My Rabbinic Self: Changing Over the Years

I still remember the conversation I had with my rabbi, Rabbi Howard Kahn, alav hashalom, to tell him I wanted to become a rabbi. The first thing he said was, "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told my son. Find something else. Be the president of a synagogue and drive the rabbi crazy, but find something else."

He was serious, but so was I. I told Rabbi Kahn that I was committed to becoming a rabbi. He said, "So you'll go to Yeshiva University and get smichah (rabbinic ordination)." Yeshiva University is an Orthodox institution. Rabbi Kahn was ordained an Orthodox rabbi at the yeshiva Torah v'Daas. Our synagogue was Conservative, but the kind of Conservative synagogue that was jokingly referred to as Conservadox. I said to Rabbi Kahn that I did not think Yeshiva University was for me because I was not an Orthodox Jew. Interestingly, the Jewish Theological Seminary, which would have been the obvious choice for me, was not on his radar screen. So he told me that he had a friend who taught in a rabbinical school in Philadelphia. In a nutshell, that's how I ended up a student at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College. Perhaps I will flesh out that story in another entry.

I received a very good education at the  Reconstructionist Rabbinical College. I certainly had to confront issues there with which the Conservative movement had not yet begun to grapple. But I was not a good fit in the Reconstructionist movement. Reconstructionist congregations did not want rabbis like me who believed in halakha (Jewish law) and rejected the vast majority of their innovations like being Jewish through patrilineal descent. Thus far in my nineteen year career, I have served two congregations, both of which are egalitarian Conservative congregations. I have been a member of the Rabbinical Assembly (meaning I have officially been a Conservative rabbi) for well over fifteen years.

Before I was ordained, many of my classmates and I wrote articles for a magazine about our rabbinic goals. Unlike many of them, I was not out to recreate or reconstruct Judaism. I wrote about becoming a link in the same chain as my beloved mentor, Rabbi Kahn.  I was out to perpetuate that with which I had fallen in love.

At that time, my first love was Jewish ritual. I was enthralled with how Jewish ritual brought a sacred rhythm to life. I loved how Jewish ritual brought beauty to life, a beauty that was as unique to Judaism as the rituals themselves. I wrote about my goal of showing others the power and beauty of Jewish ritual, and how I hoped to help them enhance their own lives as Jewish ritual had enhanced mine.

Over the years, my focus has changed. I still love being a link in the same rabbinic chain as Rabbi Kahn, especially since he has passed on. I still love Jewish ritual. I find it as powerful and life enhancing as I ever did. But now I have a rabbinic vision and mission that is  even more important than sharing and teaching Jewish ritual. It is the sharing, teaching, and living of Jewish values.

Las Vegas has done clergy a great service with its advertising slogan "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." It provides us with a perfect foil. I frequently say "If what happens in synagogue stays in synagogue, synagogue is a waste of time." What we learn in synagogue must be carried out into the world on a daily basis.

All of Judaism's beautiful rituals are a means to an end, not the end itself. Every ritual commandment, whether keeping kosher or observing the Sabbath or not mixing wool and linen in the same garment, are there to teach us something about how to be better people. And the non-ritual teachings of Judaism, the values contained in the Torah, the rest of the Tanakh (the Hebrew Bible), and the other holy books of Judaism are the heart and soul of our religion. If Judaism provides us with a beautiful, ritual filled life but does not make us better people, it has not done its job. I will expand on this in subsequent posts, but I will conclude this entry with one of my favorite Jewish teachings.

It comes from a tractate in the Mishnah called Pirkei Avot, Chapter 3, mishnah 15. I will not quote the entire mishnah here, but I do promise that I have not taken anything out of context.

For our Hebrew readers, here is the original text:
.רבי אלעזר המודעי אומר... המלבין פני חברו ברבים... אין לו חלק לעולם הבא
And in English:
Rabbi Elazar the Moda'ite says…one who humiliates his fellow in public (literally "who causes his face to blanche white")…has no share in the World to Come.

Imagine that. Judaism takes shaming another person so seriously that it teaches the penalty for the offender is to lose his place in the World to Come, or in more colloquial terms, the offender does not go to Heaven. How much better would this world be if everyone avoided shaming others as if it would cost the offender his eternal life?

Who is the better Jew: one who eats pork and treats everyone with as much kindness as possible, or one who keeps kosher and treats others with harsh unkindness? I hope you read this question as rhetorical. I do.

We shall return to this theme in other entries. Until next time, Shalom!


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Click here to read my sermons online.
 

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Comments

  • 11/9/2011 2:53 PM Jack Kamen wrote:
    Complete agreement; but
    A problem is how to imbue us, the congregants with the same zeal displayed in this sermon.
    A significant part can be played by having class/discussion groups on matters halachic.
    We are drawn to what we know.
    Reply to this
  • 11/10/2011 3:50 PM Stacey Bunes wrote:
    I couldn't agree more! All the people who are protesting his firing should have done to them what that 10 year boy had to suffer and see if then they will sing the same tune. This county has really lost its way.
    Reply to this
    1. 11/17/2011 10:30 AM Jack Kamen wrote:
      Re: Paterno controversy
      There is no argument regarding the enormity of the harm done to the victims.
      The matter of culpability is in play.
      By law, Mr. Paterno followed the play- book as formulated by Penn. It is therefore highly probable that legally, at least, he is innocent.
      Does he have a moral guilt? This is a nebulous subject that depends on one's mores and the societal mileau.
      May I strongly recommend a recent editorial in the NYT by David Brooks?
      Op-Ed Columnist: The Devil and Joe Paterno
      By ROSS DOUTHAT
      When a life of virtue becomes an excuse for extraordinary vice.
      The link can probably be found in Google.
      Jack Kamen
      Reply to this
      1. 11/17/2011 11:33 AM Jack Kamen wrote:
        Sorry. Wrong article.
        The op-ed piece I had in mind was: Op-Ed Columnist: Let's All Feel Superior
        By DAVID BROOKS
        The general reaction to the Penn State atrocity has been self-righteous and dishonest. We should all take a look at our propensity to self-deceive.
        Jack Kamen
        Reply to this
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