Sometimes, it doesn’t take much to remind me why I want to leave my current congregation. The primary reason, of course, is that I need a stable Jewish school for my daughter as she enters the Bat Mitzvah track. But there’s also the issue of respect and belonging.
The current leaders (and the ones continuing into next year) like to talk about the strengths of a small congregation, and this one in particular. They like to emphasize the warmth and friendliness of its people, and how they value the contributions of everyone. It’s a facade.
Last year, when I began my term as Religious Practices chair, they had a ceremony honoring the outgoing chairs. They talked on and on how the chair from 2002-2003 did so much for the congregation. They went on to list other past RP chairs, either by accident or intent, leaving out my wife, who was RP chair for 2001-2002. When I pointed this out to them, they belatedly apologized—to me in private, but not in public.
As you know, I’m finishing up my term as RP chair. It officially ends June 30; my last board meeting is tonight. They have already started not even inviting or informing me of Executive Board planning meetings. Last night, I received a message indicating they had decided to cancel the upcoming Tisha B’Av observance, after they concluded that other Reform congregations don’t observe the holy day, and that only 6/7 people would attend. They noted the original decision “was made by an outgoing
committee
that included the Rabbi, and that she is in favor of the service”. When I pointed out for clarification that the Rabbi hadn’t been involved with the decision to have the observance, the response I received was “Whatever”.
There is such an undercurrent of animosity to those that had supported the outgoing Rabbi and tried to recover the congregation. I thought it had gone away over the past year, but it is resurfacing again. The new leaders are folks that have not demonstrated a large knowledge of Jewish practice and tradition; to them, it appears that modern Reform Judaism is too Jewish. They have a group they like; if you are not in that group, it is as if you are persona non grata. And these are the people that will be in charge next year.
What they are forgetting is that volunteers need respect, and people remember how they are treated. When you are a small congregation, you can’t afford to write people off or treat them badly, even if you know they are going to another congregation. Because you never know: they may still stay involved, they might still contribute out of fond memories, they may return if they don’t like where they are going. If you piss them off, you are burning a bridge that can never be repaired. I’ve seen that once trust is destroyed, it never comes back and the relationship is never the same. I’m not sure those in charge understand this lesson.
When I was working on the marketing plan for this congregation, one question we explored is why it wasn’t growing. We wondered if the community “buzz” was what was killing it. Those in leadership thought the buzz was wrong; we really were warm and friendly. Now, I think I’m learning why the buzz is out there, and it doesn’t bode well for its survival.
Perhaps those in leadership can learn. I hope so. In the musical Rent, there’s a wonderful line, which I’m probably misquoting, that the opposite of love isn’t hate—it’s indifference. I don’t care about this congregation anymore. I feel sad about that, but I need to be in a congregation that I care about, and that I believe cares about me.
