Solace For Rabbis Not Among ‘Top 50’

by Jeffrey Salkin
Special To The Jewish Week

Let me make this clear from the outset: I’m not particularly disappointed about not having made Newsweek.com’s recently released list of the top 50 rabbis in America. My son thinks I should have made the list, but it’s his job to believe that, or at least to tell me as much.
Neither would I begrudge any of the rabbis on that list this wonderful cyber-honor. Some of them are among my best friends, and they deserve whatever recognition they can get in this crazy world.
No, my issue with Newsweek.com’s list is deeper than that. It’s about what it means to be a top rabbi in America. This is not just a problem of rabbinic egos; it is actually a problem for the entire American Jewish

community.
It’s not as if the compilers of this list were circumspect in their methodology. To the contrary, they were very clear about their criteria: political and social clout, size of constituency and media presence, among others.
As I see it, these rabbi rankers are replicating Aaron’s exhortation to the Israelites as the golden calf jumped out of the foundry: “These are your gods, O Israel...”
Why do I say that? Because, to paraphrase Martin Buber’s famous formulation, such a list lends credence and support to the rabbinate’s transformation from an “I-Thou” profession to an “I-It” profession, from the subtle sanctification of those things that are not easily measured or quantified or even known, to external and ephemeral trappings that will threaten to devour the rabbinate alive.
First, there’s the fallacy of size, in which the rabbi who dies with the most congregants wins. Disclaimer: I am not putting down large congregations. I presently serve one as senior rabbi, and it has been one of the most enjoyable experiences of my career. But it is simply wrong to assume that the rabbi of a congregation that has 2,000 or 3,000 families is, a priori, one of America’s top rabbis. If this were so, then there are any number of rabbis who somehow got omitted from that list.
Do we assume that the senior rabbi of a 2,000-family congregation automatically has a reasonable percentage of those families in synagogue on any given Shabbat or festival, or that the number of a rabbi’s students automatically increases along with the size of the synagogue roster? Call any of the “big congregation” rabbis on that list and ask them.
Second, there is the problem of measurement of impact. In compiling the rankings, Newsweek.com asked, “Have they made an impact on Judaism in their career?” I wish I knew what that meant.
Surely on that list there are a few rabbis who have made lasting contributions to the way that American Jews perceive themselves as Jews and as human beings. But if we’re looking at rabbis who have helped shape Judaism, then how about, say, Rabbi Eugene Borowitz, the Reform theologian who literally created modern Jewish theology as a discipline?
That’s just one example, and it points to a bigger problem: Absent from this list of criteria is any mention of scholarship or learning as being necessary for congregational rabbis. Can it be that these values, once integral to the rabbinic calling, have totally slipped off the map? Blessed are the rabbis whose congregants care about that.
Impact? Influence? What possible way is there to gauge the influence and impact of rabbis who, quietly and without fanfare, teach Torah every day of any week in any synagogue?
Take the total number of students and the total number of hours of learning and teaching and multiply that — and that’s the source of the future of Judaism. What possible way is there to quantify the calling of those rabbis who sit with families in the face of death, who hold the hands of distraught loved ones in intensive-care units at 1 a.m., who spend time with kids both at synagogue and at Jewish summer camps, gently and lovingly molding minds and souls?
In the words of the poet laureate of the Jewish people, Hayyim Nachman Bialik: “May my portion be with you, you quiet of soul.”
Newsweek.com’s list of top rabbis should not only cause concern for rabbis, it should cause concern for lay leaders as well. The making of a Jew is a slow and laborious task, and most of the work happens out of anyone’s range of sight. To know that means having faith — not only in Judaism, but in those who teach it. If we are slightly confused about what makes a great rabbi, it’s because we are more than slightly confused about what makes a great Judaism. Until we figure that out, many rabbis and lay people will continue to be frustrated.
And so, to my colleagues who are peeved that they didn’t make the list, despite their contacts, and to those Jews in the pews who are miffed that their rabbis’ names somehow got left on the cutting-room floor, do not despair. Like the afikomen at the Seder, the real goodness that happens is often hidden — it’s just waiting for someone to find it. n
Rabbi Jeffrey Salkin is senior rabbi of The Temple in Atlanta and the author of several books on spirituality and Jewish identity. His latest book, “A Dream of Zion: American Jews Reflect on Why Israel Matters To Them,” will be published by Jewish Lights Publishing in the fall, 2007.

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