norfolk_stories (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} norfolk_stories) wrote,@ 2007-10-29 16:25:00 |
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Careful what you wish for...
"I'd like to be President of the Shull... if only so my name will be on that list."
My father, halfway into his battle with cancer, made that remark flippantly to a friend of his. He probably wasn't even sure if he meant it or not, but he knew that Bnai Israel was important to him. The shull and its Rabbi had done so much for him and been such a source of inspiration, that he felt closely tied to it. He was already on the executive board, and enjoyed speaking with the other board members about the nuts and bolts of running the Shull. He was capable of being president. He just hadn't really thought about running.
That friend took it seriously, though. He went straight to Rabbi Friedman. They discussed it, and asked my father to accept a nomination for President at the upcoming election. My Dad needed to think it over. He needed expert consultation. He needed advice from the one person he could really trust. So, of course he called me. (That's probably not true. He probably talked to Mom first, but I like to feel important.) I remember the call clearly - I was working on my '65 Corvair convertible's interior at the time, polishing 15 years of grunge off of the seats, but I valiantly grabbed the phone anyway.
"Son, I've been asked to run for President of the Shull and I wanted to talk with you about it first."
I tried to be more than just a "Yes man." I knew he would take it seriously, so I reminded him of all the ups and downs he knew he would face if he accepted the position. Angry congregants would call him. Everyone word he said publicly would be scrutinized. The Shull would look to him if it fell short of meeting expenses ones month. Lots of big projects were on the table - including finding a new Rabbi and raising the mechitzah. This would be a tough Presidency. I told him that if he wanted to do it, I was with him 100% and that I myself would join the Executive Board along with him.
It was settled. My father was nominated to be President of the Shull, and I joined him on the slate as Recording Secretary. Nobody opposed him in the election. He conducted his first meeting eloquently, and he did everything the President was expected to do.
His cancer progressed quickly, but he stuck with his duty. I think having such an important position helped him in the fight. When Rabbi Silver applied for the position of Rabbi of Bnai Israel, my father worked hard over the phone to make sure he was the right choice and help bring him here. It was the last piece of Shull business he was able to work on.
The difficulties were there, too. As expected, congregants and other board members scrutinized his every action. He even received a threatening call from an angry board member while on his deathbed. But he took it all with a level a patience and grace I had frankly never seen in him before.
When he finally got the opportunity to meet the new Rabbi he had worked so hard to bring to Bnai Israel, my father was already slipping away and unable to speak to him. He passed away shortly before Rabbi Silver moved to town.
The legacy of my father's presidency is a strong shull that weathered a difficult time - a metaphor for his own existence. It is also an eternal memory of his work. Four times a year, when we say Yizkor, his name is included in the list of past Presidents whose memory is blessed. It's an impressive list because it contains important people, more than 50 years of history, and it's short.
My father's love for Bnai Israel and his determination to work for his congregation teaches us all an important lesson. Every Shull needs volunteers. People need to help move chairs around. People need to make phone calls. People need to make donations. People need to show up and meetings and vote. My father didn't let cancer become an excuse. It makes it awfully difficult for the rest of us to think of excuses not to serve. The shull is the hub of the community. The community is everything to a Torah Jew. Honor my father's memory just a little more and give your time to your shull.
"I'd like to be President of the Shull... if only so my name will be on that list."
My father, halfway into his battle with cancer, made that remark flippantly to a friend of his. He probably wasn't even sure if he meant it or not, but he knew that Bnai Israel was important to him. The shull and its Rabbi had done so much for him and been such a source of inspiration, that he felt closely tied to it. He was already on the executive board, and enjoyed speaking with the other board members about the nuts and bolts of running the Shull. He was capable of being president. He just hadn't really thought about running.
That friend took it seriously, though. He went straight to Rabbi Friedman. They discussed it, and asked my father to accept a nomination for President at the upcoming election. My Dad needed to think it over. He needed expert consultation. He needed advice from the one person he could really trust. So, of course he called me. (That's probably not true. He probably talked to Mom first, but I like to feel important.) I remember the call clearly - I was working on my '65 Corvair convertible's interior at the time, polishing 15 years of grunge off of the seats, but I valiantly grabbed the phone anyway.
"Son, I've been asked to run for President of the Shull and I wanted to talk with you about it first."
I tried to be more than just a "Yes man." I knew he would take it seriously, so I reminded him of all the ups and downs he knew he would face if he accepted the position. Angry congregants would call him. Everyone word he said publicly would be scrutinized. The Shull would look to him if it fell short of meeting expenses ones month. Lots of big projects were on the table - including finding a new Rabbi and raising the mechitzah. This would be a tough Presidency. I told him that if he wanted to do it, I was with him 100% and that I myself would join the Executive Board along with him.
It was settled. My father was nominated to be President of the Shull, and I joined him on the slate as Recording Secretary. Nobody opposed him in the election. He conducted his first meeting eloquently, and he did everything the President was expected to do.
His cancer progressed quickly, but he stuck with his duty. I think having such an important position helped him in the fight. When Rabbi Silver applied for the position of Rabbi of Bnai Israel, my father worked hard over the phone to make sure he was the right choice and help bring him here. It was the last piece of Shull business he was able to work on.
The difficulties were there, too. As expected, congregants and other board members scrutinized his every action. He even received a threatening call from an angry board member while on his deathbed. But he took it all with a level a patience and grace I had frankly never seen in him before.
When he finally got the opportunity to meet the new Rabbi he had worked so hard to bring to Bnai Israel, my father was already slipping away and unable to speak to him. He passed away shortly before Rabbi Silver moved to town.
The legacy of my father's presidency is a strong shull that weathered a difficult time - a metaphor for his own existence. It is also an eternal memory of his work. Four times a year, when we say Yizkor, his name is included in the list of past Presidents whose memory is blessed. It's an impressive list because it contains important people, more than 50 years of history, and it's short.
My father's love for Bnai Israel and his determination to work for his congregation teaches us all an important lesson. Every Shull needs volunteers. People need to help move chairs around. People need to make phone calls. People need to make donations. People need to show up and meetings and vote. My father didn't let cancer become an excuse. It makes it awfully difficult for the rest of us to think of excuses not to serve. The shull is the hub of the community. The community is everything to a Torah Jew. Honor my father's memory just a little more and give your time to your shull.
