The New Chapter

These days I find the old Grateful Dead tune, “Truckin", with its lyric, "What long, strange trip it's been" rolling around in my head.  In truth, my trip has not been so strange. It’s just had some twists and turns I’d not quite anticipated. As I have written about on my former blog, “A Wondering Jew” I have been on of a journey of exploration over these past few years. After more than 35 years as a full-time congregational rabbi, I decided to strike out, exploring new paths. These past two years have been something of an adventure: working (and traveling) for a national organization for a time; teaching in a variety of settings around Boston and beyond; spending more time studying; serving a small congregation for the Holy Days in Fall 2018; and doing some writing.

Sometimes paths find us and they beckon us to try them out. This, in some measure, was a part of the backdrop for these past years as I deepened my study and practice of Mussar, seeking new opportunities to share it with others. Additionally, firmly settling into "empty-nest hood," Laura and I began to think about where to live out our next chapter. In recent months, and even these past few days, some of the paths have intersected and shown me the road which now lies before me: a new physical home in the MetroWest part of Greater Boston, to which Laura and I will relocate later this Fall; and hence a new community to become a part of as we settle into our new geographic setting; even more invitations to lead additional Mussar groups in the communities in which I am already teaching. And now, in these past few weeks, an invitation to join the Faculty and staff of The Mussar Institute at an exciting turning-point in the Institute’s journey.

Some months ago, I read a column by NY Times journalist David Brooks which instantaneously spoke to me on a number of levels. The first was the realization it must be a tease for a new book offering by Brooks. Indeed, it was. More profoundly, David Brooks was writing about a piece of my own experience in recent years, this quest for a new path in my rabbinate. His central premise in The Second Mountain capture for me, the essence of my own wrestling and exploration: 

“On the first mountain, we all have to perform certain life tasks: establish an identity, separate from our parents, cultivate our talents, build a secure ego, and try to make a mark in the world. People climbing that first mountain spend a lot of time thinking about reputation management . . . The goals on that first mountain are the normal goals that our culture endorses—to be a success, to be well thought of, to get invited into the right social circles, and to experience personal happiness. It’s all the normal stuff: nice home, nice family, nice vacations, good food, good friends, and so on.

"Then something happens . . . Some people get to the top of that first mountain, taste success, and find it…unsatisfying. If the first mountain is about building up the ego and defining the self, the second mountain is about shedding the ego and losing the self. If the first mountain is about acquisition, the second mountain is about contribution. . . You don’t climb the second mountain the way you climb the first mountain. You conquer your first mountain. You identify the summit, and you claw your way toward it. You are conquered by your second mountain. You surrender to some summons, and you do everything necessary to answer the call and address the problem or injustice that is in front of you. On the first mountain, you tend to be ambitious, strategic, and independent. On the second mountain, you tend to be relational, intimate, and relentless.” (from David Brooks, The Second Mountain)

Now I sit in my summer setting in the Berkshires, thinking, preparing and getting excited about all the new paths life is placing before me. This past Friday night, I joined my new congregational community at Sha’arei Shalom in Ashland to lead my first Shabbat service as their rabbi. The congregation, almost ready to celebrate their 25^th anniversary, is an inspiring community of families who set out to create a rich and nourishing Jewish setting in their MetroWest community. To have found this community near our own new physical home was a blessing. To have been invited to serve as their rabbi is an additional blessing – and Friday night sent my soul soaring. (And I owe the folks at Bethlehem Hebrew Congregation in Bethlehem, NH a debt of gratitude for showing me something that was missing in my life.) To have been blessed last year to share the Mussar journey with members of five Boston-area synagogues enabled me to stretch my own “Mussar muscles” and I am deeply gratified to have been invited back into each of these communities – in some cases, for the third year, and in the rest a second year. In several cases, I am also grateful for the opportunity to help launch new Mussar groups for those who wish to get on the path as well as an opportunity to explore the study of the weekly Torah portion through the lens of Mussar.

In just these past few weeks I have been engaged in some deep and meaningful conversation with my teacher, mentor, and friend, Alan Morinis, founder of The Mussar Institute. Alan has been a constant source of encouragement along the path of these recent years of exploration. Now Alan has invited me to join the team at The Mussar Institute in helping to shape and create their new CHAVERIM Initiative as a series of paths to enable members of TMI to deepen their own learning and practice. What a sacred trust and opportunity – I am grateful to Alan and my other teachers for this invitation, which will deepen my own study and practice, and enable me to join with others in the sacred and deeply meaningful soul-work of Mussar. As if that were not enough, this morning I awoke to an email from Alan inviting me to also join the Faculty of The Mussar Institute. I am truly humbled by this invitation as I join so many of my teachers as a colleague. Without their teaching, encouragement, and inspiration I am not sure where my path would be leading me.

Geographically, workwise and spiritually, my paths are changing, and they are intersecting to lead me towards a new series of opportunities . . . dare I say to my new mountain a la David Brooks. How richly blessed I feel to be standing at these new starting points. (Oh yes, and Laura and I are eagerly awaiting the birth of a new grandchild in just a few weeks to join Ian at the center of our hearts and souls.)

Not a strange trip. Sometimes an uncertain one. But how can I feel anything but gratitude, humility, honor, and excitement. I look forward to sharing some thoughts along the way, from my new perch in a meadow, and along this newer path.

I wish you blessings along your summer journey!