Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
Mollie Feldman Bat Mitzvah
June 15, 2002
Five Commandments for Healthy Temple Life
As we listened to Mollie, we heard the story of Korach and his band of malicious malcontents. These men attempt to unseat Moses and Aaron for their own selfish reasons. Worst of all, they do so by donning a mantle of self-righteous indignation. Korach enlists the sympathy of the people by arguing for democratic representation. He tells Moses and Aaron, "You take too much upon yourselves seeing that the entire community is holy, every one of them, and God is among them. Why then do you lift yourselves above the assembly of the Eternal."
Who can argue with such logic? Furthermore, Moses and Aaron are mortal, imperfect. When we Moses’ leadership record, we recognize that he was temperamental. He smashed God’s tablets with the Ten Commandments written on them. Against God’s implicit instructions, he struck the rock instead of speaking to it. He called his people stubborn, stiff necked, disobedient, unappreciative, sinful. Moses also did not provide an example of solid values in his own personal life. His wife is seldom heard from; his children are almost never mentioned and do not carry on their father’s leadership.
Furthermore, we know that Aaron helped the people build a golden calf. What kind of spiritual support was he when things grew shaky in the wilderness? What kind of devotee of monotheism did he turn out to be? Aaron was unable to restrain the anxious people who wanted to bow down before an idol while Moses was up on the mountain speaking with God? So maybe Korach had a right to gripe. What kind of leaders were Moses and Aaron anyway?
And yet, beneath the surface of Korach’s claim to be a democrat, a man of the people, a defender of the rights and privileges of the common folk, there are less savory motives. Korach is really greedy and jealous of his cousins, Moses and Aaron. He is motivated not by idealistic concerns for his community, but by the desire for power, self-aggrandizement. He is envious of the roles Moses and Aaron play, and he is motivated by undisguised, raw political ambition.
Let me tell you a story in Jewish life about a maggid, an itinerant rabbi who traveled from community to community preaching. There was a big problem, however -- this rabbi had only one sermon, and it was on the sedra Korach, this week’s Torah portion. Now, mind you, it was a very good sermon, but what was the maggid to do the rest of the year, when Korach was not the weekly Torah portion?
The maggid came up with a simple solution. When it was time to begin his sermon, the rabbi would say: "My fellow Jews, as I was davening with you this morning, I could not help but notice that there was controversy swirling about, even here, in the inspirational atmosphere of your sanctuary. This being so, let me dispense with my sermon based on the weekly Torah portion in order to deal with the topic of controversy, as reflected in the personality of Korach." He never failed. No matter where the maggid went, his introductory remarks applied. He just couldn’t visit a community more than once.
It is a sad truth of synagogue life. Too often controversy, rather than harmony, rules the domain of the synagogue. People show up at synagogue board meetings with their own personal agendas and their own baggage. Rather than promote holiness, synagogues are often dens of pettiness. And, one is more likely to hear lashon hara, gossip, rather than divrei Torah, words of Torah, within its halls.
I want to tell you with confidence and pride, that the maggid could not have delivered his sermon at Temple Israel in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Think about what we have done in the past month: we have elected three new officers of the Temple and have passed the gavel to a new president of the congregation, of the Brotherhood and the Sisterhood. We have 12 brand-new trustees; a third of the board has turned over. But there has been no revolution, no putting down of former administrations, no wholesale housecleaning of committees. A peaceful transition has taken place in our congregation, and this morning I would like to tell you why I think this is so and provide five commandments for Temple life which we must continue to observe in order to merit exception to the maggid’s rule.
Number one. When we come into the Temple, no matter why we come here, let’s remember the words of our sages, which are emblazoned in many sanctuaries right above the ark. Da lifnei mi ata omed – know before whom you are standing. These words apply not only to the sanctuary, but to the board room, the classroom and even the bathroom. Each of us is created in the image of God and, when we insult another human being, we disparage the sacred image of God.
Two. In the Temple, as at home, we ought to live by the dictum of Rabbi Shammai. Emor m’at v’aseh harbay -- say little and do much. In many synagogues there is too much talking and too little doing. As I often tell brides and grooms when I counsel with them before a wedding, God gave us two ears and only one mouth so that we would listen twice as much as we talk. When I think about it, maybe there is another reason for this anatomical fact. We have two ears and only one mouth so that we can hear many points of view, but we can be consistent in what we say.
Let’s make an effort to listen to our fellow members of the Temple Family. Let’s be sure we hear what is on their minds and hearts so that we can respond directly, kindly, sensitively. Too many misunderstandings are caused by inaccurate, incomplete, insensitive listening. Two ears, one tongue -- let’s listen twice as much as we talk.
The third commandment of Temple life is hakarat hataov. It means literally "recognizing the good, the tov, in others." Let’s presume the best about each other and take the time to compliment one another. Nobody comes to the Temple to be put down or insulted. Yes, of course there are times when caring, constructive criticism is called for, but it always must be offered with love.
We can all learn from the example of Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev who is known as the righteous intercessor. Rabbi Levi always saw some good in his fellow Jews. He would compliment them and frame their actions in a positive way. There is always something good to say about people. And, of course, there is the old advice which my mother, of blessed memory, drummed into my brother and me -- if you do not have something nice to say, do not say anything at all.
Commandment four -- Temples are for Jewish activities. They are places for studying and learning about our way of life. They are centers for worshiping God and celebrating Shabbat and holidays, and life-cycle milestones. Temples are for promoting tikkun olam -- repairing the world -- through righteous acts.
The corollary to this commandment is: fundraising is not a Jewish activity, attending board and committee meetings is not necessarily a Jewish activity. They are necessary for the governance of the Temple, for the administration of the Temple, for the nuts and bolts which hold a Temple together -- but they are not necessary for our souls. So before you attend another meeting or raise another dollar, I’d like to ask you to do something Jewish here at the Temple and encourage someone else to do something Jewish. If you do, the rest will take care of itself.
And let me be even clearer. Temple leaders cannot come here simply for committee and board meetings. They have to be here for worship and study or they cannot lead. Thank God, over the years, our Temple leadership has recognized that fact of life and responded to it.
Commandment number five. If you choose to become a leader in a Temple, remember that you are first and foremost a servant. Leave your personal agenda at home, do not come here expecting kavod, honor; that is not what it is all about. Remember the teaching of Antichonus of Socho. Do not be like servants who serve their master expecting to receive a reward; be rather like servants who serve their master unconditionally, with no thought of reward. Also, let the fear, or awe, of God determine your actions.
Friends, I have been a rabbi for one-third of a century now. Last Shabbas I marked the 33rd anniversary of my ordination. I have worked with all kinds of congregants, and I can tell you that there is a little bit of Korach in all of us. He is overly ambitious, hungry for recognition, willing to do anything to promote his own self-interest and, worst of all, he is not a bit reflective. He never stops to ask himself what is motivating his reaction to others. Let’s guard against these Korach-like temptations.
There will be times when disagreements are necessary and even constructive. L’shaym Shamayim, for the sake of discerning the true will of God before whom we all stand and in whose image we all are. We can learn a great deal from one another, but we must be willing to listen. We must remember that temples ought to lift us up and not tear us down. We have to look for the good in each other. We must keep before us the purpose of the Temple as a place to do Jewish, and we must recognize that to serve is a privilege and that we serve God best when we recognize the sacred in all of God’s creations.
I sincerely believe that unless that ancient maggid would happen to come to Temple Israel on Shabbat Korach itself, otherwise he could take a week off. Thank God for that fact. Let’s keep it that way. Amen
I learned much of this message from the writings of Rabbi Mark B. Greenspan, whose inspiration I gladly acknowledge.
