Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
March 21, 2003
Why My Wife Makes Me Take Out the Garbage
Before I begin, let me ask you a question. I am aware that there are a several shelters in Tulsa for abused women. Does anyone know if there are any which are coed or egalitarian? If so, would you please see me after the service, because I may need one.
Those of you who come to Temple regularly know that I very seldom – if ever – complain about my wife. (I usually just suffer in silence!) But, tonight, I want to tell you something terrible that my wife did to me.
I hope that you still remember our first Cantorial Concert, December 1, 2001. Cantor Lefko put together a brilliant evening which culminated an entire weekend of festivities celebrating my 25th anniversary as your Rabbi. Friday night, our son Daniel spoke glowingly about his father, and there was a beautiful Oneg Shabbat in my honor. Saturday evening the Past Presidents of the Temple hosted a dinner at Gilcrease Museum – an intimate fest by some of the people with whom I had worked most closely for a quarter century. Sunday evening the weekend concluded with this spirited, talented collection of cantors and upbeat music which just warmed my heart. Our son, Aaron, spoke during the intermission – another beautiful tribute. I could not have imagined a more moving weekend. I felt truly honored and deeply blessed to be your Rabbi, and I felt appreciated, special. Frankly, I did not want the weekend to end.
As I recall, Ruth and her brothers took one car and headed home a little before Nancy and me. I think we had stayed to pack up the leftovers of a beautiful cake. As I drove into the driveway, Nancy turned to me and said “You need to take out the garbage.” Now here I was on cloud nine, having just been celebrated, feted, for three days as a VIP and not quite ready to return to earth, when my walking orders were clearly delineated – “take out the garbage.”
Nancy was re-enacting an incident which took place many, many years earlier. A student whom I greatly admired in seminary, Don Berlin, was ordained several years before me. Don was an outstanding student, President of the student body, destined – I knew – to become a superior rabbi. On Monday morning following ordination, I bumped into Don at school. I gave him a personal mazel tov and asked him what it had felt like. He told me how meaningful the ordination ceremony had been; his family had gathered from great distances and he was on top of the world. Then with a smile, he said that as they came home, his wife Norma said: “Don, take out the garbage.”
Nancy remembered that incident which I had shared with her. Incidently, I must tell you that both Len Morton and I have always taken out the garbage in our families. When I read this week’s Torah portion, I feel better about our situation. Let me explain, and then I want to share some bad news from England which I want to warn you about.
Our Sedra begins with a very strange rule. It says that the kohen, the priest who prepared the daily offering, before he began the morning sacrifice, he had to carry out the ashes which were left over from yesterday’s sacrifices. Why should the kohen, a very dignified person who wore special vestments, why should he be the one who had to carry out the ashes? Weren’t there Levites around who could do it? Weren’t there apprentice kohanim around who could do it? Why should the kohen who officiated at the morning service be the one who had to carry out the greasy ashes and then come back into the Mishkan and put on his robes all over again?
The commentators give a number of different answers. I share only one with you tonight. The reason the kohen had to do the scut work was because – how can you represent the people in prayer if you do not share their ordinary experiences? If you are shielded from all the duties and all the tasks of ordinary life, then how can you understand what the people who go through these things feel and need?
I am sure that is what Nancy had in mind when she made me carry out the garbage at the end of my 25th anniversary weekend. She did not want me to become so swell-headed, so puffed up with pride, as to be cut off from the lives of other people so that I could not identify with them or teach them or pray for them. Therefore, she made me carry out the garbage – not so the garbage would get out to the cans, but for my own spiritual health. Thank you, dear!
Now there is some real validity to this theory. You remember some years ago when President Bush (the father) was running for re-election. Sam Donaldson asked him an embarrassing question. He asked: “Do you know how much a half-gallon of milk costs in the supermarket? And, do you know how much a loaf of bread costs?”
President Bush fumphed. He tried to change the subject because the truth was that he did not know. A President never goes to the store himself; if he wants something to eat, he sends someone to pick it up for him. And so President Bush had no idea what a half-gallon of milk or a loaf of bread cost.
When that story aired, many people wondered how can I vote for someone who is so far removed from the world in which I live that he does not even know what it is like to go the supermarket to buy something? Maybe that is why the kohen had to carry out the ashes, so that he would identify with and understand what it is like for all those people in the community who have to do work like this every day of their lives. That is why I think the kohen of old had to carry out the ashes, and that is why I think my wife makes me carry out the garbage – at least twice a week.
Now comes the bad news. There was a story in the paper a few years ago which worries me. It said that Prince William, who is going to be the future King of England, received a special gift from his father, Prince Charles, for his 13th birthday. Do you remember what his Dad gave him? He gave him a personal valet.
When I read that story I began to worry because I was sure that if Prince William got a personal valet, the idea would spread and eventually cross the Atlantic. I could just hear the parents of the B’nai Mitzvah in Scarsdale or in Beverly Hills, in Boca Raton and finally in Tulsa, Oklahoma – saying to themselves “Last year I gave Tiffany a ten-speed bike and the year before I got her a computer. What am I going to get her for her Bat Mitzvah? Oh, I know – I’ll get her a personal valet.”
Let me suggest that if there is anyone here today who has a Bar or Bat Mitzvah coming up in the family and who has not yet decided what gift to give the child in honor of the event, in my humble opinion, a personal valet is not a good idea. Even though Prince Charles gave one to Prince William, I do not recommend it, because I believe that it is not good for anyone to be deprived of the responsibility of doing the chores of life.
It is not healthy for parents to give up telling their children the four most popular words that parents have been telling their children for generations. Ever since the days of Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel – it has been the same four words: “Clean up your room!” Now if a kid has a personal valet, you won’t be able to tell him to clean up his room anymore and that, I believe, would be a great loss. A child who does not have to clean up his room, a child who has someone else who does it for him has been infantalized.
You know the old joke about the woman who is sitting in the back of her limousine with her two-year old child and someone says to her: “What a lovely child; does he walk yet?” And she says: “My child doesn’t have to.”
There is an equally disturbing scenario developing at the other end of the life-cycle. I was reading recently about some of the rules in certain senior citizen residences. There is a rule in some that residents are not allowed to clean up their own rooms; only the staff is permitted to do it. Now, as you can imagine, these rules are set by the insurance industry. The insurance company might be liable if someone fell while mopping the floors or doing the sink, so the people who live in these residences are not allowed to do any of the maintenance – which I think also infantalizes them. What dignity does a person have when they are not allowed to even clean up their room?
I must tell you that in Israel it is different. If you live on a kibbutz and you are 90 years old and you want to work, you are allowed to. You may only work ten minutes a day, you may only file papers in the office – but whatever you want to do for the benefit of the community, you are allowed to do because, if you don’t do anything, then who are you? If you are only waited on, if you are only cared for and you give nothing back to the community, how can you feel worthwhile?
I think we can learn something from The Church of the Latter Day Saints. Whenever this denomination builds a new church, they have two rules. One is they build without a mortgage. Either the people want the church badly enough to raise the money for it, or else they do not deserve to have a new church building.
The second rule is that the church must be built by the membership. Yes, they will hire an architect and a few professionals who have special skills but, otherwise, the construction has to be done by the members themselves.
Now can you imagine how much pride the members of a new Latter Day Saints church have when they show their church to their children or their grandchildren? They say “you see that brick? I put it there. See that nail? I hammered it in.” They have a sense that the church really belongs to them, because they gave not only their money, but their time, sweat and skill to put it up.
So I have a fantasy about Temple membership. What would it be like if when a prospective member came to apply we said to him/her/them, we’re delighted that you want to join, and we’re pleased that you understand your obligation to pay dues and to make your donation to the Building Fund. But in addition, all of our members here are expected to work for 18 hours a year for the Temple. It does not have to be manual labor; it might be answering the telephone or getting the bulletin ready for mailing or helping us in the library or reading to preschoolers or tutoring a Religious School student – whatever needs to be done. It may be helping Walter set up or tear down for an event. I have a hunch that if we established that kind of rule, we would probably take in just as many new members as we now do, but we might have much more involved members.
One final thought. There is no Mishkan anymore and no Temple in Jerusalem. The closest we approximate those institutions in Jewish life today is the Passover seder which will be here in just three-and-a-half weeks. There on the seder plate will be the shank bone of the roasted lamb, an echo of the Passover sacrifice that was offered in the Temple in days of old. Next to it will be the roasted egg, which represents the holiday sacrifice which was once offered by the kohanim in the days when the Temple still stood.
May I make a suggestion to those who are present here this Shabbat. If you are hosting a seder at your home this year – do not do it all yourself. Make sure that each and every member of your family and each and every guest at the seder does some of the work of preparing it. Do not say, “they have come so far, let them just relax, I will do it myself.” Do not say, “the kids work hard in school, let them alone, I will do it.” Do not say, “my husband is so busy I do not want to bother him, I will do it all myself.”
Instead give each participant in the seder some work to do, because only if they do some of the work of preparing the seder, will they have a sense of identification with it and feel a sense of pride and achievement in it when it is completed. If they only sit and watch while you do all the work, it will be your seder, not theirs – and you will be too exhausted to enjoy it when you finally sit at the seder, and they will not feel that they are partners in it.
Therefore, just as the kohen had to take the ashes out every day in order that he might understand and identify with how the rest of the world lived and worked, so too will your family. Just as my wife makes me take out the garbage even after a beautiful testimonial weekend so that I do not have any delusions of grandeur and fall victim to believing all the nice things that were said about me. Just as no child should have a personal valet, because if he does, he will be severely handicapped in learning how to be a grown-up. So in the same way may I suggest to all who are present here tonight that you let your family members – spouse, children – AND all the guests do some of the hard work which is involved in making Pesach so that you may have freedom and they may reenact what the kohanim did on Pesach in the days of old. And if you do friends, it will be a good yontif for you, for them and for the household of Israel. Amen
This message is based on the creative efforts of Rabbi Jack Riemer, whose sermonic genius I am happy to acknowledge.
