In Jewish tradition, we count 49 days – seven weeks of seven days – between Pesach (Passover), when we remember what it was like for us to be slaves in Egypt, and Shavuot, when we celebrate receiving the wisdom of Torah at Mount Sinai.
This year, as usual, I took a day off of work before the Pesach first night seder, so I could concentrate on shopping and cooking for the holiday. Despite my plans, however, I ended up spending much of the day on the phone.
You see, I am president of the Board of Directors of my synagogue, and a thing that truly should not have been a big thing had turned into a Really Big Deal. It was my job to try to fix the situation, and because feelings were running high, it couldn’t wait until after the holiday.
As a result, my shopping wasn’t done until later than I had planned, the cooking started much later than I had anticipated, and none of the expected three batches of matzah ball soup made it into existence that day. By the time the seder started I was completely off my game, and even the comfort of the rituals of this, one of my favorite holidays, was unable to fully restore my equilibrium. I was in my own little Egypt.
At my synagogue, the term for a president is one year, with an option to renew for a second year. It is assumed that every president will serve in that capacity for two years. In the almost 55 years of our congregation’s existence, only one president has served only one year.
Even before Pesach, my husband was discouraging me from serving as president a second year. I had already been on the Board for five years, serving four years as an officer. It was something I had always enjoyed. But being president was something entirely different.
After a number of months as president, I stopped attending Torah Study, which is something I had participated in regularly for the previous seven or eight years. I was able to convince myself I was skipping Torah Study because being president required me to have so many meetings and conversations with so many other people, that, as an introvert, I just needed to have some time alone. This was true, to a certain extent, but it wasn’t the whole story.
Over time, I found myself attending services less and less as well. Being there didn’t bring me the peace and joy it used to bring. I remember once telling one of our rabbis I was planning to go into the sanctuary to spend some time, “hanging out with the Big ‘G,’” but now I found myself strolling around the Civic Center Lagoon in order to do that, instead.
It was after another late night conversation with my worried husband, and after reflecting on some of our past presidents who still live in the area but who we almost never see at the synagogue, that I made my decision.
I wanted to be president so I could serve the congregation I love and to help it on its trajectory toward being one of the best synagogues in the country. And I was able to do that.
But I can’t take proper care of the congregation or the people there if I don’t take care of myself first. And continuing to be president for a second year would have turned me into one of those presidents you never see at the synagogue any more. That wouldn’t have been good for me, and I like to flatter myself to think it wouldn’t have been good for the synagogue, either.
I knew I had made the right decision when, after I had spoken to the chair of the officer nominating committee and our head rabbi about my decision, all I felt was relief. This is the right thing for me to do, and, I both hope and believe, it will allow me to continue to serve the congregation and the people in my community for many years to come.
As a result, after spending Pesach feeling I was in Egypt, 49 days later I once again attended Friday night services, Torah Study, and Saturday morning services with much the feeling I used to get in the “good old days.” I was able to celebrate Shavuot last Saturday evening feeling like I had once again made myself ready to receive the wisdom of our people.
It feels good to be home again.
—————-
“Like” the “>follow me on Twitter.
