Comments (1)Not In Shul
October 9, 2009Phil Jacobs
Executive Editor
An acquaintance was an educator, the administrator of a Torah-based school.
He loved to pray, his tefilah; but the last place he loved to make “contact” with God was in the synagogue.
Parents of children in his school would wait for him sometimes outside of the shul. Many days, he wouldn’t make it inside because on Shabbat those parents wanted to know why their child was placed in a certain class, or left off the honor roll, or a certain teacher should be fired, and so on and so on.
It didn’t end there.
I sometimes could look for the educator in synagogue and see that people were talking to him about such matters even during services. Usually it was a one-way conversation; he just listened.
When I asked him about it, he said that the parents regrettably would sometimes interject their feelings while he prayed the Amidah.
Now he doesn’t show up to shul much. Why should he?
In the quiet of his dining room, looking east into the trees, he can see God’s beautiful handiwork without the distraction.
As ridiculous as it sounds, sometimes the minyan has to be replaced by the blue jays, cardinals, rabbits and deer — God’s handiwork instead of human insensitivities.
When he’s been away from synagogue for several weeks, maybe even months, he’ll venture back. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long before he is reminded of why he left in the first place.
One misplaced comment is a trigger for a person who can’t even hide under their tallis without worrying that the next person he meets has an agenda more than “Good Shabbos.”
Why should this be?
When he sees a plumber in shul, he doesn’t walk up to him and say, “My toilet isn’t flushing again after you repaired it. I demand my money back. Now let’s say the Shema together.”
One friend, a social worker, has her share of stories of those who interrupt her on Shabbos because they need a problem solved right there, right then.
Maybe there are some situations that need such immediate attention, perhaps those that involve a timely medical emergency.
Why is it that these folks, who have telephones and e-mail addresses, all report the same bottom line? They rarely hear from these very same people Sunday through Friday. Instead, it comes down to an intrusive, sometimes confrontational meeting in the middle of a religious service.
Wait.
Just wait.
Before you go on the offensive, ask if it can really wait until Shabbat or Yom Tov is over. Let’s not forget that your doctor, your social worker, your kid’s teacher, are all entitled to the same opportunity of spiritual uplift and prayer to which you are entitled.
They should have a thicker skin, you say? No, a shul where one is connecting to HaShem is one place where one should be able to leave his or her “thick skin” at home.
Don’t take them out of the spirit of prayer by bringing up your child’s classroom placement or the pain you are still experiencing in your molars.
Think of it this way. For our professionals to elevate their abilities, it might take a day such as Shabbat, an experience of connecting with God, to help them achieve clarity and be better professionals. Everyone is better off this way.
Our jobs are not the focus of our identities within the walls of a synagogue. Our prayers are the focus. Our volunteerism in the community, our tzedakah, all of these are the focus.
With that comes the focus of our joys and, sometimes, our sadness with the support of the kehillah or congregation we choose. But if it becomes yet another arena triggering our own professional challenges, self-doubt and “to do” list, it doesn’t work. Shabbat, or any time in the synagogue, isn’t the time we should be thinking about that big meeting we have scheduled for Monday or, worse yet, reminders of that work we just didn’t get done.
If it’s so important, it will be valid once Shabbat is over.
Let the educator come to shul.
He’ll serve our children better with a clear head and heart.