The rabbi sat in his study. Mrs. Schleplowitz was waiting in another room as her husband pleaded his case. When he finished, the rabbi said, “You’re right.” Mrs. Schleplowitz entered and pleaded her case. The rabbi said to her, “You’re right,” and she left the room. Overhearing all of this, the rabbi’s wife came in when the couple had exited. “You know, they each told very different stories about their marriage. Both of them can’t be right.” The rabbi looked at his wife and said, “You’re right, too!”
I could talk about rabbis’ wives, and how astute and bright most, like Suzy, are. But I’m not going to do that. Rather I’m focusing on the various roles rabbis play, from prophets to marriage counselors and everything in between. Having spent almost five decades in the rabbinate I’ve played most, if not all, of them.
The contemporary rabbi is seen as the “expert” in Judaism, but his/her expertise is usually manifest from the pulpit and in a teaching situation. S/he is also seen in a “priestly” role (“priest” as in kohen, the ritual expert). We do what has been called hatch, match and dispatch, that is, Brit milah/namings, weddings, funerals. Many are holed up in their studies surrounded by books and spend a great deal of time studying; some spend as much time writing their sermons because their basis is usually, though not always, something to do with Jewish history, customs, law, theology…you know. And there are others whose primary focus is on the pastoral aspects of the rabbinate, counseling, grief work, pre-marital discussions and the like. That was the essence of my rabbinate; my post-rabbinic degrees were not focused on ancient texts, rather in pastoral counseling and social work.
But there is a growing trend (though it’s been around ever since the modern rabbinate took shape) to expand the work of the rabbi. Some find great satisfaction and greater challenges, in working with Jewish college students, often in a Hillel setting. There are some rabbis who choose the chaplaincy, either in the military or in hospitals. Especially in the Orthodox world many who have been ordained choose not to enter any typical rabbinical function; rather they become businesspeople who enjoy studying for studying’s sake, have jobs in law, business, medicine, etc. and use their skills to learn more and more about what Judaism says about this or that. They’ll show up in the synagogue and although they are ordained rabbis, they sit with everyone else; they don’t need nor want the limelight of the bimah. When I studied for my MSW at Yeshiva University, one of my superb professors who taught psychological aberrations, was an ordained Orthodox rabbi. Somehow he found out I was married with three young kids, a pulpit rabbi with no assistant at the time, so he asked to speak to me. The conversation went something like this (a lot like this, in fact).
“I heard you have a congregation. How large is it?”
“We have about 750 families.”
Staring at me in disbelief, he said, “When I was ordained, I had a congregation of 100 members, not even families. I couldn’t take the nahrishkeit (nonsense) of the politics. After less than a year I gave them notice. And you’ve got a family and 750 FAMILIES! I’m sorry to say this, Peter, but you must be crazy!” And he should know!
I find most interesting how so many today are entering the rabbinate as a second career. Why in God’s name they would want to torment themselves…. OOPS, SORRY; what motivates them to leave, for example, Wall Street for the rabbinate is beyond me. Well, both can be stressful, yet the blessings of being a rabbi probably outshine the daily grind of many professions. I know that I for one have never been bored! and I’ve been blessed with a rabbinate so many of my friends and colleagues have coveted across the years. It’s a different “job” than when I entered, and I’m not the only one with that opinion. The opportunities for service are far broader than they used to be, and I can only hope my younger colleagues feel as good about their choice as have I.
(Speaking of our clergy, the story is told of the three terrorists who enter the synagogue just before Rosh Hashanah and take hostage the rabbi, cantor and president of the congregation. The governor would not budge. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists,” he said. Nothing they asked for would be coming their way…no money, no getaway car, no jumbo jet. The terrorists told their prisoners that if things didn’t change, they’d have to shoot them. But to show that they really weren’t so bad, the terrorists granted each of them one wish. The rabbi says, “You cannot kill me because I’m in the process of completing my holyday sermon. It’s no more than 2 hours long. Let me deliver it to my congregation.” The terrorists said he could do so. The cantor said, “I’ve perfected Kol Nidrei after half-a-century working on it. It’s no more than 45 minutes in length. I’ve got to chant it!” The terrorists said he could. Next it was the president’s turn. “Please,” he said, “shoot me first!”)