Dear Friends,
I just returned from the Maine Conference for Jewish Life, a project of the Center for Small-Town Jewish Life at Colby University. The idea of the conference is to draw interested Jews and friends from the surrounding areas and urban centers to the small town of Waterville to experience superior Jewish learning and joyous celebration. For those who are living far from one another, it is an opportunity to gain access to the Jewish world’s finest scholars and cultural innovators, and simply to have the experience of being surrounded by a critical mass of other Jews. I went as a speaker, but I learned so much and made wonderful new connections.
Five years ago, I moved to Greenport and became a rabbi in a small town. As you may know, when I completed my schooling, I applied to only one synagogue — Tifereth Israel Anshei Greenport. According to the laws of the Rabbinical Assembly (RA), new rabbis can begin their careers by serving only small congregations, or they can become assistants to established rabbis. I’m convinced today that a small-town rabbi is a specific type, and perhaps should even be its own “major” in seminaries.
A small-town rabbi is the one who sees himself or herself as a member of the greater community, and must not be afraid to become part of its fabric. Being a small-town rabbi, especially when moving from a large metropolitan area as I did, we learn to appreciate any Jewish or non-Jewish contribution to our effort. In a small town, typically there is no “other shul” to go to or not to go to—you know, like a family. At rabbinical school, we are warned against equating small congregations with less work. In fact, we were told we would be working even harder because of a smaller staff. This is certainly correct, but as the Hebrew word for “rabbi” is Rav — one who has a lot — I can attest that even in a small town, a rabbi can receive a lot.
Small town rabbis often feel isolated. It is a big transition from studying for hours every day with friends at the Bet Midrash (religious study hall) to having only a weekly session with a chevruta (study partner), if you’re lucky. But in an age when technology allows us to connect — live — everywhere in the world, is there really such a thing these days as a small-town rabbi? We can easily become part of a bigger group, forming a body of small congregations, such as we have here with the East End Jewish Community Council (EEJCC).
At the conference, we watched a movie titled There Are Jews Here. It was a feature documentary about four struggling congregations and the creative ways they maintained Jewish life in places where most never imagined Jews existed. It’s true that most American Jews live in large cities where they are free to define themselves as Jews in various ways. But mostly invisible are roughly one million Jews scattered across the country. For them, Jewish identity is a daily challenge to live affirmative Jewish lives lest they and their legacies fade away forever.
In one of the film’s examples, in the Mexican-American city of Laredo, Texas, we follow a young, interfaith couple trying to reignite their community’s Jewish life amid a dominant Catholic culture. In another example, in Butte, Montana, a spiritually committed woman lay leader tries to keep her community afloat, even as she struggles with personal health. Once thriving American Jewish communities, now are barely holding on. Some unfortunately had to close their doors and give their Torah scrolls to a neighboring congregation — as if to say, the Torah show must go on, albeit somewhere else.
On the reward side, I know that I am a small-town rabbi when I run into people in the post office and then a few minutes later again at the local coffee shop, when the former mayor makes my furniture, or when I get a call from the group exercise trainer asking why I hadn’t shown up for class. It’s a delicate balance of friendship and pastoral. It is an extended family of different faiths. As one of my colleagues said to me, “If you don’t want to be seen, don’t go to the IGA.” After five years in Greenport, I’m happy and proud to say I am a small-town rabbi. As our synagogue transitions to new leaders, I would like to thank outgoing president Alan Garmise, who supplemented my support system and allowed me to be a small-town rabbi. And I wish Adrianne Greenberg success in her new/old position. Her success is a success for all of us. Let us continue to be a beautiful example of small-town Jewish life. There is something beautiful about knowing your neighbor. “Shalom beChailech v’Shalva b’Armonotaich.” (Peace be within your boundaries, and tranquility in your palaces.) [Psalm 122:7]
May we all have a blessed summer,
—Rabbi Gadi Capela