Tuesday, August 20, 2013

For Whom the Bell Tolls



For Whom the Bell Tolls

Rabbi Michael L. Feshbach
Temple Shalom
Chevy Chase, MD
          
        My previous post (see below: Words Matter), which also recently appeared, in edited form, on the back page of the most recent Reform Judaism magazine (http://reformjudaismmag.org/Articles/index.cfm?id=3290) might have a problem.  Or at least, based on the feedback I am getting, there was something I did not think of.
          I proposed the word “chaverim” as a replacement for “members” in synagogue life.  I still like the proposal.  But it is awfully close to a parallel and in some ways overlapping part of (or rival to?) synagogues – the Chavurah.  Now, there are such chavurot (small group fellowships) within congregations, and there are independent Chavurot that function as quasi-congregations, or NSO’s (non-synagogue organizations). 
The words and concepts are obviously linked.  But what separates them?  What would be the difference between my “chaver” of a synagogue, and a Chavurah?
You know, when you are in a chavurah, you get to know everyone in it in an intimate way.  You break bread together, you celebrate holidays, you are there for the joyous life-cycle events, and you support each other in tough times.  Large synagogue settings obviously need such a sense of small-group connections within the overall framework; you can be BFF’s with more than one person (despite the linguistic conundrum involved)… but you can’t be close friends with everyone.
Here, though, I am struck by a really powerful comment someone shared with me a few years ago now.  There was a tragedy in the congregation, a young sibling of a congregant suddenly died, and we organized meals for the family.  (We don’t, I must confess, do full meals for every family in mourning; I think it would be great to do so but that is not what we have been able to do on a routine basis.)
But this family wasn’t in a “chavurah” per se.  They had some, but not a large number of close friends in the congregation.  So the people bringing the meals, by and large, did not know the family they were cooking for (or, in this day and age, who they were picking up food for – also appreciated; this is not a mitzvah that should be limited only to those with enough time to do a home-cooked meal!)
And one woman, a long-time, very active congregant, told me how much it meant to her, to have the chance to help… someone she did not know.  That she got to know someone new here… not to be best friends, but, well, just to be there.
Those words have always stuck with me.  Because… here’s the difference between a chavurah, and a chaver of a synagogue.  A Chavurah is folks you know well.  When you go to visit in the hospital, when you cook a meal, when you celebrate a holiday together, you are doing so with an “almost family.”  You are responding to a friend in need.
That is great.  And it would also be great if we could feel that way about the whole world.  Remember that the Christian concept of “charity” is based on the notion of “charitos”, the same root as “charisma,” which means “love.”  How great would that be, to love everyone?”
Forget it.  Until the Messiah comes, until human nature changes, until Facebook makes friends of us all, not going to happen.
But when you go, not out of want, but out of need, when you go not out of subjective connection, but out of objective obligation… that… that is about a different level of values.  That,  I think, is the meaning of mitzvah.  Feeding a close friend, who wouldn’t do that.  Feeding someone in your community you do not know, but are bound to… that is a horse of a different color, a value of a different valence.  Would that we could all be close.  But needs are now, and the need is real.
Both are important, the chavurah and the chaver.    One will be there because they know you.  The other will be there… because they should.  And maybe, even, will get to know you. 
Or not.  What they get out of it is that what they get out of it is not the point!
Ask not for whom the bell tolls.  Really.  Don't ask.  Just do.