Chevrei:
It always feels so natural to me to begin my column with this salutation. "Chevrei" is a sort of slang version of "Chaverei"--"my friends", but connotes a certain familiarity, an intimacy. It is a salutation that might be used on a kibbutz in Israel or when addressing your apartment-mates in Tel Aviv. When I attend cantors' conferences I am often aware of the formality that exists between most clergy and their communities and I have always felt grateful for the more intimate, familiar culture that exists in our community.
I have noted recently that more than one of our members has, very quietly and nicely, approached me to say that in impromptu exchanges (in the social hall during a Shabbat oneg, or in the main hall before services, for example) I have come across as less than warm, less than friendly. In a couple of cases, the people who spoke to me wondered if I were actually unhappy with them for some reason. My grandma Belle, of blessed memory, used to say, "If one person tells you that you are drunk, you can ignore him, but if ten people tell you, then you should go lie down." (You can see I come from a long line of wise and noble thinkers ....) When one Adat Shalom member approached me about my behavior, I dismissed it, but now more than one has seen cause to ask about my sometimes cool countenance. So, I am trying to pay attention.
I admit this is a long-standing personality trait of mine, and it almost always has nothing to do with my relationship with the people who may feel slighted by my lack of grace. As a teen, my mother, with whom I share a very warm (sometimes too warm?) relationship, used to call me the "ice princess." I, of course, would roll my eyes and continue doing my hair.
In fact, I am aware of sometimes blowing by our members too quickly, too coolly. Here is a sampling of what is going on in my mind when you see me doing this:
"Did I get the songsheets out in time? Did I remember to tune my guitar, remember to bring the capo from my office? [try to smile at the new member walking by--what is his name again?] Did I remember to mention to Rabbi Fred or Rabbi Sid about the special new melody I want to teach, or where in the service I will need an extra minute to explain a part of a prayer [oh, there is _____________, the mother of the bar Mitzvah for next week, and I must remember to speak to her about ___________] Do I have time to use the bathroom before the concert/service/class starts? Should I go pick up my kids, or wait for Jonathan to get them?"
You get the idea. Of course, if I have one of my boys with me, then I may be focused on them even if it does not look that way. My eyes are looking straight ahead trying to navigate the crowd for my three-year old, but my ears are cocked in his direction listening to his stories and needs.
Finally, I have begun to learn recently about something called ‘sensory integration dysfunction’ because my older son seems to suffer from it. As I learn about his struggles, I come to recognize my own. Leading hundreds or even thousands in prayer, when everyone is focused on the same thing, is easy for me. On the other hand, walking into a crowded lunch room or a havdallah-cocktail party is often challenging for me. While I love singing and laughter, simultaneous and parallel conversation is unnerving for me. I cannot easily filter out background noise, nor can I easily ignore "background" people, so focusing on one person, one conversation is sometimes difficult.
So, the next time you see me walking down the hall and rather than a smile and a hello you get a vacant stare, please try to understand that it is in no way personal. Think to yourself, "she must be distracted. I will try and catch up with her later or better yet, during the week, when I can have her full attention." I, on the other hand, will continue to try and live up to the ideal of our familial culture and, knowing I am among friends, try and relax a little!
B’vracha,
(Cantor) Rachel