Part of the reason I wanted to come, other than being in the right place for work, is we haven't been here overnight in two weeks. My other job, the volunteer job that occasionally blows up into a demanding all-out attention hog, has been dominating my evenings. The temple is going through a challenging time, largely due to poor communication habits, no consensus on leadership roles, general incompetence, and personality differences. The cohort of leaders that I am closest to (past presidents, mostly) has been out of the loop for a few years and only recently have we inserted ourselves back into the fray. With mixed results, I must confess.
It is far too early to go into detail here -- the conversations are still ongoing -- but we have got past some of the worst parts. Even though I have not been the president for nearly ten years, I have graduated to an elder stateswoman role and there is always work, under these circumstances. As always, the basic rules continue to apply: tell the truth, speak clearly, don't burn bridges, and keep talking. This is harder than it sounds when we are working with people who won't maintain any of those simple rules. For some reason, drama and posturing is much more appealing to our lay leadership -- even though they too have the best interests of the congregation at heart. I have no doubt about that. They come at it from a different direction, but they truly want the best for everyone, even if it means trading out our current clergy for a cheaper model.
I have spent the last month ranting and raving to Jon, between each phone call and meeting. He is my main sounding board and he keeps me sane. He sits on the couch and hears my end of the conversations and he says, "wow, I have never heard you be so political."
On the positive side, there is a process for all of this and we are doing our best to honor the process, despite the need for drama and posturing. And for right this minute, my job is done. The committee that delivers a report from the congregation (I am the chair) scrambled to do its work, speaking to about 80 people on the phone and in person, collecting the wisdom and experience of the group. Usually this committee is nearly invisible, but circumstances brought our work into the spotlight and we were bombarded with letters, in addition to the random phone conversations we initiated. We delivered our findings to the rabbi and then to the Board, and we were thanked and sent home. Our findings stated unequivocally that the congregation wanted to keep the rabbi, contrary to the spontaneous plan of some of the leadership to trade him in. He isn't perfect, but we still want to keep him.
So now we wait to see what happens next. All through this month, I have been comparing the shenanigans of the temple to the national political scene. There are definitely places that remind me of the U.S. Government. It just shows that humans, when working as the leaders of an organization, do not always rise to their best. We come from different backgrounds, we bring our own lifetime of experiences to the shared tasks, and sometimes we just don't get it right. People in leadership might be the worst people to do the job. Who in the world would want to be President? Only someone with some big ego issues. This is not entirely accurate in synagogue life, but the opportunities for mismanagement are certainly always there, and it is easy to head down the wrong path when you think you know best and aren't so good at consulting the group.
Anyway, I came to Loudoun last night because I could. I didn't have any meetings or phone calls, I am on the sidelines for now, and sleeping in our airy cabin seemed like exactly the right medicine. When I woke up at dawn, I looked outside and saw a wild turkey bopping around near the hammock. When I went to the outhouse, there was a large deer peering at me from Jon's clearing. I haven't spoken to anyone in over twelve hours. Bliss.
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