I have this perception that there are three broad aspects to the
job of a clergyperson. (If I've missed some, please say so.) The
first is in the area of knowledge; in the case of a rabbi it's knowing
our texts and the rabbinic process and applying halacha and so on.
The second is all the performative aspects: leading worship, public
speaking (giving sermons and lectures), conducting special events,
and so on. The third is the collection of personal-interaction skills
that I lump into "pastoral care": comforting those who are troubled,
guiding spiritual seekers, visiting the sick, working with congregants
with special issues, and so on.
I consider the first two to be tractable -- not easy, of course,
but I understand how to get there given suitable time and effort --
but I sometimes think I just don't grok the third. Sure, sometimes,
but the path for turning "sometimes" into "most of the time" isn't
clear, and I don't know what concrete endeavors lead to improvement
here. People are hard.
This shabbat I found myself in two very different situations in this
space, and in both cases I felt confident and didn't worry about being
out of my league. That was a bit surprising.
The first one was the easier one (and if this were the only one I
probably wouldn't be writing this post). Someone who's been thinking
about converting to Judaism for at least a year, but has still felt
some ties to Christianity, told me he's decided that Judaism is right
but he's extremely hesitant to tell his parents and he wanted my advice.
While the explicit question was about dealing with his family, I sensed
an implicit question of "how do I know this is really the right choice?".
I talked with him about family stuff and how my own family had surprised
me with how accepting they were, and we talked about some logistics.
But as I talked about my own family I wove in a few bits of how I had
come to realize that this was the right path for me. I never said
"you'll know because of X", because how can I know what will work for
someone else?, but I gave him things to think about.
The second is one of the regular attendees and participants in our
synagogue. She told me that a dear friend, a gentile, had died and she
had gone to the funeral. She said she didn't participate in the liturgy,
it not being hers, and that at one point during it she had said the
mourner's kaddish quietly to herself. She wanted to know if this was
ok.
"Ok" is such a loaded concept. Was she asking me for a halachic opinion?
It seemed unlikely that she wanted me to talk to her about the
preconditions for saying kaddish, and similarly, it seemed unlikely
that she was asking whether one can say kaddish for a friend (rather than
just specified relatives). And anyway, she was asking after the fact
(b'diaved). Was she asking whether this was offensive to Christians?
That seems unlikely, especially as she did it non-invasively.
So I opted for the path of comfort and said something to the effect that
it's traditional that we say kaddish among Jews, but mourning
is primarily about bringing comfort to the mourner and this obviously
brought her comfort. I then told her that when my grandfather died
(while I was going through conversion), I attended the high-church
Greek-Orthodox funeral and then we proceeded to the graveyard for
the burial. I found a time where I wouldn't bother anyone else,
stepped a few paces away from the service in progress, and said kaddish
for him, reading from a copy I'd tucked into a pocket just in case it
became relevant.
I don't know if I handled either of those the "right" way or the way
my rabbi would have, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that I
had apparently-useful instincts and enough perceptive ability to see
and think about the underlying questions. And both people seemed to be
glad that we'd talked, which is a good sign.
But people are still hard. :-)