A Kingdom of Priest - It Applies To All Jews
March 17, 2007

When you are young and brash, you do things impetuously. You don’t always go through the proper channels. That pretty much described my actions when I assumed a new pulpit in 1974. I was in my early thirties with all of five years experience in the rabbinate.

One Friday night I appeared before the congregation wearing a suit and talit, but no robe. That was pretty radical in those days. Some of you are old enough to remember the time when rabbis always wore a robe when conducting services, black for ordinary times and white on the High Holidays.

As soon as that service was over, congregants, including a past president, came up to me visibly distraught. “Rabbi, why aren’t you wearing a robe? Our previous rabbis always wore one. And didn’t the cohanim, the religious leaders in ancient times, wear special attire?”

I took a deep breath and then explained my reasons to them. First I admitted that the cohanim of ancient times did indeed wear distinctive attire. How could I deny it? The description of their unique clothing appears several times in the torah including today’s torah reading. In fact, I will hold up an artist’s reconstruction of what that special attire may have looked like.

After admitting that the cohanim of yore did indeed clothed themselves in a special way as mandated by the torah, I explained to my congregants why a rabbi today should not follow that example. First of all, wearing a black robe is borrowed from Protestant Christian practice. When Protestantism first emerged several centuries ago, its clergy distinguished itself by its academic credentials. In contrast to the Catholic priest whose schooling was parochial and who knew just enough to carry out his religious functions, the Protestant Minister was a scholar or aspired to be one. You may know that this nation’s first colleges, such as Harvard and Yale, were founded as Protestant divinity schools whose mission was to provide ministers with a broad, classical education, including Hebrew language, incidentally. Originally, the black robes worn by Protestant ministers were academic gowns, a sign that the minister was a doctor of theology.

Rabbis started wearing gowns two centuries ago in imitation of their Protestant colleagues. The rebellion against this practice, of which I was a part, was a way of saying I, as a rabbi, don’t need to imitate a non-Jewish custom. Wearing a talit is sufficient regalia.

That was one reason I stopped wearing a robe. But now let me tell you the most important reason I don’t wear a gown or any other garment that would distinguish me as a rabbi. The cohanim of ancient times were commanded by the torah to wear distinctive clothing because the cohayn was to be set apart from the ordinary Israelite. The cohayn operated in a special sphere – the tabernacle in the wilderness described in today’s torah reading, and later the Temple in Jerusalem. The tabernacle and the Temple had sacred precincts where only the cohayn could go. The synagogue today has no such precincts. The elevated holiness of the ancient Temple, according to Jewish law, is not found in today’s synagogue. There are no sacred spaces to which I, as clergy, have access but which are forbidden to you.

Just as today’s synagogue is not the equivalent of the Temple in Jerusalem, the rabbi who officiates in the synagogue is not the equivalent of the Temple priest. The cohayn dressed in unique attire to symbolize his special privileges and power. A rabbi has neither. A rabbi is no different from any ordinary Jew other than the fact they he or she has years of Seminary training. A rabbi has neither more power nor more obligations than any other individual in the congregation.

That means that as a rabbi I have no more responsibility and no less responsibility than you do to observe the Sabbath, the dietary laws, the holy days or any other aspect of Judaism. It is true American Jews have come to expect that the rabbi to be more observant than the laity, to carry out what the typical congregant fails to do. But there is no basis for this idea in Jewish theology and Jewish law. The rabbi is not meant to be holier than anyone other Jew. The torah instructs us, collectively, to be a kingdom of priests, mamlechet cohanim. That means that each and every Jew has been elevated to the same high status with identical obligations and responsibilities to study and practice Judaism and to carry out its ideals.

My refusal to wear a robe thirty-three years ago was my way of stating that I am not my congregants’ surrogate in the practice of Judaism. My observance of Shabbat, kashrut, the holy days and my maintaining the moral principles of Judaism is for myself and not for anyone else. The Jewishness of a congregant’s home is not enhanced one iota because in my home on Shabbat candles are lit, kiddush is recited and the motzi is made over the challah.

Your Jewish home, your Jewish identity, your Jewish way of life is created by your own efforts and commitment. No one can observe Judaism for you. No one can make your home a Jewish home vicariously. You do it yourself by keeping Jewish traditions, by teaching Jewish values to your children, by filling your home with Jewish books, Jewish music and Jewish art.

I stand before you with no robes of office. I am a Jew no different from any other. I am simply a person trying my best to be a member in good standing of the brit, the covenant, the Jewish people has established with God.

Instead of standing apart from you, differentiated by vestments of my calling, I wish to stand with you. I invite you to join with me as equal partners in striving together to live a life of devotion to Judaism’s practices and principles. I invite you to join me in living by Judaism’s highest moral values. I invite you to stand with me as we dedicate ourselves to God’s service and to pursuing the aspirations and dreams of the Jewish people.

Shabbat shalom