I don't know the answer to that, but it does allow me to quote (for the first time) and great Simpsons exchange from the great episode Homerpalooza:
Homer: So, I realized that being with my family is more important than being cool.
Bart: Dad, what you just said was powerfully uncool.
Homer: You know what the song says: "It's hip to be square".
Lisa: That song is so lame.
Homer: So lame that it's... cool?
Bart+Lisa: No.
Marge: Am I cool, kids?
Bart+Lisa: No.
Marge: Good. I'm glad. And that's what makes me cool, not caring, right?
Bart+Lisa: No.
Marge: Well, how the hell do you be cool? I feel like we've tried everything here.
Homer: Wait, Marge. Maybe if you're truly cool, you don't need to be told you're cool.
Bart: Well, sure you do.
Lisa: How else would you know?
Amen to that.
And Shana tova to all.
2 comments:
It begs the question of what is in a title? When did we earn the title rabbi? Have we earned it yet? Just because people call us that, doesn't mean we deserve it. But what determines deserving? Is the the amount of Torah we study -- or the amount of people we impact? Or both? I've found that it's easy to be called rabbi, and even respected as a rabbi, but more difficult to view myself as a rabbi.
Here's a funny related story. A couple of weeks ago at the minyan at Harvard, someone was giving a dvar Torah on Friday evening and wanted to reference something I had said during one my high holiday sermons. She started by saying, "just as Ethan said--" then changed her mind and went with "rabbi Linden" but (and here's the kicker) she put finger quotes around the word "rabbi." So, am I to be offended by this, or pleased, or baffled? Does the fact that my rabbiness is not so overwhelming make me more effective, or less? I suppose that this depends somewhat on the populations I am dealing with.
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