Two years ago, I was nominated and elected president of our shul — again, having served in the position about 15-or-so years earlier. Friends from my other lives around the country responded to the news with condolences, commiserations, and various forms of body language to suggest tough luck, misfortune and mercy.
They would be so wrong.
Oh, of course I understood that, like life itself, the administration of a synagogue could be messy from time to time. Plans go awry: Food orders don’t get delivered, as promised; the AC gives out on an usually warm Rosh Hashanah morning; the bathrooms flood during a bar mitzvah reception; the Zoom audio connection is inconsistent, and those online can’t hear the service, etc. etc. etc. Those things can happen and, yes, in fact, they did, among other “events” that make a president wonder, “What else?”
The happy news is that although each of those mishaps did indeed occur, members of our congregation rushed in to set them right. I recall Dr. Lew Teperman, leaping to his feet to open doors and windows to create cross ventilation on that hot Rosh Hashanah morning. Joanna Paulsen turned up the oven heat to make sure late-arriving kosher meat would be ready for the Passover Seder, already in progress. Nathan Graf, whose son was the bar mitzvah that Saturday morning, was the calmest person in the room when the flooding was discovered. To the rescue came Rabbi Gadi himself, who invited those in need to use the facilities at the parsonage. And as the angry text messages rolled in on Yom Kippur, Andrea and Steve were already concocting a Rube Goldberg fix to get the audio working again.
As president, I would preside over all board and congregation meetings. And what a strong board I had — 11 experienced leaders, professionals in their respective careers, knowledgeable and insightful. How fortunate. A dream board. On election day, the election itself having been completed, and this new president in place, I began my term, as planned, in coordination with the outgoing president that she would call the Annual Meeting of the Congregation to order and preside over it, and I, as my first official act as president, would adjourn it. And so, as confidently as I could, I said, “If there is no further business before this board…”
At that precise moment, there, waving to get my attention, a board member, newly sworn in, posed a provocative question…to which I had no immediate answer. The silence was as audible as a cannon’s roar. What would she say? I can’t blame people for wondering. President for about 12 seconds, and already a situation at hand.
I have always tried to face difficult situations forthrightly. As my friend Judith has said, “Sara, I can always tell when you’re trying to hide something.” So, as we were on Zoom, I sat up in my chair, trying to look as in-control as a newly minted president could and, clearing my throat, I said, “I’ll get back to you on that,” adding quickly, “is there a motion to adjourn?” And it was over. Now, 23 board meetings later and with a firmer grip on emerging issues, I thank my board members for helping me assume the requisite tasks and obligations with vision for the future. No president could ask for more.
As my days in the job close, I hear friends from my other lives around the country respond to this news, not with condolences, but with congratulations, mazel tovs, and body language to suggest thankfulness that it’s over, it’s somebody else’s problem, have a cocktail to celebrate.
Like the naysayers two years ago, they, too, would be wrong.
Yes, it is time for someone else to lead this much beloved shul here in Greenport, and to guide new initiatives to secure the future of our shul and the membership it serves. But my part in the continuum will always be a source of pride — to have represented this shul — and one of personal pleasure — that I was granted the opportunity to work with a caring congregation, an intelligent and perceptive board, and a rabbi who has become a friend. This is a time that calls not for a mazel tov that it’s over, but a time to savor what working together can yield. —Sara Bloom
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