Halfway to Chai: Reflecting on Nine Years in the Rabbinate
by Rabbi Yair Robinson
This weekend marks the ninth anniversary of my ordination as rabbi. On May 31st, 2003, my classmates and I (19 of us in total) ascended the IM Wise Temple on Plum Street in Cincinnati, Ohio, to receive our charge to serve the Jewish people, the 120th such class to do so. It was an awesome, terribly humbling and overwhelming experience that still inspires me.
I remember thinking at the time, “Well, duh,” as only a soon-to-be ordained 27-year-old could think. Now nine years in, I think about that idea a lot. The more I serve the more I realize that, despite needing and craving for that relationship, so many people find themselves distant from their Judaism. Like bashful suitors, we blush and turn away when Judaism approaches. We get all tongue-tied and twisted up inside. Maybe it’s because we think we don’t know enough. Maybe it’s because of a previous, painful encounter (and there are no shortage of those, sadly). Maybe we simply don’t know how to start the conversation. And so we gaze at the Judaism that should be ours from across the room, and continue to feel distant.I bring this up even as we as a people are rubbing our hands with anxiety again (some more) about the state of the Jewish population, but also as increasing leaders in our community are calling for new ways of looking at to the problem itself, not just new solutions. More and more Jewish communal leaders are reframing the challenge from one of numbers (declining Jewish involvement in synagogues, JCCs; shrinking and aging population in general, etc.) to one of meaning and connection. We move the metrics from “how many people joined and/or came to the program” to asking: Did people changed their behavior (lit Shabbat candles more often, for example), or make meaningful connections with people, perhaps even informally? Did people feel something? Sure, it’s a harder metric to evaluate – it’s much easier to count heads – but sometimes the easy metric isn’t necessarily the right one. Or, to paraphrase my dad, while you always count the house, that doesn’t mean you adjust your service (or sermon) based on the house. Whether it’s 30 people or three who come, you do what you can to create connections and meaning.This week we begin the book of Numbers, and parashat bamidbar tells us two things: 1. the people are in the wilderness, and 2. they need to be counted, as if in a census. We gloss over this portion pretty quickly; it comes at the beginning of summer, and it’s not very ‘action’ oriented, especially compared with Shelach Lecha (The Spies), Korach (Rebellion) Balak (Bilaam’s blessing), or Pinchas (Zealotry in spear-hurtling form). And especially this year, as Bamidbar anticipates Shavuot, it would be easy to focus only on the receiving of the Torah. But in this moment, it’s worth reflecting. Increasingly we feel like we’re in the wilderness, and we nervously count our numbers. But we are called to count ourselves for a purpose: to enter the land and receive our birthright. How appropriate that our birthright – Torah – comes to us as we bid Shabbat farewell.
Nine years ago, Dr. Washofsky preached of the importance of facilitating that connection for people. And if we do our work the way we’re supposed to, we serve as God’s matchmakers in the best sense, helping to start that conversation with the tradition, and hopefully a lifelong love affair with Judaism. Not a bad thing to reflect on halfway to chai.
Rabbi Yair Robinson serves Congregation Beth Emeth in Wilmington, DE.
Originally posted at A Good Question!