Rabbis and Their Discontents

The Rabbinate, Its Stress, & Its Reasons

In a 1985 article, Commentary Magazine wished to tackle the subject of Rabbinic Stress. Stumbling this week upon this thirty-year old column, I laughed aloud upon reading the following:

“Leslie R. Freedman, a clinical psychologist who had recently completed a nationwide study…Basing himself on interviews as well as on answers he had received from 1,342 rabbis to a questionnaire containing over 220 items, Dr. Freedman concluded that rabbis suffer from unusually high levels of stress. Whereas, for example, men living within a twenty-mile radius of Three Mile Island during the month following the accident at the nuclear reactor there scored an anxiety level of 0.983, and the general male population at the time scored 0.915, rabbis scored 1.104. What was more, they seemed to score that level of stress continuously (the level at Three Mile Island dropped off shortly to that of the general population). What was still more, Dr. Freedman revealed in a minor but significant finding, 30 percent of the rabbis he studied felt that their wives would prefer them to be in another profession.”

More stress than workers at a nuclear plant?! More stress than workers at a nuclear plant immediately following the worst nuclear-reactor meltdown in the history of the United States?! How can this be true?

In a couple of weeks, we will be returning to our summer series on the early history of rabbanus in America. Last year we saw the early stages of the American-made Conservative movement, and those that saw early the movement for what it was, and how valiantly they fought against it. Sadly, its creators did not see what these gedolim saw: an unsustainable future.

The above Commentary article, and the poll it quoted, was targeting a different type of ‘rabbi’ –those outside of the daled amos shel halacha, now 100 years since their American birth (Reform Judaism, of course, began earlier in Germany). However, even they, at least thirty-years ago, felt that culture was getting ahead of faith. The thesis of the article is that rabbis were becoming victims of the age they lived in, their temples so poisoned by a pervasive culture that the rabbi could not even recognize their jobs anymore, or even themselves. Hence the stress.

In one telling the story, the writer records an event he witnessed. Soviet Jews wished to celebrate on Simchas Torah and, of course, the police in Moscow declined their request.

A Jewish Federation president in a New England town somehow convinced the the local television station to film Jews freely celebrating Simchas Torah in the United States, even dancing in the streets, contrasted with their brethren behind the Iron Curtain.

There was one hiccup, the news division was booked solid the week of the yom tov and requested that they ‘stage’ this event instead, about two weeks before.

The Federation president quickly and enthusiastically calls the local conservative rabbi sharing with him this wonderful opportunity for exposure, and the ability to shine a light on what is going on in the Soviet Union for the average American gentile.

The rabbi, to his great credit, was aghast. Torah scrolls are not props! We do not take them out of the Ark unless there is a true need. Besides, he opined, this will not even have a marginal effect on the circumstances upon which we are seeking to shine a light!

He also, wisely, argued that far from a positive message to his congregants, this would send the wrong message to the young generation, “reinforcing their belief, already too strong, that TV was more powerful than anything else, including the ancient proprieties of the synagogue”.

Enter the ‘stress’ factor. The Federation head was none-to-pleased. He went behind the rabbi’s back and called the president of the synagogue. The next day the rabbi’s president called him into a meeting. “Listen, rabbi. I already called the young men of the shul and arranged for them to meet me with the Torah scrolls, all you have to do is show up.” He went on to say how awful it would look should the rabbi refuse to involve himself with a community project such as this, which was apparently happening with or without him.

The rabbi got the message, which could not have been made clearer: if you want to keep your job, you will show up to this staged event.

The story, and the article, ends with the sad yet perfectly expected result, encapsulating so much of what has happened to modern American Jewry:

“The rabbi showed up, and performed on cue for the cameras, capering about with a Torah scroll on the wrong night of the week. Several days later, on the real night of the holiday, he looked in vain around the synagogue for the young people; they were at home, waiting to catch a glimpse of themselves in five seconds of film on the local news.”

Are we impervious to these challenges? In talking with colleagues, we often discuss rabbinic battles lost, or those not waged. Their frustration, or ‘stress’, does not come from the battle itself –after all, if it was a halachik matter then they would speak to poskim before agreeing to acquiesce.

Rather, their frustration comes from the fact that not everyone is aware of the rabbi’s discomfort. By the next generation, or sooner, what was once a painful choice becomes status quo, and sometimes, virtuous. Some will point to the past and say, “It must be fine, even good, for Rabbi X allowed it!” The same applies to not only what the rabbi allowed, but with what he chose not to speak out against.

Stress, indeed.

In fact, this concern is alluded to in the words of the Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (1:11), “Chachamim Hizaharu Bidvareichem!” Be careful with your words – For you may be exiled to a place inhabited by evil waters; The disciples who come after you will then drink of these evil waters and be destroyed”

The rishonim understand this Mishneh to be referring to issuing rulings in either education, halacha or hashkafa. Upon hearing a ruling –sometimes necessary –that was designed for a particular group, others may soon assume that it is lichatchila.

While we are already ‘exiled’, we must be carful to bequeath to the next generation a lichatchila system, and by expressing clearly when a descion made was temporary in nature.

Former Chief Rabbi Lau in his brilliant six-volume work on pirkei avos brings a wonderful insight: The opening Mishanh teaches us that Moshe kebel Torah from Sinai. Moshe in turn transmitted it (mussar) to Yehoshua, and Yehoshua mussar to the Zekainim, etc.

There is difference between giving someone something (nossan) and lending someone something (mesira/pikadon). Moshe was given a gift from Hashem, a gift for all of Israel that he was to transmit.

But we do not own it.

It is given to each generation on loan (mussar). And like any pikadon, we can do with it as needed-within the confines of Halacha –but on one condition:  we must make sure that it is returned in the exact same state in which it was received.

This is no small challenge.