The next day Jonathan and I went to the Pompeii exhibit at the Museum Center downtown. It was fascinating, but again, emotionally difficult. They had body casts of people in the moment they died; i.e. the exact position of how someone looked two thousand years ago, immortalized in ash. They need Kleenex warnings at the exhibit opening.
In less-sad but still slightly disappointing news, I was offered to teach a class at Cal State Sacramento. As much as I wanted to do it, I went with pragmatism and turned it down - I don't want to be overwhelmed in my first months in a new job, and thought it would be wiser to stay focused on temple life.
And because I'm in a strange funereal mood, this image cracked me up!
4 comments:
I totally understand that you don't want to break down in the middle of a funeral but I'm quite sure from the mourners' point of view that they would appreciate that you actually knew and liked their loved one.
sheryl
I've only officiated at one graveside service and I was lucky because I didn't really know the family and hadn't known the person. It's so much easier to keep it all together. And it sounds like you were a real pro by keeping it all together when others were so emotional around you. You're a person first, a rabbi second. Please never lose your humanity. You will find a way to have both...your emotional attachment and your emotional DEtachment. I have 150% confidence in you.
Love,
Mom, who respects you and believes in you.....always.
Well, Sheryl and Mom... have you seen rabbis tear up? What is a good balance, you think?
Rabbi Wolli Kaelter always said a rabbi must be able to cry with his or her congregants. And you did that. Tearing up? It's the perfect balance. I believe people appreciate knowing that their rabbis are human beings with feelings, not just robots performing services.
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