A common cause of unhappiness in interpersonal relations is unrealistic expectations. This is also true in relationships between communities and their rabbis. A recent advertisement for an Orthodox rabbinic position – obviously only men need apply – in a European capital provides a telling illustration.
According to the lengthy job description, the successful candidate will not only lead services, preside at life-cycle events, teach, counsel and engage in community-building. In addition to his priestly role, he must also be a “visionary leader…able to actively engage more people in the Orthodox way of living and facilitate bringing people back to Judaism.”
His many pastoral duties range from “visiting the sick and elderly” to “attending (and initiating) social activities.”
Beyond rabbinic ordination, the incumbent is to have engaged in advanced Torah studies and have a solid secular education.
The job description also states that he should have “an Orthodox and traditional family upbringing.” It’s apparently not enough for him to have embraced Orthodoxy later in life. The good rabbi should be frum from birth.
The skills required include the ability to teach, speak in public, be media savvy and have “general knowledge that can be connected to Jewish subjects.” Psychology and history are mentioned specifically.
The successful applicant must be mature and have a “high level of integrity.” He should be “comfortable with himself” and know how to “resolve conflicts in a positive and constructive fashion.” He must have an “open disposition,” be “flexible, diplomatic, patient” and skilled in creating “win-win situations.” Most rabbis I know, myself included, are neurotic. They needn’t apply.
Though the rabbi is to represent the community to the outside world, he’s not allowed to say what he thinks: “The rabbi’s freedom of speech is circumscribed.” Because the community isn’t only Orthodox, when the new incumbent “takes a position in controversial issues, the other denominations’ opinions must be presented.”
One enigmatic statement in the job description is that “the rabbi is obligated to inform the board about possible religious convictions that deviate from the Orthodox norms.” It’s not clear whether periodically the rabbi must go to confession before lay leaders or to report on the deviant thoughts and practices of others.
The city is said to have more than 10,000 Jews, but even on High Holidays less than 2,000 attend services. The job description implies it. Because “the number of members is decreasing,” the candidate is challenged to “attract more members to the community.” It’s up to him to increase attendance by being relevant and able to “address the needs of young people and others who currently do not always attend synagogue regularly.” Obviously if Jews don’t come to shul, it’s the rabbi’s fault.
And if all that wasn’t enough, there’s this: “The rabbi is expected to have an open home and invite people for Shabbat and other holidays.” It’s not specified who will do the cooking.
The full text of the ad and others like it should be studied in every rabbinic school and in every synagogue as an indicator of why the relationship between rabbis, cantors and teachers on the one hand and lay leaders on the other is often so problematic. Though the wording of this particular text may be idiosyncratic, the expectations it lists are, alas, not uncommon.
It’s significant that nothing is said about what the rabbi can expect from the congregation, not only in terms of remuneration but, more important, in terms of working conditions and lay support for his efforts.
The synagogue remains the central institution of Diaspora Jewry. Unless we have realistic expectations of those who lead us and whom we view as role models, the outcome is likely to be miserable.
Unless shul members are prepared to share the responsibility for Jewish life rather than entrust it to professionals with imaginary superhuman qualities, continued erosion from within may turn out to constitute a much greater danger than the anti-Semitism from without.
