrain from such public displays of private affairs.

Stage 3 − the counter-revolution. This is when we finally realise that it was never narcissism in the first place. Narcissism necessitates a sense of pure arrogance, importance and grandiosity. Most people are the exact opposite; we lack any semblance of self-esteem and confidence. We come to realise that the reason we try so desperately to get the attention of others isn’t because we think we are great, but rather because we feel completely insignificant.

Perhaps if someone notices us, we can find out who we are.

“There is nothing new under the sun.” The desperation for public approval in an attempt to quieten personal disapproval is nothing new. What has changed is that there are more ways, mediums and people that need attracting and whose approval we are seeking.

Apparently, desperate times call for desperate measures. Technology is being fuelled by desperation, not for connection, but for recognition.