“What’s it like?”
Growing up as my father’s daughter.
Delivered April 6, 2015 at North Shore Congregation Israel in Glencoe, Ill., on the occasion of Rabbi Steven Mason’s retirement.
I have been asked more times than I can count. So, what is it like to have a father who is a rabbi? And more times than I can count, I’ve answered:
Well, I don’t know. I’ve never had a father who did anything else.
And while this holds true, I don’t think it’s the real question. I think when people ask what it’s like to have a father who is a rabbi, what they really want to know is not, “What is like,” but really, “What is it like to really know the rabbi, to live in his house and eat all his food? And also, so you must be really, really Jewish, right?”
When you add the fact that I’m now a rabbi into the mix, it’s not even a question any more. Generally, when folks find out that I’m a rabbi and my father is also a rabbi — this is even before they learn that my sister in law is a rabbi and my mom is a Jewish educator, and my older brother is a Jewish educator and my husband is a Jewish educator… and my other brother is a straight up mensch — generally when folks learn that both me and my dad are rabbis, the response is just, ‘whoa.’
They may still wonder what it’s like, but aren’t even sure what to ask. So tonight, I’d like to tell you a little bit about what it’s like to have a father who is a rabbi. And more specifically, what it is like to have Steve Mason as a dad.
There are the regular fad things. For example, that his pet peeve is when we leave a pile of shoes by the door, or that he eats the same thing for breakfast every day. And there are the special things. The things that I assume only happen when your father is a rabbi.
As a kid, my friends all assumed that we had to talk about the Torah portion over the dinner table, or that I knew all the rules for every holiday. I assure you it wasn’t like that.
What I remember is my dad telling our babysitters what to do if someone calls and says that their loved one has died.
I remember trying to get around the rules at a youth group event in Buffalo by snidely saying, “Don’t you know who my father is?” I got in big trouble for that one.
I remember him leaving a family vacation early because of a death in the congregation.
I remember Wednesday nights being sacred time with Dad — while our mom was working, we would go out for chicken fingers and french fries.
So what is it like to be a rabbi whose father is a rabbi? For starters, I hear him in my head when I read the kaddish list. His tone and his pace comes out of my mouth, slow and steady. And I tend to give sermons with at least three endings, too.
When you are a rabbi who has a dad for a rabbi, you make a different kind of vacation plan: Dad, I promise that someday, we’ll go to Jerusalem and study at Hartman together.
While many of my colleagues have had a number of bosses and mentors, my dad has been a consistent source of rabbinic advice and role modeling.
He is there when I have a Jewish question that I don’t just think, but know is really silly. He is there when I’m afraid — like the time I called in a panic before an uncomfortable hospital visit. When you’re a rabbi whose dad is a rabbi, you can be completely vulnerable. You can call in tears. You can admit that sometimes, you really have no idea what you’re doing.
Because he has been my picture of what a rabbi is my whole life, his way has stuck with me as the right way. In his work, he has always stressed the importance of returning phone calls and e mails quickly. Showing up early. The careful and always difficult balance of devotion to both work and family. But what has stayed with me most deeply, when I think about what I have learned from him both as a rabbi and as a father is the importance of being absolutely authentic in work and in life. So for those of you who wonder: What is it like to live in his house, to eat his food, for the rabbi to give you your first driving lesson? Very likely, it is what you would imagine — because when you listen to him preach, or teach, or play guitar you are seeing him panim-el-panim, face to face in the purest sense. This is a man who doesn’t fake it, ever.
So what is it like to have a father who is a rabbi? What is it like to have Steve Mason as a dad?
I can tell you that I am profoundly privileged. Because in addition to being my father, I get to have Steve Mason as a rabbi, too.
