Why Australian synagogue boards and their rabbis lock horns so often

DEBORAH STONE: The synagogues are run by boards whose members are voluntary. They aren’t motivated by money but by ideology, power or ego - though not always in that order.

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, I believed grown-ups held dinner parties so they could argue about the rabbi.

My parents held elegant dinner parties in the 1970s constructed in flans and flambees, colour co-ordinated linen, and pre-dinner mixed drinks.  I passed around chips and dip in my pyjamas during the drinks.

My journalistic instinct must have already been in operation because I listened to the conversation acutely and observed high drama in which the key characters were “the rabbi” and “the board”.

I grew up in a city with only one rabbi, so for many years I assumed these conversations were the problem of our small city and its idiosyncratic community.  

The rabbi versus board trope is one of the most pervasive dramas of modern Jewish life. I discovered its universality thanks to fiction. It was a revelation to read Harry Kemelman’s rabbi books (Friday the Rabbi Slept Late, Saturday the Rabbi Went Hungry etc) and discover they always contained a subplot of synagogue politics.

I was initially surprised. How did Boston-based Kemelman know what my parents and their friends were arguing about in Auckland, New Zealand?

Of course, he knew. New York or New Zealand, Johannesburg or Melbourne, synagogue politics is almost as canonical as the liturgy and many Jews find it a good deal more engaging.

As a teen, I found it more amusing than disturbing.  When we reached b’nei mitzvah age, my father encouraged the children to attend our synagogue’s annual general meeting and become involved in communal life. When he asked if we were coming, our usual response was, “Are there going to be fireworks?” Dramatic conflict between my father and his peers would be worth watching. Peaceful transitions of power, not so much.