Tag: Alan Morinis

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Ethics General CCAR lifelong learning Rabbis Reform Judaism

Balancing Critique and Gratitude: Lessons from the Study of Mussar

Like many rabbis, I receive a weekly email from the remnants of the Alban Institute, a premier source of information and consulting on issues facing religious congregations. Last week, Alban’s missive offered best practices for embracing young adults in congregational life. The source? Union for Reform Judaism’s Communities of Practice.

Few among us would have imagined that our Movement might set the bar for young adult engagement in American religious life. Fewer still would suggest that URJ is the source of whatever successes Reform Judaism might be having in that regard. I wondered if we are so busy criticizing the Union, among all our Movement organizations, including our own congregations and ourselves, that we fail to recognize success.

I received that Alban email on the day I arrived at the annual Kallah of the Southwest Association of Reform Rabbis (SWARR). This year, SWARR was treated to learning from our Movement’s leaders, including a panel discussion with CCAR President Rabbi Denise Eger, URJ President Rabbi Rick Jacobs, and HUC-JIR Los Angeles Campus Dean Dr. Joshua Holo. Our leaders were asked about areas of cooperation and areas of difficulty between the organizations they lead. Rabbi Jacobs noted that his counterparts in other Jewish religious movements often marvel at the very fact that our congregational and rabbinic bodies and seminary talk to one another, meeting regularly. Apparently, we are somewhat unique in that regard. Dr. Holo told us that, to the best of his extensive knowledge, we are the only religious movement or denomination in the world that co-funds its congregational body and seminary.

I wondered: To what extent does the tochechah (critique), which many of us frequently direct at our Movement institutions obscure our capacity for hakarat ha tov, literally “recognizing the good,” or gratitude? Conversely, to what extent has our tochechah (justified, appropriately expressed critique) contributed to the success we might now celebrate?

From my study and practice of Mussar, as taught by Alan Morinis, I have learned to seek the “golden mean” in attempting to balance my middot (soul-traits) and behavior. In making my own cheshbon nefesh (accounting of my soul), I find that I have been out of balance, erring on the side of tochechah, criticizing our Movement institutions – URJ, above all – without sufficient hakarat ha-tov (gratitude) for their important contributions to my rabbinate and congregational life. Oh yes, I regularly express gratitude for two aspects of URJ that we all praise, i.e., camps and the Religious Action Center. Now, though, I’m aware that there’s much more to praise. To correct the imbalance, I need to go out of my way to practice hakarat ha-tov, expressing gratitude; and I need to still my tongue or my typing fingers when tempted to issue tochechah (critique).

I suspect that I’m not alone.

Rabbi Barry Block serves Congregation B’nai Israel in Little Rock, Arkansas.

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Ethics Rabbis Reform Judaism

Mussar for Rabbis: Order

Alan Morinis teaches that each נשמה (neshamah – soul) has its own “curriculum.” In other words, each of us is out of balance with respect to this or that מידה (middah – soul trait) in ways that are unique to us.

When we come to סדר (seder – order), one can be out of balance in either direction. As Morinis writes, “The soul-trait of order is all about the middle way. Too little order gives birth to chaos, while at the other end, too much order ties us up in obsessive rigidity” (“Everyday Holiness,” p. 87). Most of us have “order” on our “curriculum,” even as each person’s challenges may be so different from another’s as to be opposite.

For rabbis, these extremes can be particularly problematic.

The disorganized rabbi may be chronically late for appointments, fail to submit a signed marriage license, or even miss a life cycle ceremony commitment.

The rigid rabbi may burden others with unrealistic expectations of timeliness and precision. We could become such “yekkes” that we insist on starting a service on time, even if the bus with the family and out-of-town guests has broken down, causing distress to the very family we are ostensibly serving. Order is by definition obsessive if we are valuing precision over human beings.

Alan Morinis has also taught me that imbalance with one מידה (middah – soul trait) is often best addressed by emphasizing another. Awareness of a need to change, while essential, isn’t sufficient to bring about the improved behavior. For example, a person who is chronically disorganized may well be aware of that shortcoming. S/he may even say to him/herself: “I need to become better organized!” We often know such things about ourselves; but if change were so easy, we would simply change.

Let me offer examples of how imbalance on the מידה of סדר (the middah, soul trait, of seder, order) may be addressed by emphasis on another virtue altogether.

Perhaps the disorganized rabbi is nevertheless filled with זריזות (zerizut, enthusiasm) for a particular project. This rabbi will not make or keep a schedule for its own sake. S/he may typically be less than responsive to calls and emails. And yet, by summoning the passion s/he is devoting to the project at hand, perhaps the rabbi can summon a level of organization that doesn’t come naturally.

Are you that disorganized rabbi, whose passionately-pursued project is foundering? Perhaps you despair that you can suddenly become punctilious, even to accomplish a cherished goal. Try this method, adapted from Alan Morinis’ prescribed Mussar practice: Journal each evening about the project’s progress. Where is it succeeding, and where is it stalled? Who is questioning and criticizing you and what are their stated reasons for doing so? Even if your initial impulse is to ascribe those critiques to others’ impatience or lack of flexibility, try an experiment: Make a game out of just how timely and responsive you can be. Revel in the repentance of your erstwhile critics, and understand that their newfound partnership is a result of your סדר (seder), of your orderliness, however manufactured.

At the other end of the spectrum, the rigid rabbi may find relief in the מידה (middah, soul trait) of דן לכף זכות (dan l’chaf z’chut, benefit of the doubt). The hyper-organized may become frustrated when others don’t reply with our desired alacrity, constantly complaining that our colleagues or lay partners are poor at follow-through. Unable to imagine misplacing important papers, we may deem a less organized co-worker to be grossly irresponsible. We may not even believe that the bus with the out-of-town guests is lost, but rather assume that cousin Joe or Joanne was dawdling!

Soon, we start that service ruthlessly on time or pepper our partners with harassing emails. The disorganization of others is simply intolerable!

The ultra-organized person isn’t likely simply to accept that others’ standards of סדר (seder, order) are different and equally acceptable. Instead, we may work toward another solution. We may think twice about the motive (or lack of motivation) we ascribe to the less organized person. Make דן לכף זכותך
(dan l’chaf z’chut, benefit of the doubt) a “game.” Be imaginative! Work to make a list of all the possible good explanations for what you have regarded as disorganization. Perhaps the source of your frustration is absorbed in a critical project of which you’re unaware. Maybe he is stressed at home. Perhaps her computer crashed. Maybe the bus really is lost.

I close with a personal anecdote. I’m a pretty organized guy. All the same, from time to time, my office desk has become a disastrous mess. When that has occurred, I haven’t been able to summon סדר (seder, order) itself to clean my desk. I couldn’t convince myself to make order for its own sake. When I began studying and practicing Mussar, I considered what other מידה (middah, soul trait) could help me clean that desk. I identified כבוד (kavod, honor), and came to see that I was dishonoring the people who came to see me — in my case, to see “the rabbi” — indeed, that I was dishonoring the synagogue itself with that disgracefully messy desk. And so, I cleaned it.