Here's What Makes an Amazing Jewish Leader

This day, as a new crop of Reform Jewish clergy was ordained as rabbis and cantors, seems a most fitting time to publish thoughts about two of my own beloved Jewish teachers and leaders. I was honored to speak about each one recently -- although these words hardly begin to scratch the surface of my admiration, respect, and esteem for them.

On Saturday, April 6, I introduced Rabbi Eric Yoffie, president emeritus of the Union for Reform Judaism, who was this year's Diana S. Herman Memorial Scholar-in-Residence at Temple Emanu-El in Edison, NJ. Here's what I said that afternoon:

Rabbi Eric Yoffie’s website describes him as “a bold, inspiring, and passionate speaker on Israel, interfaith dialogue, church-state issues, and American religious life.”

Wikipedia and the URJ’s website can fill you in on his educational background and the worship initiatives, social justice priorities, and other programs he championed during his 16-year tenure as president of the Union for Reform Judaism. 

And that is all useful and important information.  

But, I want to tell you briefly about the Eric Yoffie I know – the one who holds a special place in my heart.  

The one who quietly thinks things through, turning them over and over in his mind, carefully  examining every possible angle. 

The one who states his positions unflinchingly and with bold, concise eloquence – never backing down, no matter how fierce the opposition. 

The one who was never too busy to answer my Jewish questions, teach a bit of Torah, ask after my family, or where I would be for seder. 

The one who, running into my mom in a crowded elevator at her first URJ board meeting, didn’t miss a beat in wishing her a mazel tov on her newly minted graduate degree – and never ignored a chance to thank her and my dad for “sharing Jane with us.” 

The one who cares deeply about his own family, his friends, and, in his role as a Jewish leader, the people who worked with him and for him. 

The Eric Yoffie I know is a mensch– humble, genuine, full of integrity, with a well-calibrated moral compass that always points north. 

I’m incredibly proud and honored to have this Eric Yoffie in my world and to welcome him to Temple Emanu-El as the Diana S. Herman Memorial Scholar-in-Residence.

Earlier today, at a brunch honoring Lafayette College history professor and Hillel advisor Bob Weiner as he prepares to retire at the end of this year after 50 (yes, 50!) years  on the faculty, I had the pleasure of sharing these reminiscences:

I must have met Bob Weiner early in the fall semester in 1981. I lived in Ruef, and was just learning about pub night, “spinning disks,” and the fact that a roasted tomato sprinkled with parmesan breadcrumbs was the only vegetarian option in Marquis. 

Overwhelmed by the newness of it all, I yearned for something familiar, a pacing or rhythm I knew, something that felt a little like home. That yen landed me in Hoag Hall late on a Friday afternoon for Shabbat services. That’s where I first met Bob – 

Bob, who, over time, recognized and nurtured a spark of leadership potential that gave me enough confidence to join the Hillel board and work my way through the ranks, ultimately serving as president and organizing a Passover meal plan in the original Hillel House on McCartney Street.

Bob, who helped me design a Jewish studies minor – an offering that didn’t exist at Lafayette at the time. That cluster of courses led me to the Jewish non-profit sector, where I have spent the majority of my career. (And I’m not the only one. Following the synagogue shootings in Pittsburgh last fall, I reached out to Brian Schreiber, a fellow alum,….you know, that tall, lanky guy with the wide grin? He’s the executive director of Pittsburgh’s JCC and as he wrote to me at the time, “Bob was really the catalyst for my journey into Jewish communal life.”)

Bob, whose family has always been an integral part of his life at Lafayette. I first met Mark, his eldest son, when, as a high school senior, he and one of his classmates became my classmates when they came to campus to study in a first-year Hebrew course taught by Professor Marblestone, z’l. And, Sandy? In my mind’s eye, she’s always there – with a smile, a hug, and a kind word. And if she’s not, no doubt she’s tootling around the Lehigh Valley in her pink Mary Kay Cadillac!

Bob, who, together with Sandy, of course, (and I think I’m remembering this detail correctly) trekked to New Jersey for a sukkah party at my parents’ house, when I was living there following graduation. As Bob told me at the time, but for the fact that the Weiners lived in the Lehigh Valley and the Hermans lived in central New Jersey, he was sure the two couples would have been the best of friends.

Bob, who a few years later (and again with Sandy), attended my wedding and when the marriage dissolved,was still there with comforting words that validated the truly life-changing decision I had made.

Bob, who more recently invited me back to campus to speak at Hillel about working in the Reform Jewish world. Somewhere along the way, though, that plan got nixed in favor of a talk to a wider audience about hereditary cancer genetic mutations and my experience as a BRCA mutation carrier.

Bob, who is humble, genuine, full of integrity, caring, menschlich, and what my grandmother would call a gutte neshuma.

Bob, you and Sandy hold a special place in my Lafayette memories and in my heart. As you set off down this new path, my dad, my sister, and I wish you abundant joy, laughter, love, and all good things. Godspeed, my friend.

I am blessed to have these two Jewish leaders in my orbit, and I was grateful for the opportunity to share with others the reasons each one holds a special place in my heart.

#BlogElul: Remember

Tonight I was blessed to sit among friends of longstanding and reminisce.

Just being together, we remembered so much: laughter, camaraderie, teamwork, mishaps, escapades, challenges, hotels, idiosyncrasies, long hours, short fuses, dinners, lunches, meetings, back offices, pipe and drape, spreadsheets, coffee (and stiffer drinks)… The list is endless.

Most of all, we remembered how lucky we were to come together with each other and other good people to do meaningful, successful work in the world.

May the new year bring each of us that same kind of luck and companionship, and years from now, may we look back on those days that are yet to be, remembering them -- and each other -- with as much fondness, warmth, gusto, and love as we did tonight.

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this #BlogElul post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precedes the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serves as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

That Time When Uncle Irv Came to Torah Study

I think it might have been the ripe, red strawberries on Cantor Dubinsky's milestone birthday cake that brought Uncle Irv to Torah study last Shabbat.

During minyan, she'd chanted from Kedoshim, beginning with verse 23:

When you enter the land and plant any tree for food, you shall regard its fruit as forbidden. Three years it shall be forbidden for you, not to be eaten. In the fourth year all its fruit shall be set aside for jubilation before the Eternal; and only in the fifth  year may you use its fruit -- that its yield to you may be increased. I the Eternal am your God.

After we'd all enjoyed the cake and the celebration, our Torah study conversation started with a discussion of trees and fruit -- and the difference between letting ripe fruit drop to the ground versus not letting it grow in the first place. All of a sudden, it was as though Uncle Irv was sitting next to me in that already crowded classroom. I remembered the bed of strawberries Amy and I planted and watered under his firm tutelage -- with a row of alternating marigolds and bachelor buttons in front, one way organic gardeners keep the bunnies away.

How excited we were when green shoots, followed by vines and then small white flowers finally appeared. And, oh how disappointed when he instructed us to nip off every last one of the delicate, yellow-centered flowers.

"Why??" we whined, less than thrilled by the whole gardening thing he was trying to teach us. According to Uncle Irv, it would ensure a bountiful crop of sweet berries in a few years.

Who knew we were learning Torah right there in the backyard?

#BlogElul: Remembering

As a wrote for last year's #BlogElul "Remember" prompt, we Jews are a remembering people. Among other events and people, we regularly remember Shabbat, the Exodus, what the Amalekites did to us, the victims of the Holocaust, and Israel's soldiers who died in battle.  

Within our own families, we remember our loved ones each year on their yahrzeits and at this season of return. For me, the "remembering list" includes a number of people I knew personally -- my grandparents, two of my grandmother's sisters, two of my grandfather's brothers, cousins of my parents, family friends and, of course, my mom.  It also includes individuals who, in one way or another, have, more recently, come into my circle of remembering, but whom I did not know personally: Chaim Glasberg, Tante Mina, and saddest of all, a friend's son, Sam.  

In the new year, even as sweet memories help to sustain us following loss -- whether recent or not -- may we, our loved ones, and our friends know no more sorrow.

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this #BlogElul post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precedes the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serves as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.