Published: 12 October 2018
Last updated: 4 March 2024
There is a paramedic and a registered nurse. We stay afoot of the latest discoveries and developments through medical journals and Google. We are not guided by doctors nor are we swayed by the big pharmaceuticals. We decide what treatment, if any, is required.
Similarly, we started a group that meets quarterly to decide on the strategy for our superannuation investments. What we lack in formal tax and investment certification we make up through a regular reading of the Australian Financial Review and online news outlets. We have been driven to this course of action by corruption in our financial institutions.
The unjustifiable commissions paid to brokers and the distorted salaries of advisers have left us feeling disillusioned. Members of our group share their investment philosophy, and although we not obliged to follow their advice, their presentations are often very convincing.
Next, we start a synagogue. We are frustrated by the current communal model of rabbinic leadership and don’t want a rabbi to tell us how to interpret the Torah. Our community is blessed with a wealth of intelligent and erudite individuals, many of whom have spent time studying in yeshiva.
We share the responsibility of delivering sermons, which are based on our understanding and interpretation of the weekly parsha. Halachic decisions are arrived at through consensus.
The rabbinate, despite facing challenges that are equal to or more demanding than other professions, fails to live up to similar professional standards.
With physical health, we need specialists. With our financial future we demand wise professionals. Yet in the area of our spiritual development, we settle for laypeople. In Talmudic language; we demand expertise for Chayei sha’a (this world) but settle with superficial guidance in Chayei Olam (matters pertaining to the next world).
“A wise man learns from every man” is not the same as saying learning from everyone will make you wise. Wisdom has to be earned; one needs to be wise before one can learn from everyman.
The ejection of the rabbi from the synagogue is symptomatic of the fact that rabbis have allowed themselves to become irrelevant. The rabbinic aristocracy role in Jewish life has been taken for granted, and the people are rebelling.
Every profession has a certifying board that oversees it and regulates its members. Certification to its members is conditional on strict adherence to codes of conduct and ethical practices. Members are required to engage in continuous development through structured courses and lectures. Errant members are disciplined and if necessary, disbarred, stripped of their certification and shunned by the professional community.
The rabbinate, on the other hand, despite facing challenges that are equal to or more demanding than the other professions mentioned, fails to live up to similar professional standards.
Most rabbis have no formal training as counsellors or therapists, despite the expectation that they would be competent in those areas. There is little by way of continuing development programs or even conferences designed to improve their skills, knowledge base or abilities. Rabbis are not expected to undergo professional supervision, something mandated by all accredited therapeutic and counselling bodies.
Even public speaking; the bread and butter of a rabbinic career, is seldom learned. It’s either natural talent or lack thereof; and we all can bear witness to both. And rabbinic scholarship, advanced Tanach and Talmudic studies is seldom sought after in any meaningful or structured way.
Rabbis, of all denominations, are becoming increasingly irrelevant on the Australian landscape, largely because their demand for professional recognition does not recognise the behaviour expected of professionals.
Shuls without Rabbis are not the problem. They are a symptom of the current reality.
Gad Krebs is the Rabbi of Kehillat Masada at St Ives in Sydney
Illustration: John Kron
