Of the many intriguing threads woven throughout this issue of Gleanings, the most colorful and strongest are the threads of commitment and passion. These perspectives demonstrate the depth of caring about our missions and, more importantly, our drive to guide people to realize our vision. Each of our authors has asked us to set aside “traditional” notions of leadership, to think about teams and fostering networks of supporters. Each has reminded us to connect, even with our weaker links, so that we may facilitate meaningful change.

Ultimately, our most powerful tools are those of reflection, deep listening, and perspective—considering the views of others and bringing curious inquiry to our interactions rather than assuming intentions. We should not be surprised that the Torah examples cited underscore our contemporary reflections. I am heartened that our tradition reinforces the practice of creating strong networks so we can bring change to our own institutions and organizations that will impact the larger field. My lingering question is offered as a hope: Will we give ourselves the space to tumble and to learn together? For then, we will realize our potential to make a lasting difference.

Dr. Ray Levi is the director of the Day School Leadership Training Institute.

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Leadership can feel like a heavy word. Images of us and them may come to mind; we may think of Moses speaking to the people of Israel from the top of a mountain, a cantor chanting from the pulpit, or a school principal convening a staff meeting. There is, however, an inherent danger in this notion of us and them, or simply an image of one person at the top as the leader with no community responsibility other than to blindly follow. It implies a lack of symbiosis and a stagnation of roles. Might true leadership be just the opposite? I was thinking about this recently in perhaps an atypical environment for leadership development, a children’s gym.

As a parent, one of my most gratifying experiences is watching my children cultivate a new interest. Everything is brand new to them, and it fascinates me to see what catches their attention and why they pursue certain avenues and activities and avoid others. My son, Elias, decided to take up tumbling, so we found ourselves in a children’s gym where he and his peers could move through various physical activities. The children were allowed the opportunity to experiment in a safe space to experience both failure and success.

Elias, at first afraid and unsure, observed his peers taking risks. He wasn’t alone. Though they worked as a group, as a community, each individual child’s experience was unique as he/she tested his/her own limits in a place where an adult was always present and where there were soft mats to break a fall. Elias realized that though he might feel like he was flying through space, he was ultimately tethered to something—and someone—who would provide the support he needed. I watched him morph from the follower who was hesitant and scared to the leader whom others watched. He then was in a position to foster his peers’ strength and bravery.

The leadership and support around my son inspired his own risk-taking, and then he began inspiring others. The community provided a safe space for others to become leaders and became an ongoing source for these leaders to support and learn from each other. Isn’t that the essence of leadership?

I bring this lens to my role as executive director of Matan, a non-profit organization that aims to make Jewish education accessible to all learners regardless of ability. I may be seen as a “leader” in Jewish special education and inclusion. However, our mission and philosophy is to empower others to lead. We aim to avoid the us/them mentality that is especially detrimental when we talk about disabilities. Indeed, our community is only complete when we recognize the gifts of every individual. Matan’s contribution is to create and nurture a community of empowered and passionate leaders willing to tumble.

Our Leadership Institutes and other national training opportunities ensure that those on the front lines of Jewish education are armed with the knowledge, skill-sets and resources required for systemic change in Jewish education programs nationwide vis-à-vis inclusion. Most significantly, we are nurturing advocates and leaders. For far too long, an “us/them” framework for Jewish inclusion efforts has rested on the shoulders of a few dedicated professionals and the parents of children with special needs. Through training and more importantly through building leadership while in a community, educators are able to think deeply about inclusion, gain confidence with their peers in how to make change, and translate that into success in their own institutions. All members of the Matan community can then see themselves as change agents, playing a crucial role in changing the fabric of Jewish life when it comes to the inclusion of individuals with special needs.

Are these new leaders and advocates now experts in the field of Jewish inclusion, special needs, and disabilities? More so than before perhaps, but the Matan community remains a place to discuss challenges and successes with colleagues from around the country. In fact, participants in Matan’s trainings report that the most powerful aspect is being able to learn from each other—not just the inclusion experts or internationally renowned speakers with whom we work, but their own colleagues. Community nurtures the leadership potential of each of its members, listening and learning as they evolve from inclusion followers to true inclusion leaders.

Through this balance of individual and community leadership, we empower educators to create a shared organizational vision for inclusion, to experiment and make it their own, and carve out their own path. We ask them to “tumble,” sometimes achieving success, other times wrestling with failure, but always having a soft mat, a tether to Matan, and their newfound network of colleagues from which to draw support.

Leadership is one’s ability to guide, inspire, and “move the needle,” while conveying both in deed and in word that it’s okay not to have all the answers. Leaders who are developed and nurtured through community are constantly nurtured, always making room for others to foster their skills and strengths, and thus are able to help make a difference on the most pressing issues and cause in our field. Care to tumble?

Dori Frumin Kirshner is the executive director of MATAN, which significantly impacts the field of Jewish special needs education by training current and future leaders in a multitude of settings. Prior to coming to Matan, Dori worked at the UJA-Federation of New York for seven years, in both planning and fundraising capacities. Dori began her professional career at the Solomon Schechter School of Manhattan as a bilingual educator (Hebrew and English). Dori holds an MA in Education from The Jewish Theological Seminary and a BA in Sociology and Judaic Studies from Emory University. Dori is a sought-after national speaker on the issue of Jewish inclusion and has published articles in such publications as the New York Jewish Week, eJewish Philanthropy, and Zeh Lezeh, a blog of the Ruderman Family Foundation.

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Leaders cannot lead alone. Without a community around them, they would have no one to lead, and no one to turn to for advice. The best leaders seek out places where they can be both challenged and nurtured in order to reach their highest potential. The Rabbis Without Borders Network is a case study that demonstrates how a rich, diverse, challenging, and safe place enables leaders to think, explore, and imagine together, and therefore become more confident, transformative, and relatable leaders.

Rabbis Without Borders (RWB) is a pluralistic network of 200 rabbis who begin their association by being selected to be part of a 20-person cohort. During the cohort year, the rabbis are exposed to a number of different ideas designed to stimulate their own creative thinking on how best to integrate Jewish wisdom with modern life. The cohort group is intentionally diverse, with a mix of ages, denominations, parts of the country, and areas of the rabbinate represented. In addition, the rabbis have many different individual political positions and varying relationships with God and Jewish tradition. As the cohort gets to know each other, a safe space is established. Everyone is encouraged to share his/her own views and ideas, since only by speaking and listening to one another can we learn from one another. Participants are expected to listen to the opinion of a colleague with whom they do not agree, and are taught through several exercises how to practice this listening technique.

One of the first things that happen in the group is that stereotypes and assumptions are broken down. The rabbis learn that there are right-wing conservative Republican Reform rabbis and left-wing liberal Democrat Orthodox rabbis. They learn that some liberal rabbis are stricter about what they see as within the bounds of Judaism than their more “traditional” counterparts. Once the rabbis are able to see each person in the room as an individual and not just a representative of a particular denomination or a position on the halakhic spectrum, they are more open to learning about that person and what is important to them. As the rabbis get to know each other, trust begins to build, which carries across the cohort year and into the network. The trust that is established between the rabbis allows everything else to grow. Significant time is used to build relationships in the initial cohort and in subsequent annual RWB retreats.

It is essential to emphasize the importance of this psychological shift in truly seeing the individual. Once this shift occurs, the rabbis learn how not to prejudge any individual, how to be open to hearing what the person is sharing, and how not to have a knee-jerk reaction. After experiencing this session, one rabbi shared how he went home to have a meeting with one of his most difficult congregants. In the past he often lost his composure with this person. However, the rabbi said, this time, he was able to take a step back and see this person in a different light. He understood that this person’s issues had nothing to do with him as the rabbi and everything to do with her own history. Instead of reacting negatively, he was able to listen to her in a new way and they made progress on a number of fronts. Another rabbi reported how in the past, she often had a knee-jerk “no” reaction when congregants asked her to consider new ideas, especially those she considered to be outside the bounds of Jewish law. After her RWB experience, she learned to pause and to truly listen to what was being proposed. She found herself much more open to new ideas. She has now experimented with several new programs and ritual experiences in her congregation, and is surprised how invigorated both she and the congregation are.

This openness allows tight bonds to be formed between the rabbis as well. After the initial cohort year, the rabbis join the larger RWB Network. Connections between rabbis in different cohorts are ongoing through online and alumni gatherings. Faculty from Clal, the National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership, who oversee RWB, are available for ongoing coaching and advising, and often make connections between rabbis who are working in similar areas, either geographically or topically. Because the open, pluralist values of the group have already been well established, the rabbis feel comfortable sharing ideas and challenging each other to think outside the box. Two-thirds of the rabbis in the RWB Network report being in touch with other rabbis in the network at least once a month. Thirty percent of those rabbis communicate with each other once a week. This is a leadership network in action, a constant reverberation of connections among rabbis to stimulate creative thinking for each involved.

In addition to the safe, pluralist environment that is created, this network approach stimulates creativity by promoting the value of positivity and optimism. Barbara Frederickson, a positive psychologist, writes about the “broaden and build” theory of positive emotions in her book Positivity. Her research demonstrates what seems like common sense: When people feel positive they are more open to trying new ideas and creating new things. When people feel bad, they get stuck in a small space and fear change.

While many in the Jewish world bemoan shrinking synagogue attendance and other markers of traditional Jewish observance, rabbis in this network see possibility and promise. Reframing the conversation about Jewish life in a positive lens changes the paradigm of how Jewish thought conversations work. In the RWB Network, rabbis at any stage of their careers can reimagine how they teach, preach, and share Jewish wisdom with others. The overwhelming majority of rabbis from RWB report that the network has encouraged them to experiment with new ideas and programs and not to fear failure. Ninety-one percent of RWB Fellows have created new programs or approaches to programming in their synagogue/organization since participating; 81 percent report an increase in attendance at their services and programs because they have initiated new ideas.

Several rabbis have since founded their own communities or organizations as a result of RWB. One rabbi reported, “I never would have had the confidence to start my community without the support of the RWB Network. I know I can turn to my colleagues to ask questions, think through big ideas, and get support when I need it. The Clal faculty has been incredibly helpful advising me on visioning, community organizing, and fundraising.” Another shared, “In my own community, I always feel like I am going out on a limb. That is a scary place to be. Now, I feel like there are lots of people out there with me.” It takes courage to try out new ideas, to experiment with an age-old tradition, to reinterpret classic understandings of text. Very few people can do it alone. Having a space where they can share ideas without fear, where colleagues will take the time to comment, give honest feedback, and support them in their endeavors, has given them the opportunity to try new things.

To be clear, the positive energy that is infused throughout the RWB Network does not block out serious disagreements and challenges the rabbis have with each other. Several intense conversations have occurred around Israeli/Palestinian issues. Others have debated the pros and cons of intermarriage. Still others have grappled with the changing nature of sexual and gender identity playing out in our larger society. What sets this network apart is that these conversations happen in a way that everyone feels heard and respected. Using their improved listening skills, the rabbis acknowledge when they’ve heard the truth of another point of view even if they still don’t agree with the larger opinion. No one walks away from the table angry. Though the issues may not be resolved, everyone learns from the conversations and, in turn, is better equipped to have these conversations in an open manner with their communities and congregants. They are practicing and modeling pluralist dialogue within the network so that they can be stronger leaders, breaking through that which divides communities at home.

“It’s lonely at the top.” It is a cliché, but it holds true, especially for rabbis; whether they work in synagogues, schools, campuses, or hospitals, they can feel as if they are working alone. Major decisions about how to deal with sensitive situations, how to lead a community, or how to respond to an individual or communal crisis fall to them. Establishing leadership networks and finding a safe space to vision, think creatively, and innovate may be difficult, yet is essential for successful rabbinic work. Harnessing the power of a leadership network strengthens the leadership potential of each individual and will lead to a richer, more flourishing Jewish community as a whole.

Rabbi Rebecca W. Sirbu is the director of Rabbis Without Borders at Clal—the National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership. Named as one of the most innovative Jewish organizations in America by the Slingshot Guide, Rabbis Without Borders stimulates and supports creativity in religious life. Rabbi Sirbu was named one of the “Most Inspirational Rabbis in America” by the Forward. She is a speaker, writer, and prominent voice on social media on a variety of issues related to religion in America today. She is published in several books—I Am Here: The Untold Stories of Everyday People; Faithfully Feminist: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Women on Why They Stay, and The Sacred Calling: Forty Years of Women in the Rabbinate—and is a regular contributor to eJewish Philanthropy among other publications. She manages and writes for the Rabbis Without Borders blog on myjewishlearing.com. In addition, she consults with synagogues, organizations, and individuals on leadership development, building creative capacity, actualizing ideas, and working across religious and cultural borders. Prior to her work at Clal, she was the director of the Center for Jewish Life at JCC MetroWest in West Orange, New Jersey, and a chaplain at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. A Phi Beta Kappa graduate of Vassar College, she holds a master’s degree and ordination from The Jewish Theological Seminary. She tweets at @rabbirebecca and @rwbclal.

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Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach taught that the Jewish people are like a Torah scroll. Just as one or two damaged letters will render an entire Torah scroll unusable, so too is the importance of each unique individual in forming the whole that is the Jewish people.

My perspective on leadership has been informed by my own Jewish upbringing. As a teenager I was deeply influenced and impacted by two, at the time, living Jewish leaders: the Lubavitcher Rebbe—Menachem Mendel Schneerson—and Carlebach. Vastly different in many ways, I would posit that they were remarkably similar in at least one respect: namely that these were two of the greatest advocates and promoters of bringing different Jews together into one space. They certainly took divergent positions on Jewish observance and politics, and may have had different motivations for their outreach, but one could argue that each has been widely recognized for their open doors and active engagement of all Jews.

Their leadership impacted Orthodox Jews and non-Orthodox alike, including myself, a student activist who grew up in a non-Orthodox home. Both of these leaders left the world in a five-month span in the summer and fall of 1994, and in the two decades since their passing, no single Jewish leader, in my opinion, has emerged to fill their shoes in promoting an engagement to all Jews as a cornerstone of their leadership.

This void is noticeable. Today, we find ourselves in a period of time when tension and disagreement in the Jewish community are on the rise and arguably creating more division. Connection to and support for the State of Israel among the Jewish community are no longer givens. Many communities embrace pluralism and inclusivity, but others are closing themselves off behind boundaries that they cannot, or will not, bend to accept non-traditional Jewish identities. When it comes to service and tikkun olam, communities are choosing to either look inward and help themselves or to look outward and ally with other communities who are struggling in ways that Jews remember all too well in our history.

The problem is not a failure to engage with the subject matter. Leaders today are broaching these difficult subjects, and many Jewish leaders have emerged as articulate advocates for various positions, eloquently connecting their causes and perspectives to Jewish texts and values. It is, however, a failure to acknowledge, respect, and engage with other perspectives. It is a failure to show respect for other views, even—especially—when they are not one’s own. To borrow a note from the Allman Brothers, we need more leaders to personify the adage “I respect your right to be wrong.” We need Jewish leaders to strengthen and embrace all Jews as a prevailing value by modeling understanding of and empathy for other perspectives, despite fundamentally disagreeing with them. This, I believe, is the essence of Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh L’Zeh.

In our age of unprecedented connectivity, we have ample opportunities to connect with people, learn about their perspectives, and allow their perspectives to shift our own—in theory. In practice, our connectivity has led to our comfort zones becoming even more comfortable, as we immerse ourselves—both online and off—with our friends whose posts often reflect our own thoughts and opinions. Rather than broaden our perspectives, many of our cutting-edge tools to stay connected have actually presented us with roomy echo chambers in which to incubate our preexisting notions.

But there is a way to avoid the echo chamber, to see strength in others with whom we have weak ties. A refreshing example of this was at the 10th ROI Summit in Jerusalem this summer. I had the privilege of witnessing unexpected connections form between people from notably different perspectives and backgrounds: Jews of color, those who are gay, those who are intermarried, Ultra-Orthodox Jews, secular Jews, right-wingers, left-wingers, those with unique abilities, and those with disabilities. I witnessed Jewish leadership in action as I observed the networking and the one-on-one Brain Dates. Nobody was trying to convince his/her peers that his/her particular perspective was absolute truth or why his/her way of life was more correct. They were all engaged in dialogue aimed at expanding their horizons and gaining a greater understanding of how their fellow young Jewish leaders see the world. Despite fundamental differences of opinion, there is still a tremendous amount that can be learned from one another. This is dialogue that makes us as leaders and community members stronger and more thoughtful.

This is one of the remarkable outcomes of the strategic network that is the ROI Community—a wide web of people from all fields under the sun, some of whom maintain close relationships, but many of whom are connected through what network theorists call “weak ties.” The name wouldn’t suggest it, but weak ties are extremely important: while our close friends tend to move in the same circles as we do and are privy to much of the same information as we are, our acquaintances know people that we do not and thus receive more unique information.

By maintaining connections with our “weaker ties,” we allow ourselves to be exposed to perspectives that are fundamentally different from our own, and we give ourselves the chance to grow and be stronger leaders. The interactions between participants at the ROI Summit demonstrated a thirst for this kind of perspective sharing among young Jewish leaders and provided a snapshot of what the Jewish world could look like if this attitude were adopted broadly. It was an image of a Jewish world not in complete agreement, but unified by a curiosity and a regard for differing opinions.

To ensure a strong and united Jewish community, a pipeline of charismatic leaders with articulate, compelling calls-to-action—even if deeply rooted in Jewish values—will not cut it. The type of leadership that will help guide us there will be that which extols the virtues of weak ties, encouraging Jews everywhere to step outside their comfort zones, hear new perspectives, acknowledge them, and respect those who keep them.

Justin Korda is the executive director of ROI Community and has been with ROI since its inception in 2005. Growing up in Montreal, Canada, he saw how young people can truly be instruments for change, thereby setting the stage for a life of Jewish activism. In 1999, he led the first Taglit-Birthright Israel trip from Canada. Justin went on to serve in a number of positions at the Canada-Israel Experience, where he was instrumental in implementing Taglit-Birthright Israel for the initial 5,000 Canadian participants. Justin holds an MBA from the Interdisciplinary Center (IDC) Herzliya and a BA in Political Science from McGill University.

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“The biggest challenge in Jewish life today is identifying and cultivating good leadership . . . Tap into your inspiration if you want to lead well.” —Dr. Misha Galperin, Reimagining Leadership in Jewish Organizations (2012)

What inspires Jewish early childhood educators to become leaders today?

As the director of the Jewish Early Childhood Education Leadership Institute (JECELI), which is a partnership between JTS and Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR), I have the privilege of reading the applications of those who wish to be a part of our learning community. Candidates have made the following statements about what inspires them:

• “I enjoy learning. I am very excited by new ideas and stimulating discussions, especially about education. I love the idea of learning for my own personal growth.”
• “I have dedicated myself to being a lifelong learner in the world of Jewish education. I am excited to be able to share my passion for Jewish education and Jewish living with others who feel the same.”
• “I work daily in an environment steeped in Jewish values, customs, and traditions. Now, both in my personal and professional life, I am able to appreciate Judaism and continually learn and grow.”

Inspiration does not necessarily lead to leadership, however. It is the task of the Jewish Early Childhood Education Leadership Institute to turn inspirations into actions that, in turn, inspire others.
JECELI fellows explore their motivations and their values in a Jewish context, primarily through text study, seminars, and dialogue. Experts share knowledge about adult development, and each person explores his or her evolution as human beings, professionals, and Jewish educators. Other facilitators help advance leadership skills, including managing the many challenges that can stand in the way of personal, staff, and school transformations.

To bolster confidence and leadership acumen, each JECELI fellow also works with a mentor and in a mentor group. The mentoring process supports the fellows as they turn their self-knowledge and their motivations into real initiatives within their programs. Each fellow reports on what has happened as a result of their actions based on their inspired learning. Members learn a great deal from each other’s experiences.

In fact, the intensity of the self-examination, the relationships between members of mentor groups, and the shared efforts at changing schools create the alchemy that results in both community and the development of strong leadership.

Fellows reflect on their experiences with statements such as:

“This program has strengthened my confidence and capabilities as a Jewish leader. After my JECELI experience, I will have a community that provides insight, support, and encouragement. This is a program that has helped me look at myself through a professional and spiritual lens . . . [a] lens that has been enriched by providing deeper understanding and meaning to what I do each and every day.”

“My time with JECELI fellows, mentors, and instructors has expanded my professional world; deepened my leadership skills by broadening my understanding of ECE and adult learning practices; reconnected me to Jewish text, ritual, values, and the land of Israel; and provided me with the opportunity to reflect on my own practices.”

One outcome of JECELI has been the Communities of Practice, formed by each of the three successive cohorts, which have emerged from the participants’ own commitment to continue their professional learning and leadership growth together. With the support of the Paradigm Project, our alumni maintain reading groups, webinars, and retreats. Each cohort has developed a brit (covenant) expressed in Jewish language that many of these participants report that they did not know about before JECELI.

Therefore, JECELI’s structure of working “from the inside out” has the potential to change the paradigm for how Jewish early childhood educators work together to advance the field. It also demonstrates that the pursuit of effective leadership is an ongoing enterprise.

JECELI represents one model of educating for leadership. Through self-awareness, collaborating with others, and taking risks to transform our contexts, we can strengthen leadership and change the field. We are not just a group of professionals; we are a committed learning community. What developments might we inspire next in Jewish early childhood education?

Lyndall Miller, MEd, MAJEd, MSEd, is the director of the Jewish Early Childhood Education Leadership Institute (JECELI), a collaborative effort between The Jewish Theological Seminary and Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion.

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Every fall, Repair the World welcomes a new cohort of full-time fellows—young adults who commit to spending a year mobilizing their peers around service and social justice. Each year I am tasked with delivering the following seemingly paradoxical message to them:

We are about to invest tremendous educational resources in you. We are training you, teaching you how to lead, facilitate, deepen relationships, and grow your identity. And yet, this experience is not about you. We expect that everything you learn, every resource we pour into you, will be used to catalyze and transform those around you.

As our name suggests, Repair the World seeks to engage the Jewish community in understanding and pursuing the Jewish mandate of tikkun olam through meaningful volunteer experiences. We are acutely aware of the disparities across American communities. Many individuals and families, including members of the Jewish community, struggle with the impacts of poverty, hunger, education inequalities, racial injustices, and gentrification each day. Inspired by the concept of b’tzelem elohim (all people are created in the divine image), we know that working toward a repaired world means seeking justice and equity for everyone residing in our communities.

Unlike other leadership programs, where the measure of success is the extent to which a fellow feels like a stronger and better leader, for us, success is measured by the extent to which a fellow is able to harness the skills we teach them, successfully pass them along to their peers, and ultimately utilize them in service of repairing this broken world. In fact, fellows are tasked with activating others through listening. We take our guidance from the community we work with, and we attempt to do the difficult work of breaking down the barrier between server and served. This requires that we approach everything with a learning posture and deep humility, prioritizing the building of relationships.

It may appear that teaching service-leadership is a little countercultural and in many ways counterintuitive. It requires teaching a particular brand of humility—how to both value the self and the particular resources we each bring to the table, while at the same time fundamentally decentering the self, in service of the other. Service reminds us that our time and resources ultimately do not belong to us. Rather, we must be constantly redirected to improve our broken world. We see our ultimate task as training our fellows to be bridges between communities that are all too often disconnected.

So how do we achieve this seemingly paradoxical educational approach? As we see our fellows as exemplars of the next generation of Jewish leadership, what are our steps to educate and train them for this enormous responsibility?

We use a peer engagement model, with cohorts of full-time fellows living and serving together for a year. Fellows volunteer with local partners, engage in ongoing Jewish learning about a range of social justice issues, and learn to facilitate others’ learning under the guidance of local City Directors and educators. Fellows use their own volunteer service as the base from which to recruit and engage their peers in service that meets community needs. Fellows model what it means to be in service, while facilitating elu vJewish and issue-based education programs for their peers, empowering them to connect their desire to seek justice to their expression of Jewishness.

To do this work justly and effectively, we work in deep partnership with Jewish communal organizations and marginalized communities by developing trusted relationships through listening to each other and learning together, creating the shared commitments needed to pursue social justice work.

At its core, we aim to teach fellows how to listen and how to act in solidarity, all guided by our Jewish values. The value of listening is instilled throughout Jewish teaching. Among the 48 qualities for acquiring Torah listed in Pirkei Avot, some of the most vital ones are listening, not taking credit for oneself, lack of arrogance in learning, and learning in order to teach. In order to best meet the needs and priorities of our partners and the people they serve, we recognize the importance of sitting down to listen to their experiences, their goals, their challenges, and their values.

We’ve learned we must enter each conversation with humility, acknowledging that our lived experience, challenges, and priorities will not match theirs and that the knowledge they bring to the table is valuable to our own growth and mutual work. To be effective allies and lead effective service learning that inspires our participants to work toward change, we must also learn in order to share this knowledge and these stories.

We strive to teach our fellows that listening is about hearing and appreciating the other’s perspective, especially when what we hear may undercut how we see the world. It’s about interrogating ourselves and who we are, even when it’s tough and even when we discover ways in which, despite our best efforts and despite how we understand ourselves, we too may be contributing toward the injustice around us. Perhaps this is the most important form of listening.

We also grapple with Jewish text, examining texts that appear antithetical to these values and individuals not always thought of as social justice advocates. Rather than avoiding or ignoring these, or labeling them as “irrelevant,” we choose to acknowledge and discuss them. We embrace the concept of elu v’elu (holding two truths together simultaneously), encouraging participants to consider multiple perspectives on an issue. Therefore our fellows challenge themselves and each other to dig deeper as they consider the implications of Jewish wisdom on modern-day issues of social justice and their emerging leadership work in local communities.

How do we foster such an approach? In addition to drawing from our tradition and its approach to listening, we also operate under the assumption of the Law of Correspondence. This means that the community we create internally, as an organization and as a team of fellows, will reflect and, we hope, drive the world we are trying to build externally: one that is open, diverse, and built on authentic, deep relationships that drive at social justice.

Listening is often thought of as a form of calm passivity. Our approach to teaching listening is precisely the opposite. Listening is active and it actualizes itself through action. In our work, we are driven by the fierce urgency of now. We listen best when we are working and acting alongside our community partners and developing and deepening relationships that strengthen our abilities to lead and serve others.

 

Mordy Walfish is vice president for programs at Repair the World. He launched and now runs Repair’s signature Communities Initiative and also oversees Repair’s work nationally to mobilize the Jewish community to volunteer. He joined Repair in 2012, following four years at NYU Wagner as the assistant director of the Berman Jewish Policy Archive. A native of Hamilton, Ontario, Mordy holds a BA in Contemporary Studies and German from the University of King’s College in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and an MA in Comparative Literature from Northwestern University. As a Wexner Graduate Fellow / Davidson Scholar, Mordy also completed an MPA in non-profit management from NYU. Mordy is the winner of the 2015 JPRO Network Young Professional Award and a Schusterman Fellow. He coauthored the 2012 study on compensation patterns in the Jewish community. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.

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[1] The ideas in this article have been shaped through conversation and collaboration with colleagues and teachers, especially Rabbi Seth Goren and Maital Friedman, my colleagues at Repair the World.

Styles of leadership are varied and subtle, offering different paradigms for our consideration. Careful readings of familiar biblical texts offer insights about leadership choice and invite us to consider the intentions of key players.

Genesis 37 provides a rich opportunity for reflecting on these issues. Jacob favors his son Joseph and gives him a special garment, setting Joseph apart from his brothers. To exacerbate matters, Joseph shares his dreams of grandeur that indicate that his brothers, and father and mother, will bow down to him one day. Soon thereafter, Jacob sends Joseph to check on the well-being of his brothers. When the brothers see Joseph approaching from a distance, they conspire to kill him, saying: “Let us slay him, and cast him into one of the pits, and we will say: An evil beast has devoured him; and [then] we shall see what will become of his dreams” (Gen. 37:20).

Then, in a mode of leadership that could be interpreted from many different angles, brother Reuven attempts to save Joseph:

Genesis 21: “And Reuven heard it, and [tried] to deliver him out of their hand; and he said: ‘We shall not take his life.’”

Genesis 22: “And Reuven said to them: ‘Don’t you shed blood; throw him into this pit that is in the wilderness, but lay no hand upon him’—that he might deliver him out of their hand, to restore him to his father.”

Notice: Reuven is speaking in both verses 21 and 22 with no intervening response on the part of his brothers. Nevertheless, the Torah repeats the introductory statement vayomer (he said) as he continues speaking.^[1] Let us explore in more depth.

Identifying The Textual Problem(s)

We have just noticed a common literary phenomenon in the Torah I call the vayomer/vayomer phenomenon^[2] where a character continues speaking while an additional and seemingly superfluous vayomer is inserted.^[3] Noticing the phenomenon is the first step. Understanding why it occurs is the next and more challenging issue. Both traditional Jewish commentators and contemporary translators/commentators are aware of this phenomenon, but do not agree about its function.^[4] We must also pay attention to the following ancillary textual questions that play an important role in the commentators’ various interpretations. Their attention to and interpretation of these textual details and anomalies form the bases of their interpretations:

1. In verse 21, attention to grammar piques our interest: Reuven speaks using the first person plural “we,” in “We shall not take his life,” while using the second person plural “you” in “Don’t you shed blood” in verse 22.
2. The first occurrence of vayomer (verse 22) stands alone with no object, simply “He said.” The second occurrence is followed by the indirect object: “Reuven said to them.”^[5]

Based on these examples, what leadership models are we learning from Reuven and what are the greatest takeaways in understanding leadership in Jewish education?

Models of Leadership: Solutions To The Textual Problem(s) Through The Eyes Of Commentators

1. Netziv’s Reuven

Ha’amek Davar (Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin, The Netziv, 1817–1893, Volozhin, Belarus) proposes the following scenario^[6] based on his attention to the textual details:

The verse [21] does not state “he said to them” as it does in the following verse—because at first Reuven spoke in a very loud voice, speaking to himself [as if to say], “There is absolutely no way we are going to take his life.”

And once the brothers realized they could not oppose Reuven’s feelings and opinion, he continued to speak to them softly [this time], and explained to them why he reacted so strongly.

For the Netziv, the vayomer/vayomer phenomenon indicates that a silent pause occurred between the two statements of Reuven. After Reuven’s forcefully spoken opposition (“We shall not take his life”) to the idea of killing Joseph, he waited for his words to take effect. “And once the brothers realized” they could not oppose Reuven, he calmly explained the rationale for his feelings.

2. Malbim’s Reuven

The Malbim (Meir Leibush ben Yehiel Michel Weiser, 1809–1879, Russia) explicitly articulates our question^[7]: “The text states ‘he said / he said to them’; why two times?” Like the Netziv, Malbim interprets the silence of the text, yet his understanding of the silence is different from the Netziv’s. For him it’s the brothers’ lack of response to Reuven’s repeated attempts to convince them not to harm Joseph:

At first Reuven wanted to save Joseph completely, in a manner that the brothers would not even touch Joseph. That’s what    (he saved him) means—that he tried to save him completely.

But when the brothers did not listen, he said, “Let us not take his life”—at the very least don’t kill him; some other punishment would be sufficient.

But when they did not listen to this either, he said to them, ”At the very least ‘Don’t spill blood’ because you can kill him indirectly by throwing him into this pit where he’ll die of hunger.” . . . The Torah, however, lets us know that Reuven’s true intent was to “save him from their hands.”

Although both the Netziv and the Malbim interpret the silent space between the two occurrences of “he said,” the nature of that space is very different. For the Netziv, the silence represents Reuven calmly waiting for his strongly worded warning to take effect. For the Malbim it represents the brothers ignoring Reuven’s attempts to convince them to allow Joseph to remain unharmed.

Implications Of These Perspectives 

Proactive or Reactive Leadership

Based on these interpretations, different models of leadership emerge. The Netziv’s Reuven is portrayed as a strong leader that doesn’t tolerate dissent while insisting that the brothers not kill Joseph. The Malbim’s Reuven, on the other hand, is portrayed as weak, diminishing his demand each time the brothers do not respond. The Netziv’s Reuven is proactive; the Malbim’s Reuven is reactive. But that’s only at first glance.

Compromising/Negotiating

Upon a more deliberate examination, the Malbim’s Reuven appears to be the consummate diplomat, not despairing or resigning himself to failure, but rather persevering by continuing to negotiate. He also proposes a compromise solution: yes, throw Joseph in the pit, but don’t lay a hand upon him yourselves.

What is especially illuminating is how we may perceive the intentions of those in leadership positions. It is important for us to go beyond our initial responses. Note that the Torah portrays a situation, yet the commentators’ perceptions of Reuven’s motivations and intentions vary. Not only was Malbim’s understanding of Reuven’s motivations different from the Netziv’s, we offered two possible interpretations of Malbim’s explanation of Reuven’s intentions.

So, too, in real life situations we may perceive a leader’s intentions differently from our colleagues.

3. Alshikh’s Reuven

Finally, let’s examine one more model of leadership based on the comment of the Alshikh (Moshe Alshikh, Torat Moshe, 1508–1593, Turkey, Safed), who presents a Reuven who does not respond impulsively in the moment. Alshikh’s Reuven rather carefully reviews the situation and considers his options before speaking to his brothers. Like the Netziv, he bases his interpretation on the movement from first person plural in verse 21 (“We should not kill him”) to second person plural in verse 22 (“Don’t you spill blood”), and the indirect object “to them,” which occurs in verse 22 after “he said” but not after “he said” in verse 21.

Now what did [Reuven] do so they would listen to his words? He pretended that he was one of them wishing to do him [Joseph] harm . . . That’s why he said ”We shall not deal him a deadly blow,” as if to say I am with you, just that it wouldn’t be appropriate that we go so far as to kill him. But he didn’t really mean it, but rather [said it] so they wouldn’t think that he was doing it because of his love of Joseph.

Once they began to be appeased, he then revealed his [true] opinion and said: ”Don’t you spill blood—meaning I never intended to spill blood, just you alone, and to you I am saying “Don’t do what you’re intending.” He, therefore, did not say, “We shall not spill blood.” And furthermore, my suggestion to throw him into the pit, [does] not [mean] that I am joining you, heaven forbid, but rather that you do it yourselves. And that’s why he said, “[You] throw him in the pit.”

And therefore, this verse, once again, states “Reuven said” even though Reuven is still speaking. And that’s also the reason for the superfluous “to them.” All because his [Reuven’s] first words were not his true intentions; while his true words [which were uttered] with all his heart were “don’t [you] spill blood,” which was [directed] “to them.”

Implications Of This Perspective

As Reuven becomes attuned to the realities of the situation, the concept of mindful leadership is introduced.^[8]

According to the Alshikh, Reuven offers a model of leadership that is mindful of the emotional/psychological aspects of the situation at hand. While the brothers are caught up in the moments of anger and rage and impulsively planning to kill Joseph, Reuven is cognizant of the mob mentality at play. He is aware that in those moments of intense anger, he might not be able to convince the brothers to cease with their plan to kill Joseph, and might even fan the flames of anger, exacerbating the situation. The brothers might even turn on Reuven.

The Alshikh asks, “What does Reuven do so that the brothers might listen to him?” He pretends to be one of them by speaking in the first person plural saying, “We shouldn’t go so far as to kill him.” In other words, Reuven implies, “I’m with you. Just let’s not go so far as to kill him.” But once some time has elapsed and the brothers begin to calm down, Reuven tells the brothers how he really feels: “Don’t you spill blood. Don’t, for a moment think that I am joining you. Don’t you spill blood . . . throw him into this pit.” Reuven’s intent, of course, as the verse concludes was to have the brothers throw Joseph in the pit so he could return later and save Joseph.

The Alshikh’s Reuven displays a model of leadership that is deliberate and meets others where they are at the moment rather than reacting hastily. It carefully takes into consideration the emotional state of others in order to achieve a positive outcome for the benefit of all parties involved, if possible.

Conclusion 

The analysis of the vayomer/vayomer phenomenon led to an examination of three (or more) modes of leadership and an opportunity to consider for ourselves not only what our preferred styles of leadership in situations may be, but also where one of the styles might be more appropriate than the others. We were also asked to consider how a particular action may be calculated and perceived based on our motivations and that of others. The lessons from Reuven, and the interpretations from the Netziv, Malbim, and Alshikh, are important references for us as we confront dilemmas in our daily work and are called upon to exercise mindful, reflective leadership.

Dr. Walter Herzberg is assistant professor of Bible and Professional and Pastoral Skills at JTS. He guides students in the classroom and online in the reading of the Bible using a methodological approach and integrating modern, literary, close-reading techniques with the study of traditional Jewish commentary.

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[1] The NJPS translation actually addresses the problem by translating the second vayomer, not as “Reuven said,” but rather, “Reuven went on.”

[2] The term “iterated quotation formula” is used at times in academic literature.

[3]  Other examples of the phenomenon: Gen. 15:1–5; Gen. 16: 9–11; Exod. 1:15–16; Num. 32:1–5.

[4]  Among them, Ibn Ezra (12th century), Radak (12th/13th centuries), Abarbanel (15th/16th centuries), Alshikh (16th century), Or Hahayyim (18th century), Malbim (19th century), U. Cassuto (20th century), Nechama Leibowitz (20th century), Robert Alter (contemporary).

[5] In other words the verses are not parallel: verse 22 states that Reuven spoke “to them,” while verse 21 simply states that “he spoke,” omitting “to them.” Note also that verse 21 mentions that “he spoke,” while verse 21 states “Reuven spoke.”

[6] He often provides interpretations by filling in details that, in a sense, serve as stage directions. See his comment on Exod. 32:19, second entry.

[7] Malbim prefaces his comments with a list of questions, thereby following in the footsteps of Abarbanel whom the Malbim considered among the greatest of the commentators.

[8] As the Rabbis state in the Ethics of the Fathers: do not appease your friend at the height of his anger (Avot 4:18).