This is the second post in a series on the ways that New York City synagogues fulfill the mitzvah of hachnasat orechim (welcoming guests).
This morning I was at a synagogue that I don't regularly attend (which describes every synagogue, I suppose), for a special occasion. During the kedushah, a fast-paced melody was used, and I was rhythmically hitting the pew in front of me, as did a number of other people. A gentleman of a certain age (who was later identified to be a Conservative rabbi, but was emphatically not the rabbi of the congregation), sitting behind me, nudged me and said quite loudly, "It's an idolatrous custom!" I stopped.
After the kedushah was over, I turned around and said to him "It's asur to speak during kedushah." He said "I know that, but it's a bigger aveirah to bang on a bench like that. I was trying to save you." I said "I appreciate it." He said "I know all the hilchos mafsik, and I don't need to learn it from you."
Shaming someone in public is equated by the rabbis with murder, and that has to be worse than banging on a pew (or letting someone else do so and not "saving" them). Shame on him.
ReplyDeleteI hope that guy never visits Leader Minyan.
ReplyDeleteI'm curious about his halachic logic, though.
I witnessed the moment, and it was pretty unbelievable. And loud. Everyone in a 10-pew radius turned around to stare. I was talking to my mom motzei Shabbat and mentioned that the guy was a Conservative rabbi. She sighed and said, "Somehow that's not surprising. Do you think the movement will last 15 more years, or just 10?"
ReplyDeletei am somewhat confused about what the nature of idolotry is. is he implying that your banging signifies that you think the kedushah refers to the pew rather than *the one*. i suppose if that was thought to be the operating assumption in banging pews than the worry would be the idolotrous nature of the behavior. it seems somewhat of a stretch though, doesn't it.
ReplyDeleteIt was an odd, unfortunate, and quite insulting way for this gentleman to interact with you. Especially since [I was at this event, too] others were banging on the pews without any apparent objection from the kahal or the rabbi.
ReplyDeleteHowever, before you mark this incident as being somehow indicative of NYC shuls in general and Conservative ones in particular, I have to ask: was this guy a member of the shul? or was he a guest?
There isn't much excuse for his actions in either case, but it paints the quality of the shul's hachnasat orchim in a different light.
The report I got from someone was that he is a member but not a regular.
ReplyDeleteI didn't take it to be indicative of NYC shuls, or of Conservative ones (especially this one, since the rabbi is a friend, which is why we were there in the first place), but rather of the tendency of Conservative rabbis of a certain age to behave in certain ways. JTS wasn't exactly known for empahsizing people skills in the 1950s and 60s. (Sadly, it's not particularly known for emphasizing them now, either.)
ReplyDeleteI can't speak to the people skills of any particular class or grouping of rabbis, although it's a true shame if in your experience Conservative rabbis of a certain period have been lacking. But my response was in reaction to the first sentence of the original post:
ReplyDelete"This is the second post in a series on the way that New York City synagogues fulfill the mitzvah of hachanasat orechim..."
That said to me, possibly seeing something that wasn't there, that the incident was felt to reflect not (or, at least, not only) on the lack of people skills of rabbis from the 60's, but on the friendliness of contemporary synagogues.
Rambam asks: if you're sitting next to the fellow again and the tune comes on again, do you tap again? Will you change your behavior?
ReplyDelete1. At what point can a guest participate in a custom that a few members of the community participate in, not the majority? (i.e. clapping, harmonizing, swaying, standing/sitting for shema depending on minhag of community)
ReplyDelete2. Is the absence of objection by the rabbinic leadership and/or the kahal in general an endorsement of the minority’s minhag? In community there are often so many issues of conflicting personal customs that the kahal and rabbinic leadership “choose their battles” often not addressing the discomfort, distraction that minority minhagim may pose to some worshipers.
3. What percentage of the kahal must engage in a minhag before it becomes minhag hamakom? In the absence of a definitive number, does the minhag hamakom of the kahal become individual?
4. If the minhag of the kahal is individually determined, what should the practice be if there are two conflicting and opposing minhagim, when each group feels that their minhag is kiddush Hashem and the other is chilul Hashem?
not to claim that jts is perfect, but i think elizabeth's comment should be put into perspective.
ReplyDeletein the 50s and 60s, no one had pastoral classes for rabbinical school, and jts was one of the first to include them in the curriculum. many still do not have a sufficient pastoral component.
plus, and i think this is especially appropriate on a progressive jewish blog, i think at this auspicious and notoriously bad time for liberal/progressive/non triumphalistic/open minded religion, all this in-fighting can only hurt the cause, assuming there is a cause at all. if there's not, then my point ends here. if we assume a cause (as broadly understood as possible), then mutual support, not pot shots, and reasoned critiques, not sweeping denigrations add to the general discourse. i know you always squabble the most viciously with the ones with whom you are close and you feel betray you, but... what it represents is worth fighting for.
yeah?
I agree with Elizabeth. I think that it was one jerky guy. You get jerks everywhere, in New York, in shul, everywhere. You were just unfortunate enough to be seated in his vicinity.
ReplyDeleteI was sitting in front of you, enjoying the same out-of-this-world kedushah. I must say that I was startled and distracted from that etherial experience by the extreme loudness of your banging, which was entirely out of keeping with anything else that was going on. You are such a gifted and exquisite musician, that I was shocked to hear you behaving in a way so insensitive to the experience of others around you. Your banging was, far and away, the loudest sound in the room, including, from our vantage point, the shlichat tzibbur. That by no means excuses the uncalled-for words and the, yes, unwelcoming behavior of the person who was sitting behind you. I don't blame you for feeling stung and offended - by him. For my part, when you began banging loudly, my own hand, resting on the seat in front of you, instinctively spread into a softening, moderating gesture, and as soon as I realized that I had done this, I hoped that I had not offended you. I was in the midst of being moved by the gorgeous kedushah and by hearing, all around, the spirited participation of a whole congregation, elderly participants along with young people, in one of the most astoundingly uplifting and angelic kedushot that I have ever taken part in anywhere, including (with fond respect) a very large number of Leader-davenings. That this amazing kedushah, which moved you to bang, was taking place in one of NYC's oldest and historically most formal synagogues is surely the fact most worthy of note, in the big picture. The new rabbi of this congregation is taking people in directions in tefilah that many have never experienced before, anywhere. This will, inevitably, be a process of balancing sensitivity and honor for the customs and atmosphere of her historic synagogue with the gentle and tactful introduction of new, and old-new ideas. What took place around you, beginning to end, was entirely antithetical to that larger phenomenon, which has already begun to happen - a phenomenon so much more remarkable, to my mind, than the offending of one older person’s old-world sensibilities, and far more remarkable, too, than the exuberance of rooms full of twenty-somethings, with all due respect for them.
ReplyDeleteFor my part, when you began banging loudly, my own hand, resting on the seat in front of you, instinctively spread into a softening, moderating gesture, and as soon as I realized that I had done this, I hoped that I had not offended you.
ReplyDeleteSorry I didn't see you -- I think my eyes were closed at the time.
Thank you to (I think?) one of my teachers for another perspective on this incident. As I'm slowly but surely learning, davening is an intensely subjective experience. I'm normally crazily distracted and irritated by extraneous noise (and inappropriate banging) during davening. However, I didn't even notice BZ banging until the man behind us yelled. I guess it must not have struck me as particularly loud. Two Jews, three opinions :)
ReplyDeleteAll else aside, it is interesting to think about what's going on with the shul in light of its history. Thanks.
which schul was this?
ReplyDeleteI was trying to avoid any identifying details, so that this episode wouldn't reflect on the shul.
ReplyDeleteHi all, while I understand the desire to keep the shuls name anonymous to be respectful to the participants, one of the comments states:
ReplyDelete"in one of the most astoundingly uplifting and angelic kedushot that I have ever taken part in anywhere... That this amazing kedushah... was taking place in one of NYC's oldest and historically most formal synagogues is surely the fact most worthy of note, The new rabbi of this congregation is taking people in directions in tefilah that many have never experienced before, anywhere."
That sold me. Now I NEED to know which shul this is. Help.
Some people connected to the shul have posted comments, so I'll leave it up to them if they want to identify the shul on the blog. In the meantime, feel free to email me.
ReplyDeleteFROM HIRHURIM
ReplyDeleteWomen, Tefillin, and Throwing Oneself into a Furnace
From Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' devar Torah on this week's parashah from last year (link):
I will never forget an episode that occurred when I was a rabbinical student in the mid-1970s. A group of us, yeshivah students together with students from a rabbinical seminary, were praying together one morning in Switzerland, where we were attending a conference. We were using one of the rooms of the chateau where we were staying. A few minutes into the prayers, a new arrival entered the room: a woman Reform rabbi, wearing tallit and tefillin. She sat down among the men.
The students were shocked, and did not know what to do. Should they ask her to leave? Should they go elsewhere to pray? They clustered around the rabbi leading the group - today a highly respected Rosh Yeshivah in Israel. He looked up, saw the situation, and without hesitation and with great solemnity recited to the students the law derived from Tamar: "It is better that a person throw himself into a fiery furnace than shame his neighbour in public." He told the students to go back to their seats and carry on praying. G-d forbid that they should shame the woman. The memory of that moment has stayed with me ever since.
anonymous-- that story should be posted in big letters in the central bus station shul in J-m.
ReplyDeleteI davenned there once, dressed modestly if not "frum style", no tallit/tfillin, not while there was a minyan.
And I got yelled at for about all of sh'ma/amida non stop, that I was going to hell, my tfila was not being heard, it was better not to daven at all, I was making men sin*, did I think I was "conservative"? (!), what was wrong with my father that he hadn't taught me better, etc.
To be fair, the other guys ignored me, and an old man stood up for me and pointed out that there wasn't another place for me to daven.
*priceless mental images
Rebecca, I cant agree more. Needless to say there was more than a little discussion about the whole thing on Hirhurrim. Fascinating really, I cant imagine how people think that its their province to berate someone in public over davvening. Dont they think God can handle it?
ReplyDelete