A reflection

    I haven't written on this blog for 5 years.   The five-year anniversary of leaving Dover, NH, and the 10-year anniversary of leaving Topeka, KS are both coming up in the next few months. Around this time during each of those years I was either looking for a new position or already signed on for a new position and making arrangements for the upcoming transition.
    The challenges have been pretty overwhelming.  There were aspects of the last year in Topeka that went well beyond anything that had come before, and it seemed that, after 22 years, it was time to leave and do some "wing-spreading" to establish myself in a new community.    As much as I was told that no one was pushing me out, the pressures and dissatisfaction coming from just a few people seemed to go well beyond previous disagreements or conflict.  Some of the basic approaches of my rabbinate were being challenged, and I wanted to be somewhere where that wouldn't happen and where I could again establish a productive partnership with both lay leadership and members.
    That was what I had hoped to do.   The path of the last 10 years has featured more of the same.   I have learned to stand up for myself more than I ever did before, but finding the productive partnership for which I hoped has only happened intermittently.   I remember that Rabbi Edwin Friedman, in his book GENERATION TO GENERATION, wrote that a long equilibrium in a congregation will be met with an unexpected jolt of some type that will shock rabbi and congregation out of their complacency and require action.    I am not sure if it is my own perspective, or reality, that have made it seem like equilibrium doesn't last more than a week or two.  Expectations have changed.   Mutual respect is harder to come by.   As much as some individuals may have always seen their volunteer service as a way to wield authority or power, it feels like it happens more and more with each passing year.   It makes the position of rabbi or any clergy person harder to enjoy, and it makes congregational life much less of a refuge than it should be.  
     Yes, I do remember vividly the conflicts of which my parents spoke in the congregations in which they were involved and in which they participated often and with devotion, often without much reward.  By the time they were both in their 80s, they were still serving in a significant way, whether it was my father creating a Brotherhood/Sisterhood page for the Temple bulletin or my mother serving as Sisterhood president for four years when she was in her late 70s and early 80s.
      I wonder if my choice to serve smaller congregations was the right one, because the comfort for which I had hoped at the beginning of my rabbinate has never really materialized.   Life has been, and still is, a struggle, in terms of finances, in terms of really feeling a sense of stability, and in terms of being a part of a community that really lives values like compassion, cooperation, and caring and fostering a welcoming and warm ambience.    
     I appreciate the support of immediate family (Rhonda and Adam, and now Juli) and other extended family and, even with the challenges that still emerge, there are friendships and positive ties we have picked up along the way.   Some memorable moments would not have happened had we not moved around just a bit.  
      I appreciate those who have encouraged me being me, especially in my music.  The recognition and affirmation does come here and there.  The trick is sustain the desire to create even when the affirmation is not forthcoming.    I am trying.
       As much as I have been able to recreate some of my community involvement in each place, there aspects of that participation for which I now have no real outlet.    Real interfaith ties have always been important to me.   I am trying, and even if it is just with a few individuals, I hope that will materialize.   A group doesn't have to be large to bring fulfillment.
      I suppose that life never really turns out like one might expect.    I am trying to stay on top of everything as much as I can, but I know I can't do it alone.
     When I was diagnosed with high blood pressure in 1978, my dormitory and the dean's office told me I was going to need to leave and find an apartment.    The doctor at the university health service who was treating me was impatient and unsupportive for a time.   I told my parents about how despondent I was about this new reality of my life, and that I didn't know what to do.  My dad told his son, the rabbinic student, "Well, you can pray."  
      So why didn't I think of that????
     Still a favorite quote from the prayerbook comes to mind to end this reflection....
Prayer invites God to let the Divine presence suffuse our spirits, to let God's will prevail in our lives.  Prayer cannot bring water to parched fields, nor mend a broken bridge, nor rebuild a ruined city; but prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart, and rebuild a weakened will.  
(Gates of Prayer, CCAR, 1975, page 152).