Thank goodness I did not listen to my father. I admired him in many ways, and often did follow his advice, but in warning me about becoming a rabbi — wow, did he get wrong!
He reckoned that I would be condemning myself to live in an ivory tower, divorced from reality. Perhaps he was thinking of some of the rabbis of his youth, whom he saw leading prayers in a foreign language on the Sabbath and then closeted away in their study the rest of the time: invisible six days a week and incomprehensible on the seventh.
The reality has been very different: modern rabbis are totally immersed in the joys and stresses of the world, with everything in between the two massive traumas we each face, birth and death.
Although I was trained primarily in liturgy and textual analysis, I spend vastly more of my time helping individuals with depression or sitting with those whose partner has just run off. Dealing with addiction, domestic violence and sexual problems are also part of the job spec.
Not that it is a daily battle with problems and woes: new births, young love, social action and fun communal projects are common too. Rabbinic life is certainly full-on, to the extent that for most of the last 40 years I have never been to bed the same day that I got up. That is not a complaint, just a description.
The Big Questions 18.02.18
Speaking out: Rabbi Romain taking part in a TV debate
Among the many tasks we need to perform is dealing with difficult individuals. Many clergy spend hours trying to pacify a person who is constantly offended by others, or dealing with the mayhem they cause at meetings or on committees.
In some cases, the trick is to educate them on how to interact better with others, or to find them a niche task where they can rule their own kingdom without disturbing others. I did that once by putting a talented but obnoxious woman in charge of the library. The hyena turned into a pussycat and welcomed everyone gracefully into her new domain.
Sometimes, though, a tough conversation is needed to protect the wellbeing of the congregation at large.
If that means the person then walks out in tears or anger, it is painful, but necessary. I am happy to care for and nurture needy individuals, but if they poison activities for others, that is my red line. Majorities need protection too.
Another confrontation that can arise is with couples intending to get married. Planning a wedding can be very joyous, but there are occasions when we clergy have to act as referees between relatives on both sides making unreasonable demands.
As I am sure other ministers do, I am at pains to tell the couple it is their wedding and those interfering voices had the chance to do what they wanted at their own ceremony and should now keep quiet.
Even more distressing is when we feel a couple are not right for each other. Do we keep silent, warn them or refuse to proceed?
Prince Charles
The King and I: the rabbi meeting Charles III
It is impossible to predict how relationships will develop, so extreme caution is needed, but that should not stop alarm bells ringing. Like most ministers, I arrange a pre-marriage group sessions. I start off by putting the couples on high alert by pointing to every third person in the room and saying they may end up divorced, as is the national average.
On the two occasions when I was adamant the proposed marriage was doomed, I felt it was only right to tell them. One couple agreed — they each knew it deep down, but needed someone to pull the plug — and decided not to go ahead. The other proceeded and were divorced shortly afterwards.
Sometimes it is the duty of clergy to say what family and friends resist doing.
Another dilemma is being asked to pray for something we feel is inappropriate: from passing one’s driving test, to England winning the World Cup, to a relative being cured of advanced cancer.
Some rabbis will have faith in miracles to change reality, but many of us prefer to pray for personal qualities in dealing with it: asking God for calmness to concentrate on one’s driving, not for empty roads that day; for footballers to give of their best, not for the opponents to be useless; for the patient to have the strength to persevere and for us to have the courage to deal with whatever happens.
There is reputational risk here — prayer is supposed to be our speciality and it is seen as a professional black mark if we fail at it, while the person asking can feel God has let them down. We constantly have to remind them that prayer is an expression of desire, not a request with success guaranteed.
It is also important to encourage people to pray in a way that is helpful to them, with the emphasis on communicating, rather than on results. As George Meredith put it: “The person who rises from their prayer a better person, their prayer has already been answered.”
An even greater challenge is temptation. So much of our time is spent with individuals alone, and often in intimate conversations about their life and feelings.
It means there is always the danger that someone might make sexual advances to us, be it out of lust or because they feel we understand them better than anyone else, mistaking care for desire.
There is also the danger that we may be the ones who initiate matters — either we are equally aroused or feel that the person is so appreciative of our attention that a mutual chemistry is developing beyond professional respect.
The solution is not piety, but thinking through the consequences, be it the hurt that can result to the other person, to ourselves and to respective families. Fear of what could go wrong is probably more powerful than “Thou shalt not”, despite the latter’s divine signature.
One piece of inside information I can share is that many rabbis (though certainly not all) prefer officiating at funerals rather than weddings. This is not out of dislike of people enjoying themselves — there are few experiences more heart-warming than seeing a couple in love — but from a rabbi’s perspective, we can be more useful at funerals.
A wedding will almost always be a stunning success, with bride and groom beaming, however badly the rabbi mangles the service.
At a funeral, however, there is a much more proactive role to play, addressing the different emotions of mourners — grief, anger, guilt, bewilderment — and also trying to heal any family rifts. The emotional stakes are much higher at a funeral than a wedding, and the scope for the rabbi to either help or blunder is much greater.
Amid all these swirling currents, an intriguing question is why some talented clergy get sacked and others, who can be highly controversial or give dire sermons, remain in post.
It comes down to relationships. Congregants place warmth and kindness above oratory or efficiency. They will tolerate our lapses, eccentricities or daft views, but not our coldness, indifference or not knowing their names.
You were wrong, Dad — being a rabbi is a fantastic job.
Dr Jonathan Romain is rabbi of Maidenhead Synagogue and author of The Naked Rabbi (John Hunt Publishing)
