As a child in New Haven, CT, I was encouraged and called upon to be an active participant and contributor to synagogue life in ways that would probably seem foreign, even bizarre, to our youth today. Some things stay the same, like leading Yigdal/ Adon Olam. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Here are three of my strongest memories related to my childhood shul experience:
1) Setting up the Kiddush after davening and cleaning up
afterwards. Not just throwing out my cup and plate (which I encourage everyone
to do at our shul as well). I mean taking herring out of the jar in the shul
kitchen and sticking a toothpick in it. I mean cutting up Entenmann’s cake and
plating it. I mean schlepping the
garbage can out to clean up and then bringing it back into the shul kitchen.
2) Getting ready for the High Holidays and Pesach:
helping to hang the white parochet. Cleaning out the pews, not just the pew
where I sat (which I encourage all of us to do) but going from seat to seat to
remove candy wrappers, tissues (some clean, some unfortunately not) and any
other garbage that might have accumulated. Putting out (and then putting back)
the Machzorim for Rosh Hashana and then for Yom Kippur.
3) Using a sledge hammer. The Sisterhood decided to
refurbish the front lobby and put in new tile. In order to save money a group
of youngsters, myself included, was commissioned to rip up the linoleum in
preparation for the new floors. We used scrapers and a sledgehammer to get the
job done.
In our small town shul, I learned an important lesson
through these experiences: You need to appreciate the unique and irreplaceable
contributions that you can make for your shul, for your community, for your
world. And if you don’t do it, no one else will. It just won’t get done.
Many of the opportunities that I encountered are not
available in a congregation like ours. The size of our shul coupled with a
commitment from the membership and lay leadership affords us the opportunity to
have professional and dedicated administrative and building staff who work very
hard to ensure that our logistical needs are taken care of. The size and scope
of our operations makes it highly unlikely that our teenagers will be called
upon to work on renovations or expansion projects when they occur (may they start
speedily in our days).
But absent hands-on experiences, I fear that people begin to
think that they are expendable; that it’s Ok if I don’t participate or
contribute, because things will get done without me. There is a risk that
people start to think: There will be a Minyan for those who need to say kaddish
whether or not I come on time (or come at all). The leining will get done –
whether I volunteer or not. Jewish communal life in Hollywood will roll on
whether I participate and contribute my unique abilities or not.
Rav Moshe Feinstein notes that before we read about Yosef
the dreamer and Yosef the man destined for leadership, we read that Yosef was a
shepherd alongside his brothers (37:2). Rav Moshe suggests this comes to teach
us the humility of Yosef. Before he utilized his unique talents for leadership,
he contributed in his unique way to herd sheep alongside everyone else. Yosef
teaches us that there is no such thing as an unimportant contribution to our
family/ community/ world. Yosef also teaches us that we develop into the people
we are destined to become by always looking for ways to participate, no matter
the size or prestige of the task at hand.
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