Rabbi's Blog
Remarks upon receiving the “Keter Shem Tov”, the “Crown of a Good Name”
November 8, 2008 /11 Heshvan 5769
I have a favorite story that you may have heard me tell before. The story goes like this – I heard Pete Seeger tell it:
Two maggots are living happily in a pile of manure. One day their lives are disrupted when a shovel scoops up part of the pile and them along with it. As they are carried along, they are jostled and fall off. One maggot lands in a nice big dog turd on the sidewalk, and the other lands deep in a crack in the pavement. The maggot in the manure eats and grows shiny and sleek and fat, while the other maggot is terrified, unable to climb out of the abyss. With nothing to eat, this maggot gets emaciated and wan. One day, the maggot in the manure remembers his friend and decides to take a stroll and find out what happened to him. Well, as he crawls along the sidewalk, he happens to peer down into the crack. He spots the other maggot and says, “Hey brother, is that you down there? I hardly recognized you, you look so miserable. What happened?” “Well, I don’t know” said the other, “I was on that shovel with you and the next thing I knew I had landed down here. It’s miserable. I can’t get out, I can’t find anything to eat. But you, brother! You look fantastic, so sleek and fat! How did you get that way?” To which the fat maggot replied “Brains and perseverance, brother, brains and perseverance!”
I am the maggot that landed in the good stuff! (I hope you’ll take that in the right way!) I appreciate the brains and perseverance that the Kadosh Baruch Hu granted me, but I have learned some humility over these years. I am one of the luckiest people alive. First my parents: I could not have become your rabbi without their moral and financial support. Wouldn’t have happened. And then, I did have the brains to know a compatible and wonderful community when I saw one, but all the good fertilizer was already here – I just had to tend this garden with you, and watch us grow. I am not going to be falsely humble – I am aware of my gifts and am thrilled to have the inner resources that I have – but I am one fortunate grub!
As it happens, today is the 25th yahrzeit, the 25th anniversary of the passing of Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan. Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan was one of the great Jewish thinkers and teachers of the 20th century, and the formulator of the approach to Judaism known as Reconstructionism, the approach in which I was trained. It is appropriate for me tonight to thank Rabbi Kaplan, and to bless his memory. Without his defining presence in American Jewish life, I suspect I would not be here celebrating with you tonight. My father David Kligler of blessed memory’s enthusiasm for Jewish religious life was sparked by the Reconstructionist synagogue that he and my mother joined some 50 years ago. Then some 30 years later I found my spiritual base at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College – no other rabbinical school spoke to me the way RRC did. It offers a combination of intellectual rigor and spiritual openness unique in the Jewish world, and a direct offspring of Kaplan’s philosophy. I am also eternally grateful for Rabbi Kaplan’s daughter Judith and her husband Rabbi Ira Eisenstein of blessed memory. Some of us here remember Judy and Ira. They retired to Woodstock, and during my first seven years here they adopted me and my family, nurtured us and mentored me. So, I profoundly honor the memory of Mordecai Kaplan, who passed away this day in 1983 at the age of 101.
One of Kaplan’s central teachings is that American Jews live in two civilizations, our own Jewish civilization and the larger American civilization. Our task in the modern era is to consciously adopt and adapt the best, most forward thinking attributes of both civilizations, so that Judaism can continue to evolve and develop. The key attribute of American civilization that Kaplan promoted was democracy, and this has been a remarkable week in the evolving story of American democracy. An initial sublime idea “that all men are created equal” was severely limited by the social and conceptual limitations of the 18th century. Those who did not own property were excluded, Blacks were enslaved and women were dismissed and disenfranchised. But the sublime idea took root, and through great struggle continued to grow and force its way into the sunlight. And this week, an African American was elected president of the United States, and a peaceful transition of power has begun. This is American civilization at its finest manifestation. I would note the coincidence that 40 years ago, on the night before he was murdered, the reverend Martin Luther King compared himself to Moses and declared:
“Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop.And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!”
40 years later, 40 being the Torah’s symbolic number for a full generation, with the election of Barack Obama we as Americans have attained one aspect of our modern prophet Martin Luther King’s dream. And we as Jews can take pride that King found his inspiration in the story of our own ancestors’ Exodus from slavery. This is what Rabbi Kaplan meant when he taught us to take the best of both civilizations.
There is yet another remarkable coincidence that I must share with you: today, this Shabbat that just ended, is the 40th anniversary of my Bar Mitzvah. In that tumultuous year of 1968 I became Bar Mitzvah on Shabbat Lech Lecha at Bet Am Shalom in White Plains, New York. Today is, in fact, my Hebrew birthdate, the 11th of Cheshvan. And we are having a party! None of us were aware of this confluence when we scrambled through the calendar to find a date for this event. So first I must note that this just may be too many coincidences to be a coincidence. Let’s hear it for the enduring mystery of life, and for, as my grandfather Joseph Schupper liked to say, “the great puppeteer”. And, in honor of this anniversary, I get to make a speech. So now I would like to offer some “thank you’s”.
My mom Deborah Krasnow is here tonight. Mom, may we share many more simchas in good health. I would owe you a debt that could never be repaid for the infinite care and love you have given me, except that you have made it clear that I don’t owe you anything. Your love has been truly unconditional, informed by total commitment, devotion and hard-earned wisdom. So I can only say that I am enjoying the attempt to be a similar kind of parent to my girls. I know that is compliment enough for you.
I wish to remember my father David Kligler with gratitude and love. Both of my parents bequeathed to me good brains, big hearts, the desire to do right, and a love of Judaism, Israel and the Jewish people. I got my singing voice from my father. I particularly remember my dad, who generally had trouble enjoying himself, at the Kiddush lunch after the service of my or one of my brothers Bar Mitzvahs. Dad was beaming, and dancing with my mom. I rarely saw him so happy and relaxed, but it was fulfilling for him to watch his boys grow up. This is a particularly poignant birthday for me in that regard, for in turning 53 I have reached the age of my father when he died. I am acutely aware of this passage, and give thanks that I can, God-willing, look forward to a much longer life than my father had.
I give thanks for the incredible good fortune that my stepfather, Herb Krasnow, entered our lives more than 25 years ago. Thanks to Herb, I have had continued to have a father. Herb is an inspiring example of what it means to be a mature man, generous, steadfast, thoughtful, supportive, and kind. Following Herb’s example, I feel that I can finally say: today, I am a man.
It is beyond wonderful that my family’s lifelong friends Bill and Sylvia Wolff are here tonight. Bill and Sylvia have known me and supported me my entire life. And cantor William Wolff was my Bar Mitzvah tutor. I don’t know if I thanked you back then, Bill! Now is my opportunity. I would like you all to know that almost all of the melodies that I sing on the High Holidays and that you now sing with me were taught to me over the years by Bill Wolff.
I express my greatest gratitude to my wife Ellen. Ellen missed my Bar Mitzvah, but as my partner in life, Ellen has allowed me, with significant personal sacrifice on her part, to have everything I truly most wanted in this life: meaningful work, and the opportunity to raise a family. Ellen, I hope I can continue to support you to fulfill your dreams as you have supported me.
I thank the organizers of this evening: Patricia Mitchell, Geri Brodsky, Karen Tashman, and all the others who made this evening possible. I also want to acknowledge our Board of Directors who lead our congregation with care and wisdom and have provided me with the ongoing support I need to fulfill my role. I am blessed with a professional staff who are great at what they do, committed to the mission of our synagogue, and full of love and care: Karen Tashman, Zoe Zak, Julie Makowsky, Sandy Armstrong, Sharon Hoferer, and all of our wonderful Family School teachers. And I thank all of you, who are sharing with us the holy work of this Jewish community, the Congregation of a Full Heart.
There is one more anniversary I must alert us to this evening: Tomorrow is the 70th anniversary of Kristallnacht, the great and awful state-sponsored pogrom that marked the beginning of the end for European Jewry under Nazi control. I have always felt that a central purpose of my work is to help to reweave into whole and beautiful cloth the tatters of Jewish community that remained in the wake of the Holocaust, and I have been blessed with the opportunity to do that with you. Allow me to repeat a paragraph I shared with you recently on Yom Kippur.
“Where Judaism had appeared lifeless or of little value to many of us, a painful, grudging obligation, over these past 2 decades our holy community has redeemed and rediscovered Judaism, and brought it back into our lives. Most beautifully, as we have allowed Judaism to guide us, Judaism has begun to redeem us, and to guide us on the path. In the process we have introduced hundreds of children to Judaism, and we have created a place of healing for Jews of all backgrounds. The tears shed by hundreds of individuals over the years in our sanctuary have been tears of homecoming, of release, of joy. Despite all the terrors of anti Semitism, despite all the hateful messages that circulate about our people, despite the fear-driven defensiveness and desperation that too often characterize Jewish communities, our congregation is committed to the deep truth that it is good to be a Jew. Despite it all, we not only choose to keep our tradition alive, but to reclaim its joyous song, which the fires of history, oppression and human hatred cannot quench.”
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be your rabbi.
This evening I am honored to be the first recipient of Kehillat Lev Shalem’s “Keter Shem Tov”, which means “the crown of a good name”. The title “keter shem tov” originates in the Mishnah in the section Pirkei Avot, the Wisdom of the Sages. Here is the full citation:
“Rabbi Shimon omer shlosha ktarim hen: keter torah v’cheter kehuna, v’cheter malchut. V’cheter shem tov oleh al gabeihen. Rabbi Shimon said: There are three crowns: the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood and the crown of kingship. But the crown of a good name surpasses them all.”
Rabbi Shimon teaches: whatever honors or power or status one might accumulate or attain in life, their value ultimately means nothing without one’s reputation and good name. This is emes, truth. And, I have learned, nowhere is this truer than in the contemporary rabbinate. My authority as your rabbi does not stem from any control or power I hold over your lives. In the Orthodox world, there is agreement that the decision of your rabbi is final. For better or worse, the Orthodox rav is granted power and authority. Not so in our slice of life: my decisions are not binding over you – I wear no crown of authority. What have I got to lead with? No rulings, no decrees, just my self: how I present my self to the world, how I interact with all of you, how I live. Since I am as imperfect as the next guy, I can’t pretend to be a flawless moral exemplar. So what have I got? I have learned, through many missteps and much soul searching, that what I have is my good name. My reputation as a real human being, who tries to practice what he preaches, owns up to his mistakes, and loves the best he can. It is on this foundation of profound honesty that I base my life and my work, and to the degree that I do this well I earn your respect and your loyalty as your rabbi. In this way, serving as your rabbi has served me and my own growth as a human being: not with ego gratification at how good I am (though it is really nice to be good at what I do, and I truly appreciate all of the heartfelt and genuine strokes I receive for my work), but with the enforced opportunity, every day, to treat everyone I meet the way I would like to be treated, to earn the crown of a good name by living as righteously as I can. I am grateful for the opportunity that my role as your spiritual leader gives me to be my best self every day, and I thank you for honoring me with the crown of a good name. May we all grow together in strength, awareness and love.
