Rabbi's Weekly Teaching
Parashat Vaetchanan
Friday, August 12th, 2011
At a time when we are beginning to think about the new Jewish year, and about tasks ahead for the fall season, when some of us are relishing those last few days of vacation, and considering, ever so reluctantly, the imminent demands of work, school and life in general, I've been pondering a new look at the idea of a "job description." At seminary, as a young student, I don't know that a job description ever would have realistically prepared me and my colleagues for the rabbinic life that lay ahead. A rabbi's job can be as diverse and varied as the seasons, ranging from pastoral work, counseling, and synagogue administration on one day, to visiting the sick, teaching learners of every age and background, and studying and preaching the next.
Additionally, on any given day, a rabbi travels the full gamut of human experience, moving from place to place, and from person to person, confronting the joys and fears, celebrations and crises of those who face life's moments through the lens of faith, and also in the moments we all experience, when our hold on faith slips from our grasp. In the context of these faith questions, I also think about how we share the task of upholding our Jewish peoplehood, and defining our place in a world that we, as Jews, are supposed to leave just a little bit better than we found it. It made me wonder: what exactly is a Jew's "job description?" Obviously, there are many possible answers, but the one I like best is that a Jew must cultivate the ability to effectively look inward so then we can then, both as a people and as individuals, productively look outward.
The primary mechanism, by which we look inward in a Jewish context, is through engaging in and with our traditional liturgy. When we truly hear words of Torah, prayer, and sacred song within our hearts, minds and souls, we try to better understand who we are, and what God expects of us. Through the contextual elements of translation from Hebrew to English (and vice versa) and by listening to sacred melodies ranging from the ancient tunes that have come down through the generations, to the modern songs our children bring home, like new friends, from summer camp, we can experience our liturgy in both old and new ways that connect us both with our Jewish past and our people's future. And finally, with our kavannah (prayerful intentionality) we can learn how to utilize the words of prayer to focus our gaze inward, and prompt ourselves to change for the better.
There's a story of a young rabbi who arrived in a town to become a prophet. He stood in the town square and yelled his message out at all the people: "Repent and return to God!" For decades the rabbi took his position in the town square, and shouted out the same words: "Repent and return to God!" One day, a young child came to the rabbi and said to him: "Why do you bother with this? No one ever listens to you." The rabbi smiled at the young boy and gently replied: "When I first came to this place, I had hoped to change the world. After many years, I hoped to change the town. Then, I hoped to change just a few people. Now, I preach here only in the hope to effectively change myself."
Much of our disappointment in life can result from the notion of a "job description." Without realizing it, in our minds, we often create job descriptions for all of the people in our lives. We all live with the idea of the ideal spouse and perfect children, colleagues who never make mistakes, and friendship without flaws. And when the very human people around us don't live up to the expectations we set forth for them in our minds, we end up like the rabbi in the town square, yelling our messages of change to an audience that remains unmoved by our pleas. Even when we have another person's best interest at heart in our idea of what they should be, it is too easy to get caught up in the idea of fixing someone else's faults when we don't think we need to do anything to fix our own. We spend too much wasted energy on trying to change others, and not enough spiritual energy on attempting to change ourselves for the better.
I think that the rabbi who was intent on becoming a prophet was on to something very important: he knew that in the effort to ultimately change himself, he could impact the world. He narrowed his job description from the goal of changing others - a goal that comes with the probability of unmet expectations - to the goal of strengthening his own faith in himself. The fact that he could answer a child's question with wisdom and understanding signifies his potential influence on that child, and through that child, the future. Rabbinic tradition teaches that each of us "stands on the cusp between salvation and destruction." Each and every action we choose to perform - or not -- can tip the Divine scale of Judgment one way or the other: not just for ourselves, but for the entire world.
Consider the impact that you may have on that Divine scale of Judgment! This Shabbat, take a moment to check in on how you are doing - as a person, as a peer, as a parent, as a partner. Clearly, our individual choices, our questions and our answers have the power, according to Jewish tradition, to not only change us, but change the entire world. We can make a positive difference only when we are unafraid to commit to careful daily self-examination - checking in to see how we are measuring up to our own job description - and making sure that we engage in appropriate follow-up with those whose lives we impact - and, of course, ourselves.
As we look to a new season, may we find the courage to look inward and take a sacred self-inventory, and may we allow life and love's sweetness to help us re-write our own job descriptions, and guide us in how we wish to better perform more acts of loving kindness in the days and years to come.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Mitch
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