Last night, I joined Sarah and her children at their synagogue for Friday night services. It was a big occasion—their synagogue is celebrating its hundredth anniversary. I had been with them before on a couple other occasions, like the second day of Rosh Hashanah and the second night’s Passover Seder. They have a choir for special holidays, and the choir is behind wooden screens, and I didn’t know they had one. (Totally freaked me out when I heard them start singing on Rosh Hashanah, and I muttered anxiously, “Where are they?” to one of Sarah’s kids, who helpfully pointed out the screens to me.) There was a choir last night, as well as a soloist who was phenomenal.
The place was packed, of course. And the service was wonderful. I have not enjoyed a service at my synagogue almost since our former rabbi left. No, wait, I really liked the service that my students led. Oh, wait. The rabbi was off job-hunting at his new position that weekend. Daled class, the principal, and I led the service.
I stopped listening to our interim’s sermons at all after a while. I don’t think a series of anecdotes is a subsitute for a sermon about the week’s Torah portion. I don’t care for superficial touchy-feely “YOU have the power” crap thrown into what is supposed to be teaching us about the Torah. And I especially don’t like the way the center of attention has been shifted from the service—and I am including bar mitzvahs—to the interim rabbi. Narcissim is not, in my opinion, a good quality for a religious leader.
That’s why it was an absolute pleasure to see a rabbi who both knows how to write a great sermon, and who relates it to the event of the moment. The rabbi on Friday night went so far as to research—and quote from—the man who was rabbi during the last anniversary celebration. Now that is a man who knows what it is to lead a congregation, and to find out what the membership wants, and give it to them accordingly.
That’s what we used to have. I miss it.
This post is written exclusively from my point of view as a member of my congregation, not as a teacher.