Inspiration can come from the most unexpected places. This week, it came from going to church.
I was thinking about what I might say on this UJA Shabbat, as we honor outgoing CEO Eric Goldstein, when, on Thursday evening, I found myself at 51st and Fifth, sitting in St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I was there for Vespers, what we Jews would call ma’ariv, evening prayers, at a special service held for the installation of New York’s new Archbishop, Ronald Hicks. Hicks strikes me as a great guy, a leader and a mensch, exactly what one would expect from someone who spent the first part of his ministry in Chicago.
His homily, unexpectedly, was based not on a text but on a statue—the Atlas statue at the entrance of Rockefeller Center, directly across the street from St. Patrick’s. It is one of the most recognizable works of public art in our city. Installed in 1937, designed by Lee Lawrie, and featured at the beginning of the TV show “30 Rock” the gilded bronze statue stands forty-five feet high, depicting Atlas, the titan of Greek mythology, holding up the heavens. Atlas is shown kneeling, muscles straining, bearing not the earth but an armillary sphere—a representation of the celestial order, with zodiac signs etched into its rings. This is not Atlas crushed by chaos, but Atlas sustaining the cosmic order. Archbishop Hicks juxtaposed Atlas – the burdened figure of strength and strain – with the church itself, physically and spiritually across the street. While the statue suggests that the weight of the cosmos rests on Atlas’s shoulders, the church proclaims that cosmic order is held in the hand of Jesus. Two visions of leadership: one grounded in effort, strain, and strength; the other in grace, transcendence, and faith.
As I listened to the archbishop’s reflections on Greek mythology and Christian theology, I found myself wondering: what is our model, the Jewish model? Which brings me to this week’s Torah reading. In Exodus 18, following the splitting of the sea but before the giving of the Torah, Yitro, Moses’s father-in-law, arrives for a visit. Having heard, Rashi explains, of both the glory and the battles of the Israelites, Yitro arrives to find Moses overwhelmed, straining under the weight of leadership. Lo tov ha-davar asher atah oseh, the thing you are doing is not right. You will surely wear yourself out.
V’atah shema b’koli i·atz’kha, now listen to me – four words every son-in-law just loves to hear from his father-in-law. Yitro instructs Moses to appoint leaders, leaders who meet four criteria: anshei hayil, people of strength; yirei Elohim, God-fearing leaders; anshei emet, people of truth; and sonei betza, those who spurn ill-gotten gain.
The rabbis, not surprisingly, have a field day unpacking these qualities. Anshei hayil meaning not physical strength, but strength of character – leaders chosen for their competence, moral independence, and stamina to govern. Yir’ei Elohim – leaders who act not only with restraint, but with accountability to something greater than themselves, the people of Israel. Anshei emet are truth-tellers—people who can be relied upon to speak honestly, even when that truth is uncomfortable or unpopular. And sonei betza are those who spurn ill-gotten gain, givers, not takers – leaders uninterested in personal enrichment and committed instead to giving of their own resources to advance the common good. Four qualities which, though interpreted differently by different commentators, advance the same thesis: Moses, you cannot do it alone. You must surround yourself with great people, with great qualities, or you will collapse under the strain.
Eric, on behalf of the Park Avenue Synagogue family, our gratitude for – and admiration of – you knows no bounds. From a career in law, you were called to serve, to advance both the glory and the battles of our people. Through crisis, through COVID, through war, you have led with a steady hand, always raising the bar, always reminding us, again and again, of UJA’s central importance. On a personal level, you have been a colleague, a mentor, and a friend to me, and it has been a deep honor to champion UJA under your leadership. But most of all, in the spirit of our Torah reading, you have taught us that the well-being of our community is upheld not by you or by any single person, but by being surrounded by the very best professionals, lay leaders, philanthropists, and partners. Eric, you have modeled this at every step of the journey – an example and a lesson for which I am deeply grateful – and one I will carry with me long after you take your leave.
All of which is, of course, as much a tribute to you as it is a charge to us. The PAS–UJA relationship transcends any one – or two – personalities. It calls on all of us to uphold the well-being of the Jewish community here in New York, in Israel, and around the globe. Our efforts, our volunteerism, our philanthropy, our championing of UJA’s mission—this is what carries our people from leader to leader and generation to generation. Anshei hayil. Yirei Elohim. Anshei emet. Sonei betza. Not any single quality, but all of them. Not any one of us, but all of us. We are, as goes the tagline, better together.
It is in our hands, upon our shoulders, that the collective future of the Jewish people rests. From strength to strength, may the commitments of our community carry UJA’s mission forward.