Growing up, there was a simple set of table and chairs in our kitchen. Most people who came through our home would not have given it a second glance. It was heavy, and plain. The color was a nondescript brown. This set is actually still in my stepfather’s home, and he eats on it every single day. It’s remarkable since the set was built by my great-grandfather over 100 years ago now. It still looks brand new. My great-grandfather was a carpenter and knife-maker. I still have his bag of tools and in the front pocket of this ancient canvas bag is a piece of paper that his wife placed there. It reads, “Measure twice, cut once.”
Now, I am not a carpenter. You should not give me tools. I am more likely to cut off my finger than to make something that can last 100 years, but that table and tiny piece of paper help me every day in the work that I am lucky enough to do.
Right now, especially now, it is hard to act as a team. I hear from colleagues across the country that due to working apart, they find it harder than ever to really hear what the people they work with are saying. This is not a new problem. The pandemic has possibly exacerbated or perhaps simply brought into focus issues that have existed for a long time.
Before continuing, I want to acknowledge that I am amongst the luckiest of Cantors and the congregation I serve is not normal. In a really good way. I hear from friends and colleagues all the time, “your congregation is not the norm.” What are they talking about? We are truly able to function as a team. We listen to each other. We rely on each other. We trust each other. How do we do this? There’s a little ineffable magic to it, sure, but really, we follow the advice on my great-grandfather’s piece of paper. We measure twice so we only have to cut once. In organizational terms that means we talk, a lot. We don’t assume anything. And no program, no demographic, nothing belongs to just one person. We talk about everything. Yes, it can be exhausting, but we are stronger both as a team and as a congregation because of it.
The other element to this equation is the metaphorical version of my kitchen table. In order to work to the best of our abilities we have to sit down at that table together. Every time we gather as a staff we take a moment to have a personal check-in. This practice long preceded Covid. We know and genuinely care what is happening in the personal lives of each person around that table. It is understood that before we are employees of the synagogue, we are people with lives. We have partners and children and stress and triumphs. We celebrate and commiserate before we hash out temple stuff. (Yes, that is a highly technical term.)
Once we have sat down at the table and acknowledged each other’s humanity, then we can get to work. When we are able to be in the building together we all sit at a round table so that we can all see each other. We look into the eyes of those with whom we serve. We fight (nicely), we disagree (a lot), we don’t always make a decision at that moment. But when we leave the room, no matter how bitterly we disagree, we are a united team. We know that we have the support of each other. Everything is fixable if we can come back to the table together. Everything is doable if we listen to each other, measure twice and cut once.
Cantor Rebecca Moses
Temple Sharey Tefilo-Israel
South Orange, NJ
