Va’Yishlach 5768
By Aaron Miller
November 23,2007

I remember calling my grandma to tell her that I got into HUC. After the mazal tovs and the kvelling, she told me in that thick New York accent, “Dah’ling, you know, when your grandfatha’ went to rabbinic school, you know what he said? He said, ‘here’s what you need to get out of rabbinical school- Ya’self. Just come out of rabbinical school with ya’self and you’ll do just fine.’”

Rabbinical school is intense, because over the five year process, we are eased into the role of “Rabbi”. In five years, we learn how to do all the things that rabbis need to know how to do, and it’s a lot more than preachin’ on the pulpit.

Our first year of rabbinical school is about getting to know and love Israel, and so our first year of school is in Jerusalem. I had not yet eaten my first falafel before Hezbollah started firing rockets into Israel. School had not even started, but I knew that rabbinical school would be life-changing and transformative. The war that summer challenged me to see how dire Israel’s security situation truly is.

Being in Israel also taught me the importance of k’lal Yisrael – the Jewish community. There is no experience in the world quite like being a part of a Jewish majority. I remember every year of Mountain Brook cross country, I would have to explain to my coach that I could not run on Rosh Hashanah. Come Yom Kippur, I would have to explain that, no, I also couldn’t run on Yom Kippur, and that yes, Yom Kippur is different than Rosh Hashanah, and that yes, we Jews have a lot of Jewish holidays, and that yes, I would do the make up workouts. In Israel, when you say, “Rosh Hashanah” everyone gets it. When you say “Shabbat” everyone gets it. In fact, in Israel, the only 2 word for Saturday is Shabbat. For everyone, Orthodox, secular, Jews, and non-Jews and everyone in between, the day after Friday is not Saturday, but Shabbat.  And other things too. When you say “kosher” or “seder” or “challah”, everyone gets it. In Israel, Judaism is not something to explain, but something to live. I left Israel knowing how to live as a Jew and a part of k’lal Yisrael.

When Lauren and I got back to the States, I found myself facing a whole other set of rabbinical school challenges. In our second year of school we are assigned monthly student pulpits. Every month, I drive up to a small congregation in Trenton, Michigan. I lead services and go to board meetings and teach adult education and everything else they would need a rabbi to do for the weekend. This past September, I even led High Holy Day services. School started with the High Holy Days right around the corner, and as a part of our student pulpits, we are required to jump in off the deep end and lead Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services on our own. We had to learn all the prayers and sing all the music (Kol Nidre included). We had to write all the sermons and teach all the educational programs. We had to plan all the services and learn all the Torah portions. Everything that my dad does, we had to do, and everything that Jessica does, we had to do (and I hate to admit it, but vocal talent…or lack thereof…is genetic). And we had all of six weeks to learn everything we needed to know before the High Holy Days came around. This was, of course, on top of the eight classes we were taking, and I have never been busier or more challenged in my life.

I remember the “playing rabbi” game during my college experience at Brandeis. I loved it. I led services, I gave sermons every Friday night, I led educational programs, I went to board meetings, I wrote for the Brandeis newspaper, I even did a little fundraising here and there. I had a great time playing rabbi at Brandeis.

Come rabbinical school, I realized that the fun of playing rabbi is like the fun all of us used to have playing house when we were young- it’s really fun when we are little, less fun when it’s for real. Now that I am a rabbinical student, it feels like I am playing rabbi for real. But when it comes down to it, I am only playing rabbi.

I have years until I am ordained and assume the title of Rabbi, and thank goodness. Our curriculum over these years highlights all the things we have no idea how to do. We will learn how to write sermons and eulogies, how to officiate b’nei mitzvahs, and how to do marriage counseling, conversions, and brit milahs. We spend an entire summer just learning how to make hospital visits. On top of all of this, we are required to have student pulpits and to teach religious school. For those you who remember what finals week at college felt like, every week of rabbinical school feels like finals week. Every day is intense, and my grandma, the wife of a former rabbinical student, knows this better than anyone. I can understand why she told me, “Just get out of rabbinic school with ya’self.”

We have something in this week’s parasha that we don’t see too often. Jacob has an experience that leaves him forever transformed. Left alone on the banks of the Jabbok River, an angel engages Jacob in a wrestling match. The angel and Jacob wrestle all night, and by the morning, Jacob has emerged victorious from this mighty struggle. As a result of this transformative experience, the angel changes Jacob’s name to “Israel”, meaning, “I have struggled with God and lived”.

Now here is what is so strange about Jacob’s name change to Israel- For the rest of the parasha, and even for much of his life, Israel is still called regular ole’ Jacob. As soon as Abram’s name is changed to Abraham, and Sarai’s name is changed to Sarah, they are immediately and forever new people with new names. Jacob, on the other hand, even after his life-changing experience of wrestling with an angel and having his name changed to Israel, is still just regular ole’ Jacob. Why does Jacob stay the same, even after his name has been so dramatically transformed to Israel?

Jacob, in this week’s parasha, has wrestled with God, but he still has years and years and years of being Jacob before he truly becomes Israel. Me, I wrestle with Hebrew grammar and Rabbinics and Bible and homiletics, and I have years and years and years before I really become a rabbi, and thank goodness. I have learned enough in the past year to have a good awareness of everything that I still need to learn. So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am thankful that I have years and years to learn what I’ll need to learn. I’ll get out of HUC with myself, hopefully with the title “rabbi” attached, but in the meantime, there are enough Rabbi Miller’s in the world, and there’s no need to hurry.