“About that Credo - how it all turned out” - A letter to my 1980 self from the future you - April 17, 2021.

Dear 5th-year HUC-JIR student Larry Karol  of December, 1980:

     I just read your “credo as a Religious professional” that you wrote for your Human Relations Practicum.  

    You really were quite a prophet, in many ways.   I thought I would take some time to respond these 40 years and 5 months later.   

     You probably didn’t know, or maybe you did, that you would eventually quote Pirkei Avot 1:6 in the essay you wrote to accompany each resume that you developed in the decades to come.   I have to tell you, that it was a great choice, and even now, in my retirement, I would still consider it axiomatic. 

     You were right.  Every person does have something to teach.  There were times when I was the teacher, and other moments when I needed to be the student and listener.   Maybe I didn’t always get it right, but I believe, for the most part, I knew when to share my insights and when to drink up the wisdom of others.  

    The one senior rabbi under whom I served was a warm and caring guide and teacher, who gave me space to grow over the course of three years.  I had space to be creative, to learn from mistakes, and to grow in ways that I probably never imagined.   Even when I served small congregations over the course of 36 years, my rabbinic colleagues and other Jewish professionals (that includes your brother, and your wife-to-be, whom you have not met but who lives just 50 miles away from you - you’ll see) taught me how to lead meetings effectively, how to put problems and conflicts into proper perspective, and how to do my best to be a good partner in leadership.   

     I have studied Judaism all my life.   It’s never stopped.  Just you wait until the computers you saw in their infancy at the University of Illinois create a world-wide network of resources for continued learning and connection.   Then, also, wait until those books that you have begun to accumulate multiply sevenfold, or maybe tenfold.   I didn’t read all of them, but I did get through many of them, much to my benefit. 

    You should know that I have kept all of my Bar/Bat Mitzvah files and Confirmation files.   Serving in small congregations for all these years allowed me to be tutor and teacher to every student one-on-one or in small groups.  Every one of those simchahs was meaningful to me.  I have to say that officiating at the Bar Mitzvah and Confirmation of our son, and blessing his wife as she became a rabbi (can you believe it?  Another Rabbi in the family!) were special highlights, along with every student upon whom I pronounced the priestly blessing before the ark.   

      “Caring” is something that, already, you are doing with friends, classmates, and people whom you have served as a student rabbi.   You set the foundation for me to be present for congregants who were facing health challenges and  associated difficult choices.    I can’t say that people came to my office often for formal counseling, but, in my view, I engaged in many conversations with people in the course of congregational life that addressed how to deal with personal dilemmas and life decisions.  It was much more organic than I expected it to be, but, perhaps, it was best that way.   

     Your stated intentions to participate in interfaith programming were a harbinger of what was to come.  I was, and still am, involved in interfaith groups and discussions, both formal and informal.   It has been enriching.  It was most significant when I was able to bring congregants into my inter-religious work, which did happen, especially to mark Thanksgiving and the annual Martin Luther King Birthday celebration.  Sorry, I just revealed part of the future to you, but you may know that a Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday has already been proposed in the House of Representatives, so know that it will come to fruition.   I have been fortunate to participate in many discussions with people of diverse faith groups that have been enlightening and fulfilling.  My learning in this area has never stopped, and I had many excellent teachers along the way.  

     Remember your discussion with one of your Hillel friends at the University of Illinois about whether or not people who only took part in the dance group were really “doing something Jewish”?    You said yes, and your friend still wondered why they couldn’t take part in more religious activities.   Your perspective about the multifaceted nature of Jewish expression stood the test of time.  And, yes, I have told that story, often.   I became an avid reader of books in Sociology of Religion, and even taught the subject at a local university as an adjunct professor for several years.    It was an excellent way of looking critically at my ongoing work in the Temple I was serving at the time.   You should know, by the way, that I did develop specific programs that helped congregants define their activities in the greater community in Jewish terms.   Why shouldn’t giving clothing or food to local agencies that help people in need be seen as a Jewish act?    And why shouldn’t visiting a museum featuring an exhibit of Jewish interest be related to expressing one’s heritage?   By the way, you should know that lighting Chanukah candles together (with many Chanukiot present) and hosting a community-welcoming food and cultural fair in the small congregations you will serve will truly be special and memorable.  

     Spirituality is something about which you already have a sense, especially through music.  Perhaps you will try to tell people that you don’t want to be known as the “singing rabbi,” but that’s what you are.   I tried to fight it, but my guitar accompanied me onto the bimah three weeks into my rabbinate, and that guitar (the Ibanez 12-string will be with you for a good long time) and others have  joined me ever since.   You will sing in Temple and at conventions, and you will find your own musical voice.  I know I can’t tell you to nurture that creativity for original music until you are ready.  In the meantime, you will find many contexts in which to sing and maintain musical partnerships that will help you and others grow in ways you might not be able to imagine.   Don’t ever stop yourself from singing (and playing)! 

     There was a moment when I spoke to Mom and Dad about the trajectory of my rabbinic path.  They wondered why I didn’t want to go to a larger congregation.  I said to them, “I want to have time for my family, and for myself.”    I was right.   You will meet well-known singers, governors, senators, and community leaders even while serving small congregations. You will create long-lasting relationships. I can’t second-guess myself for the journey I have taken for myself and with my family.    Just know that it all turned out well.    Last year, I crossed from “work” to “retirement” standing up straight, with my head held high, and with family and friends present at that special moment.  And, I still haven’t stopped singing, learning, teaching, and leading, even in these months of this new chapter of life.  

     I really envy you for what’s in store.   Hold fast to that credo you just wrote.  It will serve you well as an ideal, and make your rabbinic reality worthwhile and valuable.  The road will have its bumps along the way, but have faith that you will relish this journey to come!

Love/L’shalom, 

Larry

Your future self, 40-plus years down the path of life! 

     

    

Dear "America Firsters" - April 17, 2021

Dear America Firsters of 2021,

You are not, any more than the previous “America First” folks, the “first” in “America.” Plenty of people preceded you.

That “America First” means, to you, “Anglo-Saxon,” reveals how many people in the United States whom you would like to ignore, or cause to disappear, in an instant, if you could. No question that it would not be good for the country or the economy.

So now we are into “Anglo-Saxon” first, really. Why don’t you call it that? I don’t want to be part of your Anglo-Saxon club, ever. In its past incarnation, “America First” prevented the possible chain migration of hundreds of thousands of people who could have enhanced our nation and culture. Instead, many of those potential citizens, relatives of people already present in the United States, died at the hands of the diabolical regime of the Third Reich, whom the American Firsters of the 1930s and 1940s refused to admit was an enemy that needed to be opposed at all costs. Fortunately, the America first isolationists did not win that argument.

You are purveyors of fear that people who don’t look like you might outnumber you someday. We are on that path, demographically, and some of us believe it would be a good thing to see those changes.

That is because we don’t need your narrow-minded hateful chauvinism and bigotry. It started as xenophobia that emerged at very beginnings of our country, and it is not something to revive. It is an approach that we must leave behind on the dust-heap of history so that we can truly grow closer to each other.

In the words of a major non-Anglo Saxon music poet: “Please get out of the new one if you can’t lend your hand, for the times, they are a’changin’.”

My Credo as a Religious Professional - December 1, 1980 - Human Relations Practicum - Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion - Cincinnati, OH

 I just found this while going through my files before our upcoming move.    Here is how I expressed my credo six months before I was ordained as a rabbi nearly 40 years ago. 

*********************

 MY CREDO AS A RELIGIOUS PROFESSIONAL 

Larry Karol 

Human Relations Practicum 

12/1/80 

I have studied Bible, Rabbinic literature, Jewish history, and other subjects in preparation for the rabbinate. There is a saying l have encountered which, I believe, expresses my credo: a basis for my career as a Reform rabbi. It is stated in Sayings of the Rabbi (Pirkei Avot) 1:6: "Find yourself a teacher and get you a colleague." By applying this maxim to myself and my congregants, I am confident that my years in the active rabbinate will be fruitful and rewarding. 

1. "Find yourself a teacher"--In my experiences as a student rabbi, I have discovered that every person has something to offer and teach. Congregants at my bi-weekly pulpit have given me insights into my own personality, my effectiveness as a preacher and pastor, and into life in general. I have visited Jews in hospitals, senior centers and private homes and discussed history, education, politics and current events. I hope to continue to learn, in the future, from members of the congregations in which I serve.
2.   "Get you a colleague”- Should I serve as an assistant rabbi, I will look upon my senior rabbi as a "teacher" and colleague.”  I recognize the importance of exchanging ideas and discussing problems with other rabbis. I hope to develop enriching relationships with my colleagues so that I may learn from and, hopefully, instruct them in return. 
3. "Find yourself a teacher”--It will be my task to be a teacher of Jews of all ages. I will study all Judaism my life, and I believe that all Jews should make Jewish education a lifelong endeavor. I see programs in Youth Education and Adult Study as equally important.  A religious school can provide Jewish young people with a firm background. Religious learning, however, should go beyond that point. Rabbis, teachers and parents should constantly seek Jewish knowledge, for their own edification and for passing on that knowledge to the next generations. 
4. "Get you a colleague"--I would understand “colleague" 1n the sense of "friend." Rabbis are “people who care.” They serve their congregants in times of joy and in times of crisis and need. Rabbis are pastors and counselors.  People seek their guidance and understanding. Many Jews also look to rabbis as exemplars of ethical behavior and human concern. I do feel that rabbis should set such an example so that others will follow and maintain for themselves to a high level of concern and morality.  I will treat congregants with respect and honesty--as “colleagues, “ my equals--in the.hope that my behavior will engender respect and honesty in return. 
5. "Get you a colleague”—I would take "colleague" to imply, also, friendship outside the congregation and outside the Jewish community. Interfaith programming and dialogue can lead to such fellowship, and dispel the ignorance of Judaism which is rampant in some sectors of our society. I would try to form relationships with Christian clergy and lay persons to share with them with insights about our faiths  and engender cooperation within the community-at-large. 
6. "Find yourself a RAV"--Judaism is a religion of deed, and while I will serve my congregants as a teacher, pastor and religious functionary, I will try to train them to be doers of Judaism. Like the rabbis of old, I would be their RAV, providing guidance on the religious aspects of their lives. I would be a facilitator, seeking to raise congregants to a higher level of knowledge, participation and self-sufficiency in Judaism and Jewish life. This is being achieved now through adult education and chavurot programming, and I wholeheartedly believe in involving members of congregations more fully in religious worship, ceremonies and study. 
7. "Find yourself a RAV and get you a friend"-A RAV not only teaches and studies. A RAV should strive to guide Jews spiritually. A rabbi must be in tune with the Jewish soul. I have always considered music to be a vital expression of the soul of our people. It can unify a congregation in worship and serve as a tool for education.  The Psalms, the cantillation of the Torah, Haftarah and the Scrolls, and many musical pieces composed inside and outside of the synagogue setting speak to us of our heritage and our faith.  I am am committed to the task of maintaining music as an integral part of worship and celebration, through choral singing and congregational participation.  I would support, and, if necessary, involve myself in the music program of any congregation which I serve as rabbi. 

 "Find yourself a teacher, and get you a colleague.” This statement, in all of its interpretations, will be my credo as a religious professional, as I become a leader in the American Jewish community.

Look in the mirror - Who are you, really? Column for the Las Cruces Bulletin on April 2, 2021

        

        I joined with members of Temple Beth-El in recent weeks to discuss how various Star Trek series teach about values that find expression in Jewish tradition.  

        In our second session, we focused on one episode from the second season of “The Original Series” in the 1960s entitled “Mirror, Mirror.” 

        The storyline thrust several familiar cast members into a parallel universe, where cruelty and competition (often to the death) were the hallmark of life on their ship, also called the Enterprise.

       The ruthless counterparts of the four crew members, due to the same unexpected phenomenon, appeared on the Enterprise in the “regular” universe.   The first officer, Mr. Spock, was fascinated (and saddened) by their extreme behavior, which, he believed, indicated the evil tendencies that reside in the human psyche (which we do our best to suppress).   The counterparts were detained until their return “home.” 

        In our session, we discussed why the writers might have set up a parallel universe where morality was turned on its head.  In terms of creating science fiction, such a choice was not necessary. 

       We concluded that the intention was to demonstrate that human beings have the capacity for making a wide range of choices, some based on compassion and cooperation, some not so much.   

       There is a teaching of the Jewish sage Hillel that declares, “In a place where there is no decent human being, strive to be a decent human being.”  

      In that spirit, the “regular” crew members caught in a hostile environment found a way to act upon their sense of ethics and duty.   That included providing the “regular” Captain Kirk with an opportunity to encourage the “mirror” Spock to rise to a higher standard of behavior and resist the cruelty around him, allowing the logic of his upbringing to guide him. 

       The Jewish holiday of Passover, which began on the evening of Saturday, March 27, focuses on retelling a story of standing up for decency amid a sea of human cruelty.  

       On the first two nights of Passover, Jews participated in a ritual (and meal) called a Seder (which means order).   A book called the Haggadah (which means “telling”) brings together the prayers and text that retells the story, enabling participants to relive the Israelite experience of moving from slavery to freedom.   

       The narrative in the book of Exodus casts Moses and his brother Aaron as the Israelite leaders who stood before Pharaoh to demand an end to the bondage of their people (with extensive divine support).   

    Almost nothing convinced Pharaoh to grant that liberty, as he was too entrenched in the hatred that had taken over his entire being.  He was unable to see other people as human.  He refused to recognize their pain and suffering.  

    There is a site in Montgomery, Alabama, which commemorates the deaths of several thousand African-American victims of lynching and racial violence from 1877 to 1959.  It is called the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, and it sits near a location where enslaved African Americans were once sold.   Bryan Stevenson’s Equal Justice Initiative created the memorial, hoping that it would move all people, going forward, to be their best selves, and to nurture genuine respect and fairness in society. 

    After witnessing recent violent attacks, and senseless murders in the Atlanta, Georgia area and in Boulder, Colorado, we are called upon, more than ever, to stand up for decency and engender hope.  

    That is the mission before us.