blogs/rabbi-huberman

I’m going to share a little secret. It has been asked many times: “How is it that the Cantor and the Rabbi seem to get along so well?”

Those who have attended CTI services, may have noticed that the Cantor and I appear to truly like each other. We occasionally do a little fist bump, or we’ve been known to affectionately touch each other’s shoulders.

And yes, you are right we genuinely like each other and really enjoy working together.

Cantor Gustavo was born in Argentina, and I was raised in Canada. Privately, we often comment on unique aspects of American culture—Thanksgiving, ugly holiday sweaters, fireworks and Groundhog Day—as we learn to truly embrace life in the US.

But as with any relationship, it takes good communication and a willingness for both of us to express and accept thoughts, comments and even criticism. 

Too often, people hold back their feelings. In communications theory this is known as “evidence gathering.”

A person does something we do not appreciate, and we say nothing. Then, that is compounded by another act, often innocent, and before we know it, we have assembled a “file” of negative behaviors that ultimately leads to a communications breakdown.

Over more than 18 years of working together, I can count on one hand “issues” the Cantor and I have experienced.  Perhaps I have changed a melody in mid-service and caught him off guard.

Perhaps he has visited someone ill, and didn’t let me know before I call a few minutes later.  These are minute things.

The Cantor and I have an unbending rule: If something perplexes us—usually small and innocent—we close the door within minutes or hours and work it out.

And in so doing, these small things never turn into big things. If only all life worked that way.

I was thinking about the importance of expressing concerns, issues and grievances, as I reviewed this week’s Torah reading (Vayetze—“Jacob left”) where—after swindling his father’s generational blessing last week from his enraged brother Essav—Jacob runs away for 20 years.

Later, we learn that Jacob—while on the run—worked for his uncle Lavan for two decades at “minimum wage.” Rather than confront Lavan and negotiate a fair increase or settlement, Jacob grabs what he considers his share of sheep and goats—and runs.

In his early years, Jacob consistently “plays the angles.” He never confronts, addresses or repairs relationships.

Even with God, Jacob seems to play the “if” game.

The Torah quotes Jacob as he appears to negotiate with God.

“If God remains with me, if God protects me on this journey that I am making, and gives me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and if I return safe to my father’s house— the Lord shall be my God.” (Genesis 28:20-21) 

That’s a lot of “ifs.”

The Talmud teaches that it is better to express our concerns to someone as soon as possible, rather than to let our criticisms accumulate and ultimately cause more tension.

And while the Talmud cautions against arguing “when the pot is boiling,” it encourages us to express ideas, criticisms and constructive feedback with minimum delay, and in the most positive way.

I recently shared this story with someone: On a Shabbat about 40 years ago, during my pre-rabbi days in northern Canada, my father invited me to Toronto to join him in celebrating a significant birthday.

“And by the way,” he added, “I’ve arranged for you to chant the Haftorah (the 24-sentence reading from the prophets) at my synagogue on that Saturday.”

I was obviously concerned. “But Dad,” I protested. “Your synagogue has 22 ordained Orthodox rabbis. I haven’t been in a synagogue in years—never mind chanting the Haftorah.” He replied, “You’ll do fine.”

When my big moment came, I successfully stumbled through the Haftorah. But when I finished, only one rabbi came up to wish me a “well done.” His name was Rabbi Steinberg, of blessed memory.

“Young Mr. Huberman,” he cheerfully said as he tightly gripped my hand. “The way you recited the Haftorah melody, was absolutely beautiful.”

It took me a few minutes to realize that he really meant was my Hebrew had been less than perfect—but he found a way to catch me doing something right, while making me feel I could do better.

I believe that the way he spoke to me on that Shabbat, the way he found the good in what I had done, provided a vital life lesson that inspires me as a rabbi to this day.

There are many lessons contained in this week’s Torah portion. We learn from the reference to Jacob’s ladder, that God can be found anywhere, even in the wilderness.

And if so, God can also be found especially within all our relationships. There are many relationships which I treasure—particularly with my wife, children, brother and his family, parents and yes, the Cantor.

For I have learned that life is largely about embracing and building better relationships, L’Shem Shamayim—in the name of heaven. 

Over the years, in each of our lives, there may be people who consistently think the worst of us. Perhaps even we have assembled an “evidence file” on a family member, colleague or friend.

But as we consider on the High Holidays, these stalled or broken relationships do not do us any good. Indeed, positive relationships require honesty and tweaking day by day.

In his younger years, Jacob’s habit of running away from his problems and placing “ifs” on his relationships, demonstrates that he still had lessons to learn.

As we consider his fractured connection with Essav, Jacob reminds us that we can lose many precious years by not, in a timely manner, addressing our errors and personality flaws.

Better to experience temporary discomfort today, than face regrets and lost time in the future.

For as this week’s Torah portion inspires us to consider, especially within our relationships, we are just as good as the next kind and honest thing that we say.

Shabbat shalom v’kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman