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. 

 

 

Boo-Boos

We are prone to making boo-boos.  Not the kind where you scrape your knee or hit your head getting out the car too fast but the other kind.  Boo-boos are good.  They mean we are experimenting, taking a chance, stepping beyond our usual habits.  

Take jokes, for example.  Some people seem to naturally funny and others, well, not so much.  Yet we all like to laugh and make other experience the joy of a good chuckle. When they fall flat, do not give up, try telling the joke again until you get it right.

There are many wondrous and difficult aspects to being a child.  One the other former is that we are game for about anything, jumping off a high limb, rolling in the mud, tasting dog biscuits and eating asparagus (that does no usually end up so good).

It is a sad day when we grow up and admit, “We can’t do it.”  And worse, we do not even try.

Y. Peretz, crafter of Hebrew stories wrote, “Nobody trips over a mountain; you trip over a pebble.”  When we fail it is hardly ever disastrous.  Failure is a signal that we need to modify what we did, not stop trying.

On June 2, 2010, Armando Galarraga, 28 pitched what seemed to be a perfect game, a feat only achieved twenty times in Major League Baseball's 130 year history. However, on the very last play of the game, umpire Jim Joyce, 65, mistakenly called the runner safe at first base, ruining the perfect game. After the game, understanding the mistake he had made and the implications to Galarraga, with tears in his eyes, Joyce went over to Galarraga and apologized, admitting his mistake. Galarraga graciously accepted his apology saying, "nobody's perfect. Everybody's human. " They then wrote a book together titled "Nobody's Perfect."

The thing is the pitcher did not retire or give up.  He continued on, having learned an unintended lesson of life.

Mistakes should always be purposeful, never meaningless.  Yogi Berra once commented, “I don’t want to make the wrong mistake.”  He was right, in his inimitable way.  There are some mistakes that are bad choices but even then we learn and grow.

Talmud, which is the judicial and philosophical backbone of our people, is full of trial, error and then more trial.  “Arguments for the sake of truth,” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks labeled it.

The Mei Shiloach, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef of Ishbitz, wrote, “A person can only uphold the teachings of the Torah when he has stumbled in them.”  The sage is telling us, “Go ahead, take a chance, a risk, make mistakes, learn from them, change, and grow.

It’s a New Year.  We are  year older and G-d willing, a year wiser.  Even Torah has Moss and David doing some real bloopers.  Yet their greatness is that they become great through their errors.

Give it your best shot.  Then give it your better shot.

God's Voice

Gifts are something received, usually from another person.  Yet, there are times when gifts are received from Above or from within, not from a person. The origin of the gift does not diminish or change its value. In fact, it will often enhance it.

In conversations throughout my career with people going through turmoil I will often ask whether someone believes that God has a plan for them. After they briefly reflect, the answer I usually get back is “no,” they do not believe in destiny.  God does not steer them through life.  They choose their own path and choices.

“What if,” I urge them on, “What if God whispers into your mind options that exceed your present mindset?  What if ideas come randomly that tell you that there is more to life than what you know now?  It is then becomes your choice to follow the voice or take the path that is most familiar.” In other words, I suggest, God has a plan for us but we can turn aside from it or remain indifferent to the directional.

Pain and the fear of pain is one of the strongest impediments to change and growth.  Those who can reinvent themselves or change life’s direction may find deep reservoirs of creativity and strengths they never knew existed.

Renoir uttered as he struggled with painful arthritic fingers, “The pain passes, the beauty remains.”

The artist would not be deterred from his passion despite the pain.  For Renoir, the gift needed to be released.  Nothing would stand in his way of making artistic masterpieces.

That is our challenge.  Can we muster the internal fortitude to live up to God’s expectation of us and our potential?

The Talmud declares, “Growth or death.”  Of course they do not mean to say that if we do not grow we actually die physically; but we do kill our potential.

Once, when we were young, we were fearless. Challenges were taken to be opportunities.  Then with age, we learned to take fewer challenges to avoid failure.  This decision limited our ability to learn and transcend what we are.  Of course that does not mean that we should immediately take up skydiving.  Or does it?  In any event, the risk of failure is worth the price paid as it results in a more meaningful life.

In “Living with Loss,” the authors declare, “Ultimately whether grief destroys you or strengthens you is something only you can decide.”  I suspect that throughout our lives, God gently encourages us to move out of our comfort zone – to learn new skills, take a Hebrew class, become an adult Bar Mitzvah, travel to Israel, stand up and speak out for our beliefs, sing more loudly, take up dance lessons, enroll in an on-line course in Jewish thought, take the class in creative art that you’ve always dreamed of…   Listen to the whisper of the Voice.