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| an oldie but a goodie! |
Nu, yesterday I was interviewed by a class of 7-year-olds in their Religion School who wanted to know what rabbis do. They asked some great questions, the very first of which was 'do you ever make mistakes in your Hebrew?' (Of course, I said, but the more I practice, the fewer there are!)
A girl at the back asked why I'd wanted to become a rabbi. I found that both easy and terribly difficult to answer. The easy part was telling them that my father had been a rabbi and rather a good one IMO so I wanted to follow his example. At some point, I don't remember when, I must have mentioned that he had died some time ago.
What felt more difficult was how to explain why I love what a rabbi does. I looked at the class, and saw the plastic pots on the tables filled with dark earth into which they'd just planted cress and sprout seeds. I said to them that the best part of being a teacher was that you get to plant seeds and help them to grow, but instead of putting them in the earth, we get to plant them in the hearts and minds of our students. I wasn't sure if I'd explained it well enough. A boy in the middle raised his hand with what looked like an urgent question. His teacher called on him. He looked at me and said gently, "I'm sorry about your Dada."
Happy Tu Bishvat!
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