The Achilles Heel of Liberal Congregations
Some experiences stick with you, forever. If we (congregational rabbis) are lucky we learn from them. But even with resolution, the memory lingers. Coming out of the dining room at the King David Hotel, I was accosted by a (soon-to-be) ex-congregant.
“Rabbi, I am the best congregant you have and you don’t appreciate me! I can chant Torah, study and attend services – and you have never even said, ‘Thank you.’
I replied, “You know that I value you – as I do all congregants. But you also know that everyone is equal; some more knowledgeable or observant, but equal.”
“No, I am more valuable than they are, and I should have more say in how we function.”
The irony of the situation was not lost on me. This congregant was in Israel because I had found the money to pay their way. In essence, I had brought them along hoping they would learn from it and we could create bonds to overcome our differences. It had worked before.
In my (then) congregation there was a small cadre of entitlement. They were service regulars and more observant than most: but consistently frustrated they could not dictate policy. To a great extent the rest of the congregation was passive. Why?
One great fallacy of liberal Judaism identifies the sanctuary as the focal point of the congregation. It is usually the largest room and the anchor of what is considered “holy.” But what happens there can just as easily repel as attract. One person’s spirituality can destroy another’s motivation.
It is also a space where the fewest members congregate weekly (except for two or three days of the year). In a functioning congregation, more attend nursery school, religious school, and social programs to just mention a few.
Don’t get me wrong: having facile liturgical help is invaluable – but is it more valuable than a master teacher? Ideally, I want both – but if I can only have one, I would choose the teacher. And in my world, knowledge and skill create humility, not arrogance. Being able to lead the congregation is a sacred task and should not become an ego trip.
While there are multiple reasons for this troubling dynamic, two stand out above the rest: Prayer is a most public expression of faith and those who lead the liturgy, by example stand out above the rest. No matter how hard we try, there is always an element of pride, especially when you are one of the few who can lead.
Second, and perhaps more to the point, in a liberal community where few are knowledgeable, if you don’t have a Torah reader – the “show” suffers. In essence a Torah reader can demand perks or go somewhere else – to the consternation of their congregation.
It happens more often than you think.
Prayer is a Mitzvah – but it is only one Mitzvah. Our tradition teaches that all Mitzvot are equal. So, is prayer more important than Shabbat? Is prayer more important than honoring parents, learning Torah? Shooing away the mother bird?
Eventually this congregant went to a rabbi who appreciated them more – and we were both relieved.