Questionnaire Under a Glass

 Quite a few years back I sent out a questionnaire to my congregation.  I wanted to learn more about them.  The needs of the people are paramount and how best to serve them than ask their needs?  I have wondered many times, before and since, “What do people want?”  Why do so many come week after week?  Why do others remain invisible unless there is a major life event?  And perhaps more grandiose, what is the secret of Jewish survival in America?  Most nagging of all, what do members expect of me, their rabbi?  What do I represent to those who flock to the synagogue and those who remain strangers apart of religious life?

So the questionnaire was designed to ask questions that I would never dare ask people individually because I would not want to shame them.  For example, asking someone if they keep a kosher home may be interpreted as a chastisement.  Or inquiring what they expect of the synagogue may invite painful admissions.  But asking what we are, as a community, a congregation, missing might bring about some revelatory responses.

Candidly I had no right to assume that I would get more than a few responses trickle in…but they flooded back.

The answers that came back were in some way uniform.  Wherever people individual observance or attendance lay, they wanted more.  All wanted something more than what was.  Some desired a larger sanctuary.  Others wanted to enlarge their scope of Jewish knowledge.  Some wanted professional licensed counselors available at the synagogue.  Others voiced a desire for full time educators on staff.

One of the respondents was irritated.  Anonymously, they scribbled on their returned document, “Is any of this reality?”  I took it to mean that they were wondering if the questions were a tease and of no value since no change would happen as a result of the responses.

That which I asked in the questionnaire were akin to a wish list.  The vast majority of the congregation I learned were anything but apathetic.  They all wanted change.  I suppose there was some legitimacy to the irate response I received.  After all, were I to present the aggregate wishes of the congregation to the Board of Directors there is no way they could afford what the people wanted.  There was no money for an executive director or cantor, executive secretory and more.  And yet.

If ten more families joined the synagogue we could expand the library.  With another ten we could consider a basketball court.  With another ten a full-time educator could be hired.  Another group and there might be a mikveh, a pool, a gym, chapel, psychologist….  No dream would beyond the scope of realization.

 

I think of all the bitter young Jews who harbor deep grudges against Jewish institutions, many of whom I have met.  Some feel they should not have to pay for membership.  Some were insulted by a teacher long ago and to date accuse synagogues of collective guilt for some wrongdoing decades ago.

“I want my money to go some real good,” some commented.  If I had a dollar for every time I heard that line…

Many times I have had to put up Jewish folks in motels for a few days until they sorted out their finances or terrible personal situation.  Or other times when a needy member confided their life was falling apparat and they needed a life preserver.  Truth be told, when my private funds were running low some saint from the congregation would step in.  I would call someone up and say, “I have an awful problem…”  They interrupt me midsentence (they all do this) and say, “Rabbi, I don’t need to know the situation.  Just tell me what you need.”  And most of these dependable folks have served on the Board at some time.  They are givers.

Some people just throw up their hands and confess they have no need for the synagogue.  “I have nothing against it.  It just does nothing for me.”  I have little to offer these people.  When the time comes, they or their loved ones will call me as a hired hand to eulogize them.  But they are missing two points.  One is that the shul offers more than religion.  It brings with it a concerned community.  When there is an illness, visitors come with chicken soup, kind words or flowers, and get-well cards. There are special programs, memorials and social events.  

Secondly, there are opportunities one is never aware of until they are placed before you.

Worse still, is the future. Dissociation from the synagogue weakens the whole body and less opportunities for those who affiliate.  It is odd that we are eager to give to charities that help the needy but reluctant to support the one institution that broadly supports your neighbors and relatives.  It also means fewer resources for the needy as the synagogue does not discriminate between hose that choose to affiliate and those who do not and great burden for those who remain in the congregation.  In short, we do with less.

There are no guarantees that being a member will ensure that your children will remain Jews but it does strengthen the odds.  Lack of interest in the affairs of community – you vote with your wallet and feet – the fate of the large part of the Jewish family hangs in the balance.  Our children learn by what we do, not by what we say.

What about those who are beyond the age of child-rearing?  Some seniors believe that once they are beyond their prime, they have paid their dues.  Now is the time to withdraw. 

To those who hold this opinion I urge, remember back to those who most influenced us – people who commitment to ideals and faith that they were towering influence whose hand guides us well beyond the grave.  What legacy do you leave behind?  Make no mistake, deeds are profoundly louder and more dramatic than anything else in the physical world.  Seniors can have a more powerful impact than even the peers or parents!

We will always be here for you.  If it’s counselling the Jewish Family Service will be here.  Years ago, we settled hundreds of Soviet immigrants.  In the past we actively fought threats from missionary groups and today against the tsunami of hatred against Jews.

We use our combined energies to support Israel, especially during times of crises, which are all too many.

We are small in number.  There are no huge endowments that undergird our congregational and communal organizations.  The needs are many, the demands are at times overwhelming.  To serve our people faithfully whenever they need requires us all.

One of the greatest teachers ever, Hillel, concisely stated, “Do not separate yourself from the community,” (Avot 2:4). That is an ethical imperative.  A student of his commented on his Master’s teaching, ‘One who sever his connections to the Jewish community will be twice cursed.  That person will share in all the tragedies that befall the Jewish people (this 2,000 years before Hitler) and will not share in its triumphs.’  The former curse has been proven correct.  However, I am not so sure about the latter comment as we are seriously weakened without every member.

Our synagogues and institutions are open to all without reservation.  While we are filled to capacity on the Days of Awe, no one is turned away when they seek God.  The safety net is ready to catch anyone when they need help.  It is here but could use bolstering that only you can provide.

Consider.  Be here for us.  We are here for you. 

 

 

Anyway

  

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

 

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.

 

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

 

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

 

Honesty makes you vulnerable.
Be honest anyway.

  

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
Fight for the underdogs anyway.

 

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.

 

People really need help but may attack you if you help them.
Help people anyway.

 

Give the world the best and you’ll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.

 

 

Slaves

Good news and bad news. 

The bad news is that you are a slave.  

The good news is that you are free to choose your master.  

You can be enslaved to technology.  The trouble with that is that every now and again the “god” goes on the blink.  That can be infuriating.  When you are in the middle of a project and the internet or computer goes on the “fritz” it can cause palpitations.  Or can be a slave to purchasing new things or eating beyond satiation but these too are momentary highs which leave us feeling more empty than before.

Even surrounding ourselves with people, the buzz of never being alone is an enslavement.  They will eventually let us down.  People are often troublesome, stubborn, egotistical and unforgiving.  Believe it or not, education and learning can become a false god.  One wit wrote that Aunt Sadie thought that the eighth day of creation, rivaling God’s crafting of the universe, was when her son Marvin became a doctor!

When we become compulsive about any thing it will inevitably leave us feeling blank and hollow. Few of us control our lives opting instead to choose a master.

Choose God.  Continue your learning. Walk out of doors.  Eat good food.  Practice mitzvot.  Love people. Love the world. Love yourself.  Embrace your soul.  It is all of the above and more.

Nozek

First published  1994

At the far end of the Nozek synagogue in Warsaw, Poland (the last standing shul in the city after the Shoah) stood a slight man with a thin beard.  He shifted uneasily from foot to foot.  Slight wisps of hair rose upon his head like strand of cotton.  His eyes betrayed a nervousness that made him stand out, rather than shrink into invisibly as he seemed to want.  Half trying to hide behind one of the shul’s columns he seems almost tempted to push his way into the group of visitors but too frighted to take that step.  So, there he remained shyly gazing at the visitors into his home.

“Shalom,” I said offering my hand.  He returned the greeting and his Hebrew sounded good so I continued, “I don’t understand.  All the other synagogues in Warsaw, some thirty-five, were razed by the Nazis.  Why did they save this one?  Why is Nozek still standing?“ He looked confused.

“Do you speak French,” he asked.

I was more than two decades since I last uttered any semblance of French.  About all I remembered was “Where is Jean-Pierre?”

I tried to dredge up memories but came up empty.

So I tried again.  Finally, he understood and conveyed through our minimal language that the shul was preserved to be used as a stable for the horses of the invaders.  The synagogue structure still had use for the Nazis after they desecrated it.  Nothing else remained of the once magnificent synagogue.  It was stripped bare.  Where the sacred Torahs once graced the Holy Ark in regal splendor with the finest silver and gold ornaments, there stood an empty cove.  Shreds of prayer books littered the floor.

“I am a rabbi.”

He looked puzzled so I repeated, “I am a rabbi.”

“Ah.”

My thin companion brightened.  He leaned over and whispered, “My name is Christopher. But,” he glanced around to seek out teacher standing by the door,” my name is now Israel.  Shh.”

He was studying to become a Jew.  One of the last ones.

“Are your parents Jewish?”

“Well, yes and no…,” he answered.  “My parents were communists.” I could barely hear his words.

“I understand.”  I gazed at him for a few moments and wondered, what words of encouragement could I give this young man on his journey to reclaim his lost heritage?  It was a long road ahead and I wondered where he was on this pathway.

“Good,” I said.  “Very good.”

He smiled.  “Thank you.”

I held him another moment. “Do you know what teshuvah means?  Yes? You understand that it means you are here.” I pointed.  “And then you go over there.  When you come back here it is called teshuvah.  Return. Welcome home, Israel.”

His eyes grew moist.

“Shalom,” we bade one another.

Amping the dead and dying of Warsaw there are a few lives reaching out from the depths of annihilation.  

Survivors all.  Our obligation is to revitalize our most precious possession.  Be Jewish.  Do Jewish.

 

 

Accentuate the Positive

 “The science of psychology has been far more successful on the negative than on the positive side; it has revealed to us much about man’s shortcomings, his illness, his sins, but little about his potentialities…”, observed psychologist Abraham Maslow.

 

It is far easier to focus on what is wrong than what is right.  It is what Dennis Prager calls, “the missing tile syndrome.”  You can visit a museum, study great works of art and become enraptured by the beauty that you see.  But, if you happen across a mosaic, fantastic and magnificent in its artisanship and a single tile - out of thousands - is missing, our natural inclination is to focus on the imperfection, the one missing tile, and miss the grander picture.  We are prone to look for flaws and focus on them instead of centering on what is right.  All we see is the broken picture.  

 

If this propensity was limited to artwork, it would not be so inditing, but we tend to do this with people as well.  We see their warts, personality flaws, and limitations while ignoring the whole human being.   What would life be like if we only saw what was best and admirable in people instead of looking for their shortcomings?  Certainly, we would be less critical of others, and accentuate their assets rather than their deficits.  Interestingly, most people would then live up to our positive observations about them: they would rise to our expectations and not live down to negative opinion.  There is an additional incentive to this novel modality; we would be happier people.

 

Most of the world lives with the belief that through economic prosperity, buying and owning more stuff, they are happier.  Wealth is generally measured by how much you have versus your neighbors.  Yet, polls have consistently found that wealth does not correlate with happiness.  Constant pitting oneself against others causes much heartache and dissatisfaction and the tendency to compare wealth feeds the propensity in us to undermine others, i.e., detailing their flaws, through defamation, character assassination or something more insidious.  

 

Bhutan is a tiny country of about one million in the foothills of the Himalayas.  In 1972 the government moved away from the rush to embrace the highest GNP to the GNH, Gross National Happiness.  The populace of Bhutan is not rich, but the general sense of wellbeing and contentment outstrips other countries.  They are happier people.

 

Robert Kennedy incisively said in 1968, “But even if we act to erase material poverty, there is another greater task.  It is to confront the poverty of satisfaction...that afflicts us all."  Unhappy people seek to validate their life by comparing themselves to others.  That does not make for a happier life.  The opposite.  To note what is missing from another person's life, or absent in your own, promotes a sense of dissatisfaction.

 

Think about this the next time you compare yourself to another person or hear someone complain about how so-and-so is not a good person because....  This is "the missing tile syndrome."  Life is greater than what we perceive as absent.  The mosaic of life is colorful, grand, and each piece utterly unique.  Everyone is broken.  And everyone is as perfect as they need to be.

 

Connection

  Long ago when my son wanted to play with me, he would use this argument, “Abba, if you won’t play with me, I will not be your best friend.”  Always a good attention-grabber.  Turning toward him, I responded, “I do not have to be your best friend. I am your father.  I love you but I don’t have to be your best friend.”

 

What happens behind the scenes takes place somewhere deep in the psyche – unspoken but ever-present – is love.  My son threatens me that unless I do what he wants he will no longer love me.  Love lies at the heart of this and all relationships.

 

Love is tenacious; it defies all logic and reason.  That much I have learned from the instances of betrayal I have dealt with through the years – where the one who was betrayed refuses to give up.  The adultery for them is like an apparition or nightmare.  Soon they will wake up and it will all be gone, they believe.  Love is also tentative; it is never sure that it really exists and it is impossible to test.  How do you know you re loved?  Because they say so?  Or because you feel that way?  What if that love is challenged?  How do we cope with the assault on our feelings?

 

A woman came to me with a complaint.  Her husband had left her and now in the wake of her abandonment she had problems with giving and receiving love.  There were several relationships sin the intervening years and each was a dismal failure.  She whispered in barely audible voice that she believed life had harden her to the point where she was no longer capable of love.

 

We have all been abandoned at various points in our life.  Doesn’t society tell us to seek out new and separate lives from our families, not in avoidance of love but in self-interest, to develop our abilities.  Families do not eat together.  Time is fragmented.  There are plays, ballet and sports.  Mom works.  Dad complains of overwork,  Even vacations are spent being entertained with specific interest and not as a whole unit.  Travel packages cater to programs for all ages.  The result?  More time spent apart.  Family gathering are infrequent, if at all.  Once grandparents and grandchildren lived together.  Now we are on polite and distant terms.  And love suffers.

 

The word “religion” comes from the Latin root meaning “to bind.”  It is little surprise then that as families have drifted apart so has modernity lost its moorings to faith.  

 

Now and then we encounter moments when loneliness and separation dissipate and we converge, as one.  One such time are the Days of Awe.  We come together as a fragmented, broken family to renew our bonds as distant relations and to God as equals.

 

During the Holy Days we recite a litany of sins:

>For the sin of spitefulness

>For the sin of corruption

>For the sin of xenophobia

>For the sin of lying

>For the sin of evading taxed

>For the sin of lust

>For the sin of stealing

All these are presented before the Master of thew universe, pitiful creatures all, seeking the same thing.  Forgiveness.  Absolution.  Healing the brokenness of our hearts and families.

 

In the midrash God quotes Jeremiah: “I have loved you with an eternal love.” (31:3)  “Note that the phrase does not say “endless love” but an eternal love.  Otherwise, you might think that God loves us for two or three year or maybe one hundred years.  But H=s love is everlasting, to all eternity.”

 

Coming together at synagogue on the Holy Days is the great leveler of humanity.  We come seeking love and acceptance and are given it.  We laugh, cry, shudder and touch one another.  The unspoken question: What has happened to us?  And whereto from here?  How can we turn ourselves into a whole one, not fragmented torn and lonely?

 

It is our tradition that a Jew be buried in their own tallit.  We would do well to remember that life is short.  Give up the ego. Check it at the door or in the cloakroom.  Find yourself with those who also want to find themselves and their lost connection.