Redemption in 5768

Well, I have redeemed myself. What better way to start out the new year than self-redemption?!? To explain, I'll need to tell a background story ...

Two weeks ago we had our orientation Shabbaton at the college -- for all mekhinah and first-year rabbinical students. This was my second (and last) Shabbaton, and relative to most of the other people on the trip (the bulk of whom are mekhinah year), I'm considered an "old hand." I've been around for a year. I should know something by now.

This fact made it all the worse when, without any warning, the dean of the college came up to me right before dinner and asked me if I would do motzi -- the blessing over bread. The person originally slated to do so wasn't there, and they needed someone to fill in. Motzi, motzi, motzi, could I do motzi? The words raced through my head like I was on some sort of steroids. My eyes bugged out of my head in what must have been an abject look of horror and I said: "Yeah, sure, okay."

Well, you don't become the dean of a rabbinical college if you have no abilities in social subtexts, and I didn't fool her for a minute. "Are you sure about this?" she asked very sweetly, and perfectly sincerely. "You can say No you know."

I beamed right back at her, bobbed my head up and down eagerly, and heard my mouth actually saying the words: "Uhhh, okay no then. I think I'll say no!" Then, realizing what I was saying was just so totally and completely lame, I added on the equally lame explication of: "I just need to mentally prepare myself for these types of things. I just need a little more warning."

If any of you reading this aren't able to grasp just how totally and completely pathetic it is to be in rabbinical school and tell your dean you can't lead motzi, let me put it this way: This would be like telling someone you don't know the tune to Happy Birthday. It would be like telling someone you need to "mentally prepare yourself" -- for several days no less -- to start a group singing it. It's just ... pathetic.

As the final candle on the cake as it were, guess who lead motzi instead of me. Guess! guess! Her 4-year-old daughter.

Oye. That really hurt. I literally spent the rest of the afternoon pulling aside my closest friends and telling them in a sharp, horrified whisper: "Oh my god, you're not going to believe what I just did! I just told the dean I wouldn't lead the motzi! What the hell is wrong with me!?!"

It's been two weeks, but I have redeemed myself. The dean might not know it -- but I know it. I was up at the congregation where I work in Allentown for Rosh Hashana, and attended a nice dinner with a group of 18 people from the congregation. Without any warning at all, they asked me if I would lead kiddush (the long blessing over wine), whose melody I learned 6 months ago and have never done in front of anyone. I said SURE! -- having exactly zero confidence I would really remember it -- and proceeded to belt out the first line before coming to an abrupt stop when I discovered that the Rosh Hoshana version was different than the Shabbat version. Whoops. Sorry everyone, I told them, I guess I don't know this version.

They shrugged and didn't appear to care. Then, when the woman tapped to do motzi couldn't do it, I grabbed the bread right out of her cold, clammy hands and belted it out in all of my a-tonal off-kilter glory.

And THEN, just to really drive the point home, after the meal I launched into an impromptu rendition of Brich Rachamana (a song sung after meals). And despite being one of only two people in the group of 18 who really knew it, I kept plowing ahead. I sang and sang and sang, and if I sounded like hell, I didn't care. There was pretty much nothing that was going to stop me from doing what I was there to do this time around!

Amen.