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Rejecting the ‘false alternative’

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Understanding the role that humility plays in a leader’s success has become an important aspect of leadership studies. In recent decades, writers from Jim Collins (in his study of “Level 5 Leaders” in Good to Great) to Patrick Lencioni (who warns against leaders with “terminal correctness” in Getting Naked ) have explored this issue of humble leadership. Breaking with traditions long associated with the “Great Man Theory,” it has become increasingly de rigueur to affirm that humble leaders are simply better leaders, and that arrogance lies at the root of unwise business decisions, low employee morale, and sub-optimal productivity. Modesty is the wellspring of great leaders and great followers, while narcissism and self-centeredness are the antitheses.

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For Jews, this point has even greater poignancy. Moses, the greatest Jewish leader, is counterintuitively described as the “most humble of all people on earth” (Numbers 12:3). The link between Moses’ efficacy and his humility is not coincidental. As I have written in From Sanctuary To Boardroom: A Jewish Approach To Leadership, his modesty led him to recognize his own limitations, learn from the wisdom of others, acknowledge his mistakes, and reconsider his own decisions on several occasions.

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This Mosaic model of humility went on to become the prototype for future Jewish leaders. The Torah insists, for instance, that a sovereign must retain a humble nature and never become arrogant (Deuteronomy 17:20); Maimonides mandated that even the kings of ancient Israel, potentially the most officious of all leaders, had to lead “in a spirit of great humility.” Furthermore, the Talmud in tractate Yoma (22b) requires that all communal leaders have something reprehensible in their background so if they become haughty others can tell them to “turn around.”

There is ample contemporary research to confirm this bond between humility and effective leadership. Among others, Deborah Ancona et al. in “In Praise of the Incomplete Leader” (Harvard Business Review, 2007) and Bossidy and Charan (Execution) have argued that humble leaders deliberately seek advisors who challenge them because the pushback leads them to make wiser decisions. These leaders willingly acknowledge that they do not have all the answers, and they are prepared to own their own mistakes without blaming others.

These findings are certainly consistent with my own, both as an academic and as a practitioner. Inspired by millennia of Jewish teachings and persuaded by the plethora of recent academic and business literature, I am convinced that if we want engaged partners and followers, increased efficiency, and a pipeline leading to viable succession planning, we must reject the “I alone can fix it” mindset.

And yet, much as I would love to assert the principle of humble leadership uber alles, the evidence is far from dispositive.

Honest observers will have a difficult time denying the fact that arrogant leaders can be quite successful. As one pundit recently observed, “humility is not on the menu” in political campaigns. Though it is hard for some to admit, leaders who elevate cocksureness over humility convey a sense of confidence and ease that their followers find reassuring, and those leaders can attract a substantial following. Particularly in extreme circumstances, stakeholders look to their leaders – whether CEOs, elected officials, or clergy – to fight for them and defend their interests. The more unilateral the leaders’ approach, the greater the allure.

Anyone who has ever prepared for a job interview or argued for a promotion knows the importance of a little well-applied braggadocio in the right context. The unvarnished reality is that while some opt for modesty in their leaders, many prefer imperiousness. Overconfidence, even to the point of cockiness, often resonates far more than humbleness. We may envision a world where only humble leaders thrive and merit alone wins out, but the world as it really is suggests a different dynamic.

So, which is it? Are humble leaders – those who admit their mistakes, show their vulnerability, acknowledge their imperfections, and embrace perspectives other than their own – really more effective? Was the late British theologian Rabbi Louis Jacobs naïve when he taught “[t]he greater the man, the more humble he is expected to be”? Or is it axiomatic that strong leaders are like rehearsing prima donnas, perpetually echoing the refrain me-me-me-me-me?

At the core of this conundrum lies a fundamental misunderstanding about what it means to lead humbly.

While Jewish texts and some contemporary writers assert that it takes confidence and self-assurance to lead humbly, the conventional Western wisdom still holds that humble leaders are weak leaders. This arbitrary dichotomy between humility and conceit in leadership is an unfortunate example of the “false dilemma fallacy,” or what the commentator George Will called “the fallacy of the false alternative.”

It is simply untrue that humility is the functional equivalent of timidity. Those who lead must reject this “either-or syndrome”: Either I am humble and ineffectual, or I am narcissistic and powerful. We can assert our most confident selves, in an interview or in a crisis, without negating the import of sharing the credit, learning from others, admitting our imperfections, and acknowledging mistakes.

Mastering the ability to say “I think I am right, but I might be wrong” makes the difference between highly-respected leaders and those who only wish they were.

Dr. Hal M. Lewis is the principal consultant at Leadership For Impact LLC, an executive coaching and organizational consulting firm specializing in nonprofit leadership. Dr. Lewis is the immediate past president and CEO of Spertus Institute in Chicago, and he has held several prominent leadership positions across the Jewish community.

On Scotch Whisky and Jewish Leadership

Hal shared his wisdom and insights about Jewish Leadership and Scotch Whisky on an episode of A Dram and a Drash. Check it out!

Of critics and rebels: Tales of leaders and followers

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Ongoing events in Israel and the U.S. have brought renewed attention to questions of leadership and followership during times of duress. For instance, what is the nature of the leader-follower relationship during extraordinary crises? Can “in extremis leaders” (or followers) justify behaviors that are otherwise unacceptable during periods of so-called normalcy?

Further, when followers are no longer willing to put up with power-hungry and abusive leaders, what are their obligations? Is “duty” a sign of loyalty and patriotism or appeasement and complicity? Additionally, what are the responsibilities of leaders in the face of extreme resistance? Must they capitulate, or is a willingness to compromise a sign of corrosive and weak leadership?

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In the United States, the debate continues to rage among those who “know” the events of Jan. 6, 2021, to have been a deadly insurrection, and those who hold that the “protesters” were loyal Americans, inspired to “fight much harder,” by a leader they loved.

Over the past several months in Israel, we have also witnessed areas of extreme tension between leaders and followers. Accusations on both sides of the judicial reform debate include charges of unilateralism, disloyalty, even perfidy. The leadership, elected with only the slimmest of majorities, moves forward with little regard for the groundswell of domestic and international opposition.

While these present as political matters, they resonate in the corporate and nonprofit sectors as well. To this end, classical Jewish sources offer useful insights that today’s leaders and followers might wish to contemplate.

Consider the encounter between Jethro and his son-in-law, Moses (Exodus 18). Having convinced himself that he, alone, can address the problems of the Israelites, Moses sets himself up as the chief magistrate. He sits before the people rendering decisions, “and the people stood by Moses from the morning to the evening (v. 13).” Moses is blinded by the conviction that his is the only approach. “Because the people come to me … (v. 15),” he will tell Jethro to justify his behavior. On the precipice of losing the confidence of his followers, Moses’ unmitigated attempts at consolidating power could very well have been his undoing.

Like many great leaders, however, Moses benefits from the wisdom of a close advisor, here his father-in-law. Cautioning Moses about the deleterious effects of power hoarding, Jethro challenges him, “What is this thing that you do to the people? (v. 14)” Ultimately, Moses is persuaded by his counsel. He heeds his advice and ensures his own leadership legacy. Jethro is neither rebel nor mutineer. His wisdom comes not with an ulterior motive or a desire to take down the leader. Instead, his words are driven by a genuine desire to enhance Moses’ posture and to maximize his efficacy.

In contrast, consider the case of Korah, understood to be the Bible’s quintessential insurrectionist (Numbers 16). On its face, the presenting issue is similar. Moses is accused of hoarding power, this time, according to Rashi, in the matter of the special privileges accorded the priests. Korah and his followers confront Moses and his brother, Aaron, with what appears to be a reasonable concern. “You take too much upon you, seeing all the congregation are holy … Why then do you lift yourselves above the congregation of the Lord?” (v. 3). Rashi elaborates, “If you yourself have taken the kingship you should not have selected for your brother the priesthood.”

As Rabbi Yehuda Kurtzer, president of the North American Shalom Hartman Institute, points out, Rashi likely had some sympathy for Korah’s argument. Indeed, how many of us resist the power grabs of our contemporary leaders, particularly in purportedly democratic contexts? Recent events in Israel and the U.S. make it clear that when leaders are autocrats, followers may push back. Yet those in charge insist that “elections have consequences,” and they have no obligation to consider the opinions of their opponents.

Korah and his men “rise up” (v. 2) against Moses only to be punished in the extreme by God. This episode raises the difficult question, what is oppositional criticism and what is rebelliousness? Why is Jethro’s condemnation of Moses’ power-hoarding, praiseworthy, and Korah’s not? The answer is unclear. What can be said is, that unlike Jethro, Korah’s intent was to destroy Moses and Aaron’s leadership and to tear down the infrastructure. His were not supportive suggestions advanced to enhance performance. Rather, his actions wreaked of self-promotion and egoism. He co-opted the language of equality, but his real intent was to undermine, not elevate.

The Torah offers additional insights into leading and following, including the story of the daughters of Zelophehad (Numbers 25:10 – 30:1). In this incident, the five daughters of a deceased father are prohibited from inheriting his property. Unwilling to accept such inequity, the daughters “stood before Moses, Eleazar the priest, the princes, and the whole assembly, at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting (v. 27:1-2).” Their request was straightforward. “Why should the name of our father be taken away from among his family, because he had no sons? Give to us therefore a possession among the brothers of our father (v. 4).”

No animus, no attempt to undermine Moses’ leadership, and indeed, no ad hominem argumentation suggesting that Moses arrogated too much power. In fact, even when introducing themselves, the five women make it clear that they are not rebels, they carry no stain from prior insurgencies. They were motivated only by a desire to correct an injustice in the law. “Our father … was not in the company of those who gathered themselves together against the Lord in the company of Korah… (v. 3).”

Moses is neither defensive nor resistant. He does not attack the women or accuse them of disloyalty. He does what a few great leaders do. He listens carefully, manifests his deep respect for their situation, and responds with openness. He is not thin-skinned, nor does he personalize their critique. He acknowledges his limitations as a leader and refers the matter to God, who makes the final ruling. “The Lord said to Moses saying, the daughters of Zelophehad speak right (27:7).” As a result of this exchange, the laws governing real estate inheritance in ancient Israel changed forever.

Another approach to the question of leaders and followers is found earlier in the Book of Numbers, in the story of Eldad and Medad (Numbers 11). As noted, Moses is often criticized for wresting power from others. In the case of Eldad and Medad, however, this is not what happened. The narrative reports that “the spirit” of Moses is now to be distributed among the seventy elders at the Tent of Meeting, thus allowing them to serve as well. “And the Lord came down … and took the spirit that was upon him and put it upon the seventy men … [W]hen the spirit rested upon them, they prophesied (v. 25).” When Joshua, Moses’ heir apparent, learned that at least two people, Eldad and Medad, refused to assemble at the Tent of Meeting, but were prophesying nonetheless, he was distressed. For him, there was only one acceptable path to leadership, and it brooked no dissent. “My lord Moses, cause them to cease,” Joshua importuned.

Moses rejected Joshua’s view, rooted as it was in insecurity. He was unthreatened by well-motivated opponents. Instead, he responds, “Are you jealous for my sake? Would God that all the Lord’s people were prophets and that the Lord would put His spirit upon them! (v. 29).” Moses understood that even antithetical approaches have their place in communal discourse. Demonizing those who disagree is not leadership. It is the pernicious path to autocracy.

In a world rife with division, the Torah offers a great many insights for both leaders and followers, particularly in extremis. Leaders, even the humblest (Numbers 12:3), need to remember that not all opposition is mutinous. They are well advised to distinguish between self-aggrandizing rebels, wishing to undo the enterprise, and those with legitimate concerns, designed to enhance and improve. At the same time, leaders in crisis have a duty to lead and do what they believe is right, even at the risk of infuriating their stakeholders.

Those who follow are far more influential than they and their leaders are apt to believe. Even as they lack authority, they do not, as Barbara Kellerman of Harvard University notes, “lack power or influence.” They have an obligation to be loyal and patriotic but must avoid blind obeisance.

Balancing these tensions is an iterative and protracted process. In the Jerusalem Talmud (Arakhin 17a), there is a disagreement in which some hold that “the character of a generation parallels that of its leader.” While others argue that “the character of a leader parallels that of his or her generation.” As current circumstances are proving, the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

Dr. Hal M. Lewis is the principal consultant at Leadership For Impact LLC, an executive coaching and organizational consulting firm, specializing in nonprofit leadership. He is the immediate past president and CEO of Spertus Institute in Chicago. He has held several prominent leadership positions across the Jewish community and has published and taught about leadership in a variety of academic and popular venues.

Dr. Lewis interview on the Future of Jewish podcast

Dr. Lewis was recently the guest of Joshua Hoffman on the Future of Jewish podcast. Click to hear his nuanced observations on Jewish identity, diaspora Jews’ relationship to the state of Israel, and whether there is a crisis in the future of Jewish leadership.

Building a Sukkah again, for the first time

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

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When I was the parent of young children, Sukkot was the happiest of times. We loved everything about it – the decorations, the outdoor setting, the steady stream of friends, even the bees. It seemed completely unfathomable at that point in our lives that, as we’d been hearing from some older friends, once the kids left for college, we’d stop building a sukkah all together. Yet, with the passage of time, I must confess that this is exactly what happened. While it is true that for some of those years we lived in a high-rise apartment on the thirty-fifth floor, without a balcony, that hardly tells the whole story. Over the decades, Sukkot without our kids at home seemed no longer resonant. “What was the point?” we asked ourselves.

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This year, in the mountains of North Carolina, after many years of living a hut-less existence, we have decided once again to build our own sukkah. Now that I’ve stocked all the necessary accoutrements, and am looking forward to commencing the construction, albeit with a bit of trepidation owing to my less-than-sophisticated mechanical prowess, I find myself ruminating about this reversal. If you’ll pardon the cross-holiday appropriation, why after nearly 20 years of not having a sukkah, is this Sukkot different from all others?

To be sure, I do not think it has anything to do with an enhanced sense of “commandedness” in my old age. I acknowledge the halakhic injunction that “all citizens in Israel” should “live in booths” (Leviticus 23:42), but with apologies to the late Yeshayahu Leibovitz and those who dismiss explicating the mitzvot as idolatrous, divine ordinance alone (however compelling for some) just doesn’t do it for me. At the same time, I no longer fit squarely into the demographic described in the 2000 book, The Jew Within, in which the authors posit the link between episodic performance of ritual on the part of many post-modern Jews and the potent influence of “family, food and festival.” While once, perhaps, pivotal factors in my holiday observance, this explanation hardly accounts for the pending construction of my first sukkah in decades.

No, none of the standard expositions work for me. This year I have been reflecting upon the significance of the sukkah as (what post-talmudic rabbinic authorities called) dirat ‘arai – a temporary dwelling, in contrast to what they termed dirat keva’ – a permanent dwelling. Arcane as they may be, these concepts of permanent and temporary dwellings ceased to be obscure, intellectual categories for me about 14 months ago. As I wrote in these pages last September, the house my wife and I lived in and loved in the Blue Ridge Mountains sustained a devastating middle-of-the night fire in July of 2020. While we were lucky to make it out alive, and we are blessed to have had insurance, along with good friends and a loving family, we lost almost everything. As a result, we no longer think of permanent and temporary dwellings in the same way as once before.

Over the past 60 COVID-filled weeks, we came to learn that a temporary residence, be it one of the hotels or apartments we lived in, can actually feel like home, while we may never feel that way again about our now “rebuilt” permanent (?) domicile. To be sure, we are far from the only people to experience the never-ending assault of broken promises, frustrating hold ups and incalculable reversals as part of a catastrophic loss. Fighting with insurance adjusters and general contractors, delays of furniture, fixtures and cabinets, drywall, carpeting, and roofing are par for the pandemic course. While we may not be alone, however, the accretive impact of what it means to start all over again has taught us that purported permanence is illusory at best.

When attempting to explain the timing of the autumnal festival of Sukkot, several rabbinic commentators note that by all rights, the holiday should come, not in the month of Tishrei, following Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur as it does, but in the Spring in the month of Nisan, following Pesach and the Exodus from Egypt, when sukkah-dwelling was an organic part of the Israelite historical experience. The explanation for this timing offered by the nineteenth century exegete known as the Malbim (Meir Loeb ben Yehiel Michael) is particularly resonant, at least for us. Sukkot, he notes, takes place during the harvest, a time of seeming permanence, when life’s necessities are in full supply, and few are thinking about the ephemeral nature of their lives and possessions.

“Future generations should not be overconfident at the time of the harvest, when their houses are full of good, and think that this world is their purpose and foundation of their life … [they] should realize that this world is a guesthouse and a temporary dwelling. Thus, they leave their permanent dwelling for a temporary dwelling, which is what the sukkah symbolizes…” (Malbim, Ha’TorahVe’hamitzvah 207, cited in Jeffrey L. Rubenstein)[1]

Tempting as it might be after all this time, to say we are finally back in our permanent home, we know that permanence is at best a chimera. Have we made progress, and are we grateful? Of course. But this past year has taught us what the Malbim reminded his students. At precisely the time when one is inclined to feel proud of a new home, bloated with confidence, and eager to put the uncertainty of the past in the rearview mirror, it is best to remember that “this world is a guesthouse and a temporary dwelling.”

So, in a few days, as we endeavor to build our first sukkah in a very long time and “leave the permanent dwelling [scaffolding and all] for a temporary dwelling,” we are more aware than ever of the blurred lines between endurance and evanescence. We will do whatever we can, weather and bears permitting, to make our temporary dwelling feel like home, while never losing sight of the fact that our permanent home is at best a dirat ‘arai – a temporary one, a guesthouse – that we must treasure for as long as we can. Chag Sukkot sameach.

Dr. Hal M. Lewis is past president and CEO and current chancellor of Spertus Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership. He is the Principal Consultant for Leadership For Impact LLC, an executive coaching and organizational consulting firm, specializing in the nonprofit sector. He can be reached at hlewis@leadershipforimpact.com.

[1] Jeffrey L. Rubinstein, “The Symbolism of the Sukka (Part 2)” Judaism, vol.45 no.4 (Fall 1996)

In praise of the really great leaders

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

A large dense group of people standing together, forming a triangular shape, the tip of which points to their leader, a single individual standing a short distance away who points to an unseen point in the distance beyond the frame of the photo.

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Over the years I have become increasingly concerned about our communal emphasis on exclusivist listings of “great” leaders – Forward 50’s, “40 under 40s,” “36 under 36s.” My fear is that these contests convey a distorted understanding of what it means to be an effective leader. It is not that I begrudge either the organizers or the winners of such competitions, many of whom are, indeed, women and men of great influence and vision. My discomfort with these parades of glory is the way in which they advance, perhaps unwittingly, an antiquated notion of leadership, often referred to as The Great Man Theory.

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The idea of the Great Man Theory, most associated with the 19th century Scottish historian, Thomas Carlyle, holds that only certain individuals, certain men at that, are blessed by God with natural abilities that make them great leaders. As Carlyle himself said, “The history of the world is but the biography of great men.” Even allowing for the fact that, thankfully, today’s lists of contemporary Jewish leaders celebrate the invaluable contribution of women, as well, and even if we might imagine renaming the concept to say, the Great Person Theory of Leadership, the misconceptions emerging from such an approach remain significant.

Carlyle, and the scores who embrace his approach even in our own day, insisted that leadership is exclusive and exclusionary, that either one is born with the ‘right stuff’ or not. That only certain “beautiful people” are capable of being effective leaders. Whether they intend to do so, our elite registers of “superstars” employ a similarly reductionist view of what it means to lead. They suggest that people who don’t make the cut are not leaders or that those who lead but are not so acknowledged, must not be as effective or noteworthy as those who are. It is one thing to fete volunteers or professionals for their accomplishments, it is quite another to suggest, however subtly, that only these chosen few are destined for leadership greatness.

I am thinking about these issues now, not only because we are about to commence a new Jewish year, but because I recently had occasion to spend some time with my high school youth advisors, Richard and Sherry Skolnik at a family simcha. Why, you ask, would a man significantly closer to seventy than seventeen be ruminating about his relationship with people he first met as a high school freshman? And what could that possibly have to do with leadership?

Originally my USY fieldworker, Richard worked with me and so many teenage Jews on Long Island, as we grew into young adulthood and began formulating our Jewish identities. From the very start, it was clear that Richard and Sherry were much more than youth workers. They were transformative, if unsung, Jewish leaders who probably wouldn’t have made anybody’s who’s who list at the time but who changed my life and the lives of countless others forever.

From them I learned how to be a Jewish leader: from the mechanics of planning an agenda and running a meeting to the imperative of being a role model and moral exemplar. They taught me how to treat people with dignity, mentschlikhkeit and good humor, regardless of their place in the organizational hierarchy. From them I also learned the complexities of Jewish community and the nuances of synagogue life. They deepened my love for Israel both in theory and in practice. And, perhaps, more than anyone besides my parents (who themselves loved the Skolniks) they encouraged my youthful passion for the joys of Jewish learning and living. It is they whom I think about every time I study the mishna in Avot (1:6), “Make for yourself a teacher, acquire for yourself a friend, and judge each person favorably.”

In an era in which horrible and shattering things have come to light about teens and their youth leaders from long ago, it is unusual, to say the least, that a relationship between a young man and his advisors should blossom and sustain over the course of more than five decades. It is more unusual that that relationship should renew itself over time, assuming new dimensions, as my childhood youth directors now have independent relationships with my grown children, and someday, perhaps, with my grandchildren. And yet even more unusual than all of this is the degree to which my own evolution as a communal leader and an educator has been so deeply inspired by their examples.

I think of the Skolniks every time one of my students questions whether her work as a Jewish educator is making a difference. I tell her that while I cannot predict the future, I know from personal experience that lives can be influenced by what you do, and even more so by who you are.

Even though to me, my long-ago youth directors are one in a million, I have come to understand that there are many “Richards and Sherrys” in Jewish life. Hundreds of unassuming leaders who rarely receive the popular acclaim they deserve. Countless individuals who have an enduring impact without ever making it onto a list of so-called great leaders. But they are great leaders – great Jewish leaders. Because, simply stated, they transform Jewish lives every day and over the course of lifetimes. They are the teachers and youth workers, faculty, educators and heads of school, clergy, Hillel professionals, camp counselors and many more, who may never be nominated to this list or that, but who lead by example, who embody and inspire, who take people to places they never knew they could go. Individuals who manifest the humility Judaism treasures in those who lead. In short, they are the ones who leave an abiding impression and who make leaders out of others. And we owe them all our gratitude. Because of them, we who lead must begin this New Year by redoubling our efforts to follow their example and walk in their ways, list, or no list.

And Who By Fire?

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Photo by Ashish Joshi on Unsplash

As I stare at the title of this article (thank you Dan Brown, for allowing us to craft our own), I am conscious of the fact that, in view of the horrific wildfires once again devastating the American West, some may question my judgment. Yet, I have no real alternative; this is the only title I could possibly choose given my current circumstances and the liturgical landscape in which we find ourselves.

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At 3:00 in the morning on Wednesday, July 22^nd, I woke from a sound sleep to the harrowing sound of crashing glass. I opened my bedroom door and saw flames breaking through my home from the outside deck and raging, as if with a purpose, in my direction. I screamed for my wife as we scrambled to find our way to the front door. By that time the fire alarms were screeching, the security company had called, and we struggled in the darkness to fidget with the lock that separated us from fresh air. For years I had heard that it was the fumes, not the flames, that will kill you, and in a moment’s time I suddenly understood what that meant. While trying to answer the questions of the alarm company call person – Is everyone okay? Are there any children in the house? Any pets? – I realized I could no longer breathe. I was trying to speak and nothing came out. I could not catch my breath, I couldn’t even utter a sound. I felt for my wife as we turned the lock and escaped the house. Once outside, I sucked in some much-needed oxygen, and fell face first down the stairs of my front porch smack onto the cobblestone walkway that only the day earlier I had proudly blown clean of leaves.

As Mary helped me up we knew instinctively we had to move further away from the house. We cried a tearless, soundless lament as we waited for the fire fighters to make their way up the steep road into our neighborhood. Powerless, we watched our beloved mountain home go up in flames.

Within what seemed only a matter of moments, some 15 fire trucks and emergency vehicles, many carrying water since we lack immediate proximity to hydrants, broke the early morning silence and rumbled up our driveway. We stood paralyzed, mesmerized in a way by the orange flames that danced across the mountain ridge, which had drawn us to this spot seven years earlier. Once the firefighters began their work, the paramedics moved us further down the hill to the ambulance in order to attend to my injuries from the fall, which painful and bloody as they were, were only “superficial.” Because I had taken in a considerable amount of smoke, it was also necessary to connect me via cannula to oxygen in an effort to reduce my then significant levels of carbon monoxide.

It was there in the ambulance amidst the whirring of the fire engines and the flashing of the lights something truly surreal took place. Perhaps it was my depleted oxygen, but almost in spite of myself, I began to hear Leonard Cohen’s “Who By Fire” reverberating in my head. His words, of course, are adapted from Unetaneh Tokef, those Hebrew verses I recited dutifully for years, perhaps, a bit too perfunctorily, that now overwhelmed me. “U’me va’esh – And who by fire,” were no longer words spoken about someone else. Now, we were part of the “who,” the paytan (liturgical poet) had in mind. It was our life that was forever being transformed by fire.

In the weeks that followed, as we moved from one hotel to another, and finally to a temporary apartment (we’ve been told it will likely be a minimum of six to eight months before we can even think of returning), we’ve begun the process of navigating the tempestuous waters of rebuilding our lives. Sea tossed between the Scylla of adjustors and the Charybdis of contractors we are coming to understand the totality of our loss. My mother, of blessed memory, always used to say when something broke, “It’s only a thing.” We try to remember that as we begin to take stock of the many “things” now gone, either because they burned or because the soot and smoke have rendered them what insurance-ese calls “non salvageable.” And, of course, we do all this appropriately masked and socially distanced because being a “who by fire” is no inoculation against the coronavirus.

Throughout this ordeal we have sought to maintain some semblance of perspective. While I’ve always been a bit of a cynic. this experience keeps me deeply aware of the fact that my “who by fire” pales in comparison to that of others. People who lose their lives to fire, people without insurance or the resources to start over, and many more who have it so much worse than we do, reinforce my mom’s oft-cited truism that if you take all your troubles and put them in a pot with those of others, you’d still reach in and take out your own. I’m trying my best to avoid “why me-ism,” especially when I find myself slipping into self-pity.

Scholars of the liturgy point out that there are six parts to Unetaneh Tokef. The one most of us know best, “On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed,” followed by the “who bys” – “Who by water, and who by fire …” – is actually the third section. I’m pretty sure that between COVID and our fire, I will never read these words the same way again. The litany of random disasters that can change one’s life in an instant is for us, and for so many others, no longer a theoretical enumeration.

With new insight into a portion of the Unetaneh Tokef, however, I still struggle mightily with part four, the one with the challenging formula that posits “repentance, prayer and righteousness can” have some sort of an impact on the “evil decree.” I deliberately employ vague language here because the Hebrew text itself is unclear. Is it, as some assert, that these three things (which appear originally in the Jerusalem Talmud, Ta’aniyot, Chapter 2) can, in fact, avert the evil decree? Or might it be that these three things can simply lessen the impact of the decree, thus helping us cope? Is it the evil decree or the evil of the decree that is lessened? The Hebrew supports multiple readings. And in my struggle to make sense of it all, this year in particular I am reminded that translation is its own form of commentary.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot make peace with the notion that repentance, prayer and righteousness avert the evil decree. After all, suggesting that had I only prayed harder, repented more, or increased my philanthropy this past year, my house might still be standing, seems a bridge too far. But this year, I may be coming to a new understanding of how to interpret this verse. For all of its complexity, it seems plausible, at least to this “who by,” that “teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah” may be the exact things that will help us deal with our loss, thus softening the pain. Our own teshuvah leads us to a new understanding of and sensitivity to the suffering of others, that we will be hard-pressed to ever again ignore. The tefillah of our many friends and neighbors, even when their lexicon of prayer differs from our own, has been the source of so much comfort. And the many acts of tzedakah from family and loved ones, students and colleagues are helping to get us through these trying times with more grace and certainly more humor than might otherwise be the case.

I cannot say that I am grateful for what it took to get me here, but I do feel thankful to have arrived at this point and enormously indebted to all those who have helped us, and will continue to help us on this journey.

Dr. Hal M. Lewis is the current Chancellor and former President and CEO of Spertus Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership. He is the Principal Consultant for Leadership For Impact LLC, an executive coaching and organizational consulting firm, specializing in the nonprofit sector. He can be reached at hlewis@leadershipforimpact.com.

What Should We Be Learning From the Research on Women as Crisis Leaders?

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

In the months since the Coronavirus made its unwelcome appearance on our shores, we have witnessed a plethora of articles designed to teach about leading in extremis. Several of these have focused specifically upon the performance of women leaders in crisis. While not without some academic controversy, many of these articles provide convincing evidence that women are well positioned to lead effectively, some argue, more effectively than men, during difficult times. Forbes (April 13, 2020) names seven countries with “the best Coronavirus responses,” each of which has a female head of state. A recent NY Times piece (May 15,2020) holds that, “countries led by women seem to be particularly successful in fighting the coronavirus.” And, while acknowledging that there are multiple factors at stake, the Guardian (April 25, 2020) asserts that “women are ‘disproportionately represented to a rather startling degree’ among countries managing the crisis well…”

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These post-COVID 19 analyses are consistent with earlier research, such as the 2009 Mackenzie and Company report called, “Women leaders, a competitive edge in and after crisis,” and the work of Dr. Corinne Post, Management Professor at Lehigh University, who with her colleagues identified a “trust advantage” in women who lead in crisis (Psychology of Women Quarterly, February 27, 2019).

Consider the irony. The nonprofit sector is facing a crisis of indisputable proportions and evidence suggests that women are better prepared to lead in times such as these. Yet, while approximately 70-80% of nonprofit workforces are made up of women, their numbers are paltry at the executive level. (Some estimates suggest that in large nonprofits, women represent only 18% of chief executive officers. The situation is even worse in the corporate world where the latest numbers indicate that a mere 7.4% of Fortune 500 CEOs are women.) If, as McKinsey and Company found, “Leadership behaviors more frequently adopted by women leaders are critical to navigating through crisis and beyond,” then the absence of female executives, particularly at this time, stands out as both an indictment and a challenge for those who care deeply about the not-for-profit world.

This is not a situation that can be fixed overnight; clearly, there are no magic wands to wave, otherwise leading scholars and journalists would long ago have ceased decrying the enormity of gender inequality in our field. Despite the complexity of the situation, however, Machiavelli’s advice to “Never waste the opportunity offered by a good crisis,” has special resonance at this time. As an academic who studies leadership generally and the role of gender in leadership, in particular, and as an executive coach working with nonprofit CEOs and boards, I believe there are things our sector ought to be considering at this very moment. I offer these recommendations understanding full well that, if this time is like others, there will be some who greet the insights of a cismale with more than a bit of skepticism. That having been acknowledged, I offer the following three thoughts as things we should be doing in the near term.

First, CEO search committees must be appropriately sensitized to the data that suggest women bring an important set of skills to leading during and following a crisis, and that this leadership exists in many women even those who are not prime ministers. According to an April 1, 2020 Harvard Business Review analysis, the particular skillsets that favor women leaders in a crisis include empathy, humility, and the ability to earn and engender trust. Given the current and likely future state of our world, committees should be prepared to probe for these assets throughout the interview process. Moreover, committee members must own their preconceived notions of leadership and be willing to acknowledge conscious and unconscious biases. The long-standing notion “that leaders should be aggressive and forward and domineering (previously cited NY Times article, 5.15.2020)” disadvantages female candidates, and is precisely not what our sector needs as we seek to come out of this unprecedented crisis. As Jennifer Martineau and Portia Mount point out in their book, Kick Some Glass, “Because traditional images of leadership are associated with qualities that are viewed as male qualities, people often envision a man rather than a woman when asked to think about good leaders.”

Of course, simply enlightening search committees about the research on women as crisis leaders and helping members to acknowledge their prejudices will hardly be enough to reverse decades of inequity in the hiring of organizational CEOs. And besides, exactly whose job is it to do the educating? But thoughtful search processes that are properly constituted with equal numbers of men and women, and expertly directed, can help identify the skillsets required to lead nonprofit organizations in a post-pandemic world. Doing so, coupled with an exploration of current findings about crisis leadership can help, in the words of Bronznick, Goldenhar and Linsky (20008), to level the playing field.

Secondly, even if a CEO search is not on the table at present, the mostly male CEOs and board members who run America’s nonprofits must find meaningful ways to provide the women on their team with real opportunities to lead through crisis. Here I refer not to any kind of well-intentioned tokenism, but to genuine leadership, which may include but should not be limited to: policy formulation, public facing, strategic planning, coalition building, and financial modeling. According to groundbreaking research documented in the previously cited Kick Some Glass, a team from the Center for Creative Leadership noted that providing employees with “challenging assignments” is critical to their development, across genders and cultures. Few things matter more to the development of a would-be CEO than the chance to “practice leadership” in real world situations. As not-for-profits struggle to get beyond the crisis, they would do well to provide the women on their teams with opportunities to do what they do best and not merely to operationalize the plans of their male supervisors.

Finally, and perhaps most difficult of all, it is time to teach men to incorporate many of the critically important attributes of effective leadership that give women an advantage when leading in crisis. In addition to the skillsets mentioned previously – empathy, humility, and the ability to earn and engender trust – these must also include emotional intelligence, relational skills, the ability to lead through inspiration, and a commitment to collaborative leadership. Far from an attempt to exacerbate the gender gap, I believe that the closer we come in the nonprofit world to what the preeminent gender researcher, Alice Eagly calls “androgynous leadership” (“Gender and Work: Challenging Conventional Wisdom,” Harvard Business School), the greater our chances of thriving beyond the current uncertainties, and the better the opportunities will be for women at the executive level of our organizations. As Eagly and her co-author, Linda Carli, note in their important book Through the Labyrinth: The Truth About How Women Become Leaders (Harvard Business Review Press, 2007):

Successful leaders often have an androgynous balance of traits that includes gregariousness, positive initiative and assertion, social skills, intelligence, conscientiousness, integrity, trustworthiness, and the ability to persuade, inspire and motivate others … Effective leadership surely is not enhanced only by feminine qualities or only by masculine qualities. In fact, people who have extremely masculine or extremely feminine personalities are likely to be at a disadvantage for leadership in most contemporary settings.”

Providing executive training for leaders that includes, among other things, a focus on the skills previously enumerated, will materially enhance the ability to lead effectively both in the midst of and in the aftermath of a crisis. Particularly in the not-for-profit world, these characteristics are invaluable assets for anyone aspiring to great leadership, crisis or no crisis.

With deference to, and respect for the spate of articles reminding us that our work will never be the same after Coronavirus, I would like to suggest that unless we change how we think about leading, the virus may truly wreak irreversible havoc on the world of nonprofit organizations (and I would argue, for-profit ones as well). At the end of the previously cited article from Forbes on the women heading the countries faring best during the pandemic,the author, Avivah Wittenberg-Cox, notes that, “… too many political organizations and companies are still working to get women to behave more like men if they want to lead or succeed. Yet these national leaders are case study sightings of the … leadership traits men may want to learn from women.”

This is not an either-or situation. If the pandemic is teaching us anything it is that there is no singular definition of leadership for women or for men. We in the not-for-profit arena must seek to maximize the best of what Eagly and Carli call “agentic” and “communal” leadership traits. In her article, “Making Leadership Work More Effectively for Women,” Kent State University Research Professor, Janice Yoder, concurs:

At the one extreme, we picture leaders as powerful men barking orders and staking their effectiveness on their ability to get the job done. At the other pole, we can envision leaders who work to nurture their followers and who define their effectiveness in terms of strong bonds among group members … as well as task performance. In practice most leadership exists along a continuum defined by these two extremes, and where this point on the continuum falls is dictated largely by context: the type of task, the composition of the group, the organization’s goals and values, and so on.

A similar conclusion was reached in 2012 by European researchers whose brilliantly titled article “Are (male) leaders ‘feminine’ enough?” notes that “individuals who go beyond gender stereotypes and identify with both instrumental [male] and expressive [female] traits are potentially the most effective leaders.”

The research into crisis leadership leaves little doubt that the attributes adjudged most effective – compassion, humility, collaboration, trust – are those that are most often associated with women leaders. But to suggest that they are only available to women is to suggest that because male leaders are frequently thought of as confident, strategic and decisive, women are somehow incapable of incorporating those traits into their own leadership. Such thinking, often referred to as “the fallacy of the false alternative” has no place in our field.

The COVID crisis raises existential questions for the nonprofit world. Among the most significant of all, “What kind of leaders do we want for our organizations going forward?” As we contemplate the next steps for our sector and our communities, there is much to be learned from the women who lead, and the traits often associated with their leadership, in times of crisis and beyond. I offer these three recommendations then, not as a comprehensive list or as a naïve game plan for addressing decades-old problems. Rather, by taking these first three concrete and measurable steps, I am hopeful that we can begin to operationalize the latest set of findings on gender and leadership in order to make a material difference in this rapidly changing and uncertain world.

The Indefatigable YBZ: Ancient Wisdom For Leading In A Modern Crisis

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Long before the Jewish world adulated “The Notorious RBG,” to whom, now more than ever, we extend wishes for good health, long life and continued vitality, we, as a people, drew inspiration and guidance from another legal scholar, the one I call “The Indefatigable YBZ.” I refer, of course, to the revered Rabban, Yohanan ben Zakkai, the one individual who, more than any other, kept Judaism alive following what was arguably our greatest crisis, the destruction of the Temple.

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I have been thinking a great deal about Yohanan ben Zakkai during these days of Coronavirus. While contemporary Jews understandably draw strength and inspiration from Andrew Cuomo and Jacinda Ardern, among a handful of others, we have our own rich tradition of leaders who understood what it meant to lead in crisis, and in this regard, none is greater than YBZ.

Perhaps most well-known for his daring escape from Jerusalem (sequestered in a coffin), ben Zakkai implored Roman authorities to allow him to reestablish the rabbinic academy and supreme religious court (Sanhedrin) in the village of Yavne, at a safe distance from the holy city (Gittin 56a-b). Having predicted the fall of Jerusalem, ben Zakkai was unwilling to let Judaism crumble along with the Temple itself. Faced with an uncertain future, Yohannan ben Zakkai sought to maximize the opportunities inherent in the crisis at hand. He knew what few others in his day comprehended. Despite the importance of Jerusalem to the Jewish people, responding to the crisis by continuing to do what had always been done was nothing short of a prescription for disaster. “Tein li Yavne, v’hakhameha – Give me Yavne and its sages,” became the new rallying cry of a post-Temple Jewish people, sufficiently resilient, and agile enough to move beyond what surely seemed the inevitable end of Jewish life.

Several years following his efforts at Yavne, Rabban Yohannan ben Zakkai was walking with his disciple, Rabbi Joshua, near the then destroyed city of Jerusalem. Looking out over the place where the Temple stood, Rabbi Joshua was distraught. Everything he knew to be good and valuable and true in the world had been upended. The life he lived, the rituals he practiced, the means by which he served God were no longer. One can almost feel the pathos in his wail, when, according to Avot de Rabbi Natan (4:5), he looked at his teacher, and cried out, “Alas for us! The place that atoned for the sins of the people Israel (through the ritual of sacrifices) lies in ruins!”

Like many crisis leaders of our day, Yohannan ben Zakkai understood the pain and distress, the fear and uncertainty, felt by his colleague. After all, he too was mourning the loss of the Temple and everything it stood for. He knew all too well that what had been destroyed was much more than an imposing edifice. But Yohannan ben Zakkai was impelled to move beyond his own fears and sadness. He knew that a leader in times of crisis must offer followers much more than commiseration or a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. His job was to help Rabbi Joshua and the people at large, to envisage a different model, to foresee life beyond the cataclysm. The text continues:

Then Rabbi Yohannan ben Zakkai spoke to him, “Do not be distressed my son. For we have a form of atonement just like it (Temple sacrifices). And what is it? Acts of kindness, as it says (Hosea 6:6), ‘Loving kindness I desire, not sacrifice.’” Before anything else, Yohannan ben Zakkai understood the need to acknowledge the pain of his student. His response is not flippant or managerial. He doesn’t shake him dismissively and taunt him with cries of, “Get over it, man. It is what it is.” Instead he first offers words of comfort. He speaks directly to Rabbi Joshua’s heart and soul. Effective crisis leaders understand the import of connecting first on a human level, what some today would call emotional intelligence. ‘The future is scary, I’m scared too, and the loss is overwhelming. But we will get through this even as tomorrow will look very different from today.’

Yohannan ben Zakkai’s leadership, however, is found not in his compassion alone. Just as he did when he established the center at Yavne, he knew it was essential to provide Rabbi Joshua with a concrete plan for the future. He neither hesitated to move forward nor did he pretend that everything would remain the same. Instead, like every good crisis leader, he painted a picture for those who needed it most of what life post-crisis would look like. ‘Of course, we will still need a way to seek atonement, and while it is not sacrifice, it is arguably something far more accessible and achievable, namely the performance of good deeds.’ Here Rabbi Yohannan ben Zakkai spoke not only to Rabbi Joshua but to generations of Jews after him. His message was as unambiguous as it was uplifting. One can still be Jewish and serve God even though what was once thought to be the only way of doing so now lies in ruins. Because of his leadership, the consummate pivot had been effectuated. What was once thought to be the only truth is now but a truth from our past. Judaism survives, ben Zakkai insisted, we will survive and in this new system we will thrive as never before.

And then Rabbi Yohannan does something that those who lead in crisis must always seek to do. Rather than hovering in the nether world of vacuous and unsubstantiated promises, he comes as close as he can to validating his new vision by offering a proof, or in this case, a proof text. His renown as a scholar notwithstanding, why would this new plan be enough to convince his coreligionists that Judaism can endure beyond the current crisis? What great leaders understand is that in the aftermath of a crisis, a new plan or a restructure, or a reinvention can only be legitimated when it reflects the core values of the enterprise, either an organization or a people. And that is precisely what Yohannan ben Zakkai did when he invoked the teachings of the prophet, Hosea. Radically redefining the path to atonement from sacrifice to good deeds was far from self-evident. Only by citing the words of Hosea, who had previously made known God’s teachings that lovingkindness, not sacrifice is the preferred approach, was he able to lend authenticity to his model of a new future.

What Rabban Yohannan ben Zakkai understood is that leading through crisis requires compassion and optimism, clarity of purpose and tenacity. By acknowledging the pain and uncertainty of the present, while refusing to wallow in fear, by instilling confidence and foresight in one’s followers and by linking a new vision to the underlying core values that give us meaning, a leader can bring her people to a new place; a place that over time will prove far more adaptable and resonant than ever imagined.

A Coach’s Prayer

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

During this time of pandemic and economic despair, I am inspired by the daily bravery and fortitude of my clients, women and men who lead nonprofit organizations. As an executive coach, I do my best to guide and to counsel, even as I know full well that none of us has been here before. Over the past weeks, I have learned so much about courage and strength from these clients who are daily striving to stabilize and preserve the often-forgotten sector of nonprofit organizations. I offer this supplication on their behalf and in the name of countless colleagues trying our best to bring meaning and hope to a very scary world.

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In this time of sickness and death I pray for the ability to provide life-affirming guidance to my clients. Grant strength to those who lead and humility to those who counsel them.

As economic uncertainty rules the day and the future of our organizations seems increasingly uncertain, embolden the resolve of those who lead even when they lack all the information they require.

Inspire them to internalize the wisdom of Robert Louis Stevenson, who said, “Keep your fears to yourself but share your courage with others.”

As they walk a road they’ve never traveled before, bless our clients with the strength to overcome their fears and insecurities as they are forced to make horrible choices between untenable alternatives.

Teach them to know that in crisis the choice is rarely between right and wrong and most often between better and worse.

In their zeal to make the “best” decisions, keep them humble and help them to avoid magic bullet solutions.

Allow them to ask tough questions of those who have led in prior crises. Competence matters, especially now.

In a period of extremis when so many have a tendency to withdraw, may those who head our organizations come to appreciate the value of connection and collaboration, of idea exchanges, “personal advisory boards,” and “accountability partnerships.” May they willingly learn from and teach others.

Grant them the security to admit what they do not know, without fear that their leadership will be compromised or called into question.

When everyone is looking for easy answers, help them to avoid bravado and cocksureness. Teach them the difference between leading and cheerleading.

Keep them honest, forever reminding them that in times of crisis, people want the truth not fairy tales.

Grant them the confidence to be reflective, even when doing so can be especially frightening.

Remind them to take care of themselves and to “refill” their leadership through exercise or reading or calls with friends or whatever brings them respite. Encourage them to model this behavior for their teams as well.

Amidst the furloughs and the layoffs grant them the ability to distinguish between managing, that is, doing things right, and leadership, which is always about doing the right things.

When they feel most frightened and isolated, remind them that they are not alone and that what they are doing now matters more than ever.

Teach them that no matter how many times they have communicated with their stakeholders, team members, and constituents, it is never enough. When people are afraid and lacking certainty, they need the steady voice of their leaders even when the news is not good.

May those who lead continue to make hard decisions with compassion and understanding. Very little can change the harsh realities, certainly not words alone, but long after this is over people will remember how their leaders made them feel.

Surrounded by the all-pervasive madness and sadness, allow them to glimpse moments of optimism and light to galvanize and inspire those they lead.

Give them the confidence to know that there will be life after the pandemic. Instruct them that only the most agile and adaptable will survive. Help them to seek opportunities in this crisis beyond what they ever thought possible.

May they draw inspiration from the words of the poet, Robert Browning, “For sudden, the worst turns the best, to the brave.”

Remind them that they are role models whether they want to be or not. Especially in times of crisis, people are watching them.

May we live to see the day when good health, good jobs and good spirits return to our world, when safety and security (never again to be taken for granted) fill our lives and the lives of those we love and care for.

Now More Than Ever We Must Speak the Language of Values

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Even a hardened veteran of communal crises cannot help but be impressed with the enormity of the response coming from Jewish nonprofit organizations over the past several weeks. Under enormous pressure, schools and synagogues, social service agencies, defense organizations, Federations, JCCs, Hillels, summer camps and so many more, have galvanized efforts to respond to COVID-19. And because these efforts only work when we let people know what we are doing, the North American Jewish communication apparatus is working overtime. From old fashioned phone trees to social media, from email to Zoom, the American Jewish community is doing what it does best, while letting people know how to access these offerings.

As a professor of leadership and executive coach, I have long been guided by Judaism’s insistence that leadership is about behavior, not words or job titles. The shoresh (root) of the Hebrew word manhig (leader) is nun–hey–gimmel meaning behavior. The Coronavirus crisis is a daily reminder that how we behave in the face of this unprecedented challenge matters far more than what we say.

Yet in these very strange times I find myself re-evaluating the need to articulate why we do what we do. That is to say, while nothing is more important than our behaviors in times of crisis, real leadership must include infusing these deeds with deeper meaning by speaking the language of our values.

Whether we are an educational institution gearing up to finish the academic year remotely, a social service agency providing food and grants to newly laid off workers or a congregation hosting online Shabbat worship, our behaviors are not merely constituent services. They are living embodiments of our values and we should say as much. Hillels responding to the needs of confused and frightened students, senior facilities working hard to provide online connections between residents and their loved ones, adult learning centers, retraining their faculty to learn to teach remotely, are doing these things not merely because our stakeholders want them but because each of these behaviors reflects the values that undergird and inspire our work.

To be clear, it is not enough to invoke “values” as an ill-defined catchall term lacking in specificity or substance. Every behavior that marks our response to this crisis can and should be linked explicitly to the value concepts, sacred precepts and classical sources that animate our work. This need not require advanced degrees in Jewish Studies.

The learning that continues in each of our communities, unabated across the age continuum, is not merely a fulfillment of state educational requirements – it reflects our historic commitment to talmud torah in every generation. Remote worship services and weekly divrei torah are not merely benefits of congregational membership. These online minyanim, Zoom seders, and so much more are, in point of fact, manifestations of our dedication to kehillah(community), p’nimiut (spirituality) and the obligation we feel to live in accordance with the Jewish calendar.

When nonprofit executives and boards struggle to minimize the impact of this crisis on their personnel, they do so not merely as employers fighting to maintain a workforce but as Jews driven to uphold the laws of best labor practices and the highest principles of menstschlikhkeit. When our social service agencies appeal for volunteers even in an era of social distancing, they do so inspired by the mitzvot to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and an awareness that we are all created b’tzelem elohim (in the image of the divine).

When our development departments call their senior citizen donors, not for a gift, but to check on their mental and physical wellbeing, they do so not because their commitment to donor stewardship impels them to but because they are guided by the tradition of kibud zekenim (honoring our elders).

When our community relations agencies endeavor to provide the nonprofit community with the most up-to-date information on relevant federal legislation, while simultaneously remaining vigilant against the prospect of rising anti-Semitism, they do so not as bureaucrats or policy wonks but as communal leaders guided by the principles of shtadlanut (intercession and advocacy) and areivut (responsibility and interconnectedness). When Jewish federations mount emergency campaigns to respond to the seemingly endless array of needs, they do so not because ‘all they care about is your money’ but because the deeply rooted values of tzedakah and g’milut hasadim (acts of loving kindness) obligate them to do no less.

Leadership is, indeed, about behavior. And as a community we should be proud of the leadership we have shown and will continue to bring to this crisis. But we should think seriously about why we do what we do, as well. And we should couple our actions with an unapologetic articulation of the values that motivate and inspire them.

Our colleagues – those still employed and those facing economic uncertainty – need to know about the values that drive our efforts to protect them for as long as possible. Our board members, worried for their futures and ours, must appreciate that what we do is not merely a perfunctory performance of job responsibilities but something transcendent and holy, even if dressed in quotidian apparel. Our donors and grantors, motivated to do the right thing, need to know that we are bigger than our By-Laws or that which we fill out on a grant application. Invoking the language of values is not a marketing ploy or ill-timed sanctimony. It helps remind us that while deeply immersed in the trenches, our behaviors only make sense within a broader context. As values without action are vacuous, so behaviors without values can become mechanical and deracinated. Getting through the uncertain challenges that lie ahead requires a redoubling of our leadership behaviors and the willingness to contextualize our work within the values we cherish.

Synagogue Lay Leadership in the Twenty-First Century A Different Kind of Model

Originally published in NATA Journal

Five years after the release of the Pew Research Foundation study, “A Portrait of Jewish Americans,” the findings have been thoroughly scrutinized and are well known even to casual observers.

The contemporary realities of American Jewish life: wide-spread secularism, unprecedently high levels of individualism, rising intermarriage rates, a shrinking of the historic center in favor of a corresponding rise at the poles, drops in organizational and congregational affiliation, loosening of communal bonds, distancing from Israel and declining rates of Jewish philanthropy are no longer surprising. As well trod as this territory may be, however, little attention has been given to the question of what these trends mean for those who lead our temples and synagogues.

Because changing times require new approaches to leadership, I offer here an outline of a new, twenty-first century congregational lay leader. Our ancient liturgies held a special place of esteem for the women and men who “dedicate themselves to the synagogues … and involve themselves faithfully with the needs of the community.” Despite their changed roles over the years, we remain indebted to these individuals who constitute what in contemporary parlance is referred to as the governance function of our religious institutions. (Because things change materially when discussing smaller houses of worship, those temples that are entirely lay-led, or those in which someone other than a full-time ordained clergy person officiates, will remain beyond the current focus.).

The “new” model I propose below is, counter-intuitively, far from the zeitgeist. Indeed in most cases, it traces its roots to and draws its inspiration from classical Jewish teachings on effective leadership. That it does not, and has not for many years, describe the conventional congregational leader does not alter its potential impact. Indeed, I would argue that contemporary circumstances make its reinstitution long overdue.

In Search of a Twenty-First Century Leadership Model

The old self-help mantra reminds us that, “If we always do what we’ve always done, then we’ll always get what we’ve always got.” Today, in view of shifting demographic patterns, there is widespread agreement that a new typology of synagogue leader is needed. But determining what that looks like and agreeing on how we get there is far from settled. To this end, I propose the following profile of a twenty-first century congregational leader.

A Learning Leader — In the twenty-first century, lay leaders can no longer afford to abdicate responsibility for Jewish learning to the rabbinic or educational staff of the congregation. To be an effective member of a synagogue board, individuals must reject the moniker of am-ha’aretz – uneducated Jew. The complexities of leading a contemporary synagogue demand that those charged with the governance function must have a working knowledge of basic Jewish literacy. Moreover, congregational leaders must be conversant with contemporary Jewish trends, particularly those that affect the modern synagogue. Finally, board members must learn to grow their own leadership skills. It is not enough that they are successful in their personal fields of endeavor; they must work to become better organizational leaders as they seek to serve their constituents.

Importantly, synagogue leaders need not enter the job with a prerequisite level of such learning. Instead, an ongoing commitment to study must accompany one’s service to the institution. This means it is not enough for congregational lay leaders to attend committee and board meetings with regularity. They must also manifest a commitment to their own Jewish education – both classical and contemporary – while “on the job.” Similarly, as leaders, they must focus on their own development and growth during the period of their service to the congregation through training programs, workshops, and related opportunities.
A Leader Dedicated to Shared Power and Collaboration – Contemporary synagogues are complex organisms. The traditional Western leadership model, often referred to as the “Great Man Theory,” in which one single individual has all the answers and can do it all, has no place in today’s congregations. Sadly, some synagogue lay leaders believe that the best way to lead is “my way or the highway.” Simply stated, in the twenty-first century only leaders passionately committed to sharing power with others will succeed in our fast-paced, rapidly changing world.

This commitment assumes a variety of formulations in the modern synagogue. Job descriptions and boundaries must be clearly articulated. Micro- managing volunteer leaders, rogue board members, and contributors wishing to disproportionately flex their muscles by insisting on their version of the Golden Rule – “the one who has the gold makes the rules” – do not serve the best interests of today’s synagogues. At the same time, professionals and clergy who believe that they are first among equals, that by virtue of their posts they are entitled to run roughshod and rule unilaterally over the future of their congregation are living in a time warp that no longer comports with contemporary realities.

A Leader with a Bias for Action – The Hebrew word for leader is manhig. It derives from a three-letter root word meaning behavior. This is more than semantics; it represents a significant insight into effective leadership, with particular resonance for synagogue lay leaders. To say that leadership is about behavior is to argue against prevailing perspectives in which leadership is often conflated with authority. Holding a title, or for that matter, making a large charitable contribution, is not the same as leading. While many contemporary congregations have wisely moved away from restricting board membership to the so-called “beautiful people,” the reality is we have so much more progress to make in this regard. In an era in which traditional notions of who can lead no longer resonate with large segments of the marketplace, defining leadership as behavior can make a huge difference.

In Judaism, the biblical personality Nachshon ben Aminadav stands as an exemplar for all who lead. Hardly a household name, and far removed from the halls of titular power in ancient Israel, Nachshon, according to rabbinic legend (Sotah 37a), stepped forward when others, including Moses, were reticent to cross the Sea of Reeds to escape Pharaoh’s army. Nachshon’s willingness to take action, to behave with the boldness of a leader, stands in sharp contrast to others who fail to understand that leadership is about behavior. In an era as deeply challenging as ours, only those with a willingness to act and act decisively, even at the risk of upending previously hallowed practice, can rightfully claim the mantle of leadership.
Lay Leaders Must Assume Their Rightful Place at the Table – In far too many U.S. synagogues, board members have a tendency to see themselves as unequal partners in the future of the enterprise. “We are just volunteers,” goes the common refrain. In point of fact of fact, according to the IRS, volunteer board members are the owners of the organization. Their role should not be diminished or relegated to the back seat because they lack ordination. Successful synagogues require a partnership between rabbis and board members, as well as executive directors and others on the professional team. It is true, of course, that governance is assigned different responsibilities from management. But each area is sacred and each is essential to the effective functioning of a twenty-first century institution.

According to the Palestinian Talmud (Berakhot 5:1; 8a), “Rabbi Jeremiah said, ‘He who occupies himself with communal needs is as one who occupies himself with the study of Torah.’” Board members ought not apologize for their role. They are required to step up to assume their rightful place as leaders.
Leaders Must be More than Cheerleaders – Those who sit on boards have a responsibility to advocate on behalf of their organization. No one expects a board member to be a naysayer. Those who lead should, of course, sing the praises of their congregation and its staff. But being a cheerleader is not a matter of blind loyalty.

In today’s environment, in which potential congregants face manifold options, including the choice not to affiliate at all, board members must guarantee that their organization is committed to excellence in a highly competitive arena. Worshipers will not choose to affiliate simply because your temple is the closest to where they live, or because that is the place their parents attended. Unless your synagogue is providing the most market-resonant services possible, people will make other choices.

Today the era of Jewish “shoulds” is over. No longer is it true that one should join the temple or contribute financially, or be deferential to the rabbis, or pay homage to the past. The job of the owners, in partnership with other members of the team, is to create synagogues that address a new generation of Jewish needs.
Leaders Face Forward – Synagogue lay leaders are duty-bound to help create responsible congregations. At the heart of the English word responsible are the two words: response and able. The job of the congregational board member then is to create response-able institutions. Given the frenetic pace of change in our lives generally and in the American Jewish world, in particular, synagogue lay leaders cannot afford the luxury of being focused only on the present. They must enable synagogues that are well-positioned and appropriately staffed to respond to the onslaught of radical change confronting all religious institutions in America today, and Jewish ones especially.

Only by facing the future and by being willing to call into question previously sacrosanct practices will today’s leaders prepare for tomorrow. Given everything we know, for example, about contemporary patterns of connecting, should we still be talking about joining, affiliation, and membership in today’s synagogues? Here the reference is not merely to cosmetic changes like rethinking how we collect dues, or who we call a member. The challenge for today’s leaders is to think in categories that are far more disruptive. To lead is to do more than advocate for the status quo.
Leaders are Humble – At the core of Judaism’s unique contribution to the study of effective leadership is the conviction that the best leaders are humble leaders. Moses, for example, was simultaneously the most effective of all leaders and the most humble person on the earth (Numbers 12:3). The ancient kings of Israel were enjoined to guard against haughtiness, and egregious cases of leaders abusing their powers are routinely condemned in classical sources.

In contrast to the way it is (mis)understood in certain contemporary circles, humility in leadership is an asset; it is not a sign of weakness. To be humble, a leader must know that “None of us is as smart as all of us.” As Peter Drucker counseled his clients, “If you are the smartest person in the room, you’re in the wrong room.” The key to effective leadership is a willingness to surround yourself with people who know more than you do about any number of issues. Humility allows a leader to ask tough questions, to challenge assumptions, and to probe deeply. In today’s synagogue environment, in which multiple stakeholders with diverse interests predominate, only an individual with the confidence to say, “I think I am right, but I might be wrong,” can hope to lead effectively.

In our rapidly changing world, old models of synagogue leadership must give way to a different approach. The need to create meaningful partnerships, to share power, and collaborate with the rabbinate, the executive director and other members of the congregational team cannot be overstated. In many congregations, the executive director plays a pivotal role as liaison with the laity. Through her work as the first point of contact she can identify potential new board members or committee chairs and because he frequently observes lay leaders in action he can have a great influence in helping to guide a member’s long-term leadership trajectory.

Traditional assumptions about how we have always done business in our temples must be challenged in light of current realities. No magic solutions exist. Board members who lead humbly, convinced that they have a valuable contribution to make without insisting that theirs is the only way, set the right tone. Congregations will become more response-able when their leaders believe that leadership is about behavior not title. When synagogue leaders are willing to take risks, to ask big questions about tomorrow, not just today, they enhance the change-readiness of their institutions. Finally, when leaders see their job as both advocating for and challenging the deeply established practices that have guided their institutions, they will echo the words of the Tanakh, “I have built You an exalted home and a place where You may dwell forever” (II Chronicles 6:2).

Dr. Hal M. Lewis is the Principal Consultant for Leadership for Impact, LLC – a nonprofit leadership consulting firm working with executives and boards on issues ranging from executive coaching to board development. A former synagogue executive director, he is the immediate past President and CEO, and current Chancellor of Spertus Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership. A prolific writer and teacher on leadership, he serves on the Faculty of the Center For Creative Leadership in Greensboro, NC. He can be reached at hlewis@leadershipforimpact.com. Follow his blog at leadershipforimpact.com/blog.

Reflections on Succession: A Personal Perspective

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Within the next several weeks I will officially step down from the CEO post I have held for the past ten years at a major educational institution. In a nonprofit environment that is often as cutthroat and “dog-eat-dog” as the corporate arena, I am proud to report that my departure is 100% scandal-free. No drama, no mystery, no backstory. Stepping down from the Presidency of my institution was entirely my decision and one I reflect upon with pride. While I normally eschew personal reflections as too egocentric and idiosyncratic, I am hopeful that by sharing some of my experiences I can be helpful to others who find themselves exploring similar issues related to executive transition.

Perhaps, because I never wanted the CEO role to begin with, I never fell into what I call the Louis XIV trap, in which executives often become convinced that, as old King Louis once said, “L’etat c’est moi.” (I have written more about the very real challenges executives face in contemplating transition in my blog post, Planning for Success(ion).) In my case, I knew that the Institute I served had a long history before my tenure and I am confident that its influence will continue long after I step down. It never occurred to me that my decade of service was oversized or determinative. To be sure, I am proud that we overcame a number of challenges and accomplished several important things but I see my tenure as a single decade among many, and nothing more; a link in a chain that is much larger than I am.

Four years ago, when I first raised the issue of stepping down to my Board Chair and Executive Committee, I did so because I believed then (and now) that it was right for both my organization and for me. I had assumed the helm during a very rocky and uncertain period both financially and programmatically. The early years of my tenure were characterized by the need to make difficult (often painful) decisions that dramatically reduced our organization’s programmatic footprint in order to survive economically. It is not an exaggeration to say that we spent many of those early years in extremis. No organization can survive if crisis is its sole defining character, and fortunately, our story (too long to enumerate here) has a happy ending. But it became clear to me along the way that a very different set of skills was required to lead the enterprise after the “turnaround” had been completed.

Leaders must understand the importance of what is often referred to as “situational leadership.” There are times when a leader’s skills are perfectly suited to the needs of her organization. Those very same skills, however, may not reverberate with equal resonance in a different agency or at a different time within that same company. Just as human beings evolve and change over time, so do organizations. (See Nonprofit Lifecycles: Stage-Based Wisdom For Nonprofit Capacity and The Five Life Stages of Nonprofit Organizations: Where You Are, Where You’re Going, and What to Expect When You Get There.)

Underlying this contention, of course, is the obligation leaders have to know themselves, to accurately assess their assets and weaknesses, and to respond accordingly. The fact that we had become a financially viable enterprise with a new brand, and a senior staff capable of propelling the organization forward, meant that it was time to step aside in favor of others with different skills.

Lest I sound like a martyred altruist, this decision was driven equally by a belief that my best interests would be served by moving on as well. Proud as I am of the past ten years, there are other things I want to do professionally, none of which include being a “hanger-on.” Moving to something new is always more satisfying than lingering beyond one’s time, however self-gratifying that may seem in the moment. The ability to separate self from role and to define oneself as more than one’s title is key to effective leadership. I don’t mean to suggest that my experience of 10 years at the top is the right timeframe for everyone; only that succession planning is a leader’s responsibility whenever the timing is right.

Despite the successes, my presidency would have been a failure had I decided to walk away without laying the groundwork for someone to come after me. As Peter Drucker famously taught, “There is no success without a successor.” In my own case, I promised my board that I would spend time during the period of my last contract identifying, preparing, and mentoring a potential candidate to become the Institute’s next CEO. It was always clear that I could not guarantee the outcome of those discussions but I have worked hard (as has my eventual successor) to effectuate a seamless transition. Many new chief executives step into their role without knowing who’s who and what’s what in the organization (even if they’ve been on staff for a while). In contrast, my successor and I developed a detailed transition plan that included a gradual expansion of his duties and the opportunity for him to meet and work with trustees, donors, and community leaders, long before walking into the C-Suite.

While some long-serving CEOs often admit to being threatened by a newer, younger successor, I am, in a word, elated. Given the enormous investment of psychic and physical energy that informs any presidency, particularly one characterized by extreme challenges, I am comforted and encouraged that our next CEO is poised to pick up the baton and run much further than I could ever imagine. In this regard, I have learned another valuable lesson. Simply stated, succession planning is not cloning, or to again quote Drucker, “carbon copies are weak.” Whatever talents and skills I brought to this job are not the same ones that will propel us into the next decade. Just as I was different from my predecessor, my successor will be and should be different from me. And that is a very good thing.

I do not worry that my vision will be abandoned or my legacy tarnished. The very leadership I have sought to bring to the agency demands that things change going forward. Stepping down from the top post is made infinitely easier by the fact that I trust my successor to find his own path in an uncertain future. That is what leaders do. And to be succeeded by a leader is the greatest legacy of all.

Perhaps more than any single attribute, the key to effective succession planning is humility. Too often, humility is misunderstood as weakness or self-effacement. Nothing could be further from the truth. Humility allows a leader to ask wise questions, to make good decisions and to empower others, recognizing that no single individual has all the answers. Humility is also the essential ingredient in planning for effective transitions. When a leader believes that he alone is capable of steering the enterprise, or that without her the company will fall apart, then the very idea of succession planning is likely to be avoided entirely. And this, I am sorry to say, is often what happens. Call it Founder’s Syndrome or its functional equivalent, incumbent executives often resist contemplating the future of the organization without them. And the truth be told, their boards are often equally as reticent to focus on the need for change at the executive level. Because I never wanted to be defined by my job alone, I never wanted my organization to be defined by me as its sole executive.
Effective leadership is about building organizations that outlast us. The oft-heard suggestion that “this place would fall apart without me” is an indictment of the highest order, not the statement of outsized influence many believe it to be. Leading humbly and making way for others requires a degree of confidence and security that is the furthest thing from weakness.

In sum, I offer these concluding thoughts for those organizations or individuals ready to engage in the succession planning process:

Leadership is not solipsism. We lead for others not for ourselves.
Valuable as our tenures may have been, we are not our organization and who we are is not the same as what our title is.
Humble leaders are not weak leaders. Humble leaders see well beyond themselves, while weak leaders cannot get out of their own way.
Only those who provide for the future leadership needs of their organization can rightfully be called leaders themselves.
Legacies are determined by others, not by us. And in any event, they rarely last forever.
As leaders, our job is to build organizations that outlive us, even if they look very different from the ones we left.

After ten years as the CEO of Spertus Institute, Dr. Hal M. Lewis will be stepping down from the Presidency in June. He will continue to serve Spertus as Chancellor. A prolific writer and popular teacher on leadership, Dr. Lewis has recently been invited to join the Faculty of the Center For Creative Leadership in Greensboro, NC. His new nonprofit leadership practice, Leadership For Impact LLC serves the needs of nonprofit executives and their boards, with a focus on executive coaching, crisis management/turnarounds, working with boards, and succession planning. He can be reached at hlewis@leadershipforimpact.com.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

What’s Jewish About Jewish Leadership?

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

The story is told about Abraham Lincoln who was said to have challenged an interlocutor with the riddle, “If you call a tail a leg how many legs does a dog have?” “Five,” he replied. “Wrong,” said Lincoln, “simply calling a tail a leg does not make it so!”

I think about this “tale” every time I contemplate the explosion of offerings in our community purporting to be about Jewish leadership. Indeed, in this post-Passover season of counting, most of us can no longer count how many such programs exist. Legacy organizations, start-ups, foundations, synagogue movements, the innovation sector, everyone, it seems, is in the business of Jewish leadership. What is far less certain, however, is what it means to create meaningful leadership programming, or, as was asked of me not too long ago by a group of extremely thoughtful young Jewish leaders, “What’s Jewish about Jewish leadership?”

The vast majority of leadership programs in American Jewish life today fall into one of two broad categories. (Spoiler alert, I am an advocate for a third approach, which I will describe shortly.) The first, involves providing those who run Jewish groups with insights into effective leadership as expounded in academic literature and corporate best practices. Here, “Jewish” is a demographic term describing the mission of the organizations and the ethnic/religious background of their employees and volunteers who participate in these training programs. The second category provides those who run Jewish organizations with an intensive educational experience that focuses on what can most appropriately be referred to as Jewish literacy: history, rituals, value concepts, philosophy, and the like. Here “Jewish” refers to the study of Judaism, Jewish life, and Jewish practice by those who hold titled positions within Jewish groups.

In my estimation, either of these approaches has value, but neither answers the question, “What’s Jewish about Jewish leadership.” The first category involves the study of effective leadership practices drawn from academe and industry by people who happen to be Jewish or happen to work in a Jewish organizational context. The second represents high quality adult Jewish learning that could (and arguably should) be pursued by anyone interested in the academic study of the Jewish experience, Jewish institutional leader or not.

As Lincoln might have cautioned, simply calling a program “Jewish leadership,” does not make it so. Having said all of this, however, I would suggest that the term Jewish leadership really does have meaning, though it is qualitatively different from either Jewish studies or leadership studies. In this third approach, Jewish leadership represents its own discrete discipline that has a great deal to teach those who serve in leadership capacities within and beyond the Jewish organizational world.

In contemplating the question, “What’s Jewish about Jewish leadership,” ask yourself a similar question about, say, social justice or medical ethics or environmentalism. What’s Jewish about Jewish social justice? Or Jewish environmentalism? Or Jewish medical ethics? When evaluated through this lens, one immediately comes to understand that the answer to the question involves an exploration of the extensive body of literature and great repository of classical Jewish sources that address these questions. The same is true about Jewish leadership. Millennia of classical writings, the product of Jewish life in a multiplicity of venues across an array of historical epochs, have produced rich insights and potent lessons into effective leadership. The term “Jewish leadership” then means something. It is not the same as general Judaica for leaders or leadership best practices for Jews.

There are far too many examples to review in this brief space, but consider two identifiably Jewish sources that have something to teach about leadership.

If after you have entered the land … you decide, “I will set a king over me…,” you shall be free to set a king over yourself, one chosen by the Lord your God. Be sure to set as king over yourself one of your own people … he shall not keep many horses or send people back to Egypt … to add to his horses … And he shall not have many wives … nor shall he amass silver and gold to excess … When he is seated on his royal throne, he shall have a copy of this Teaching (Torah) written for him … Let it remain with him and let him read in it all his life, so that he may learn to revere the Lord his God … Thus he will not act haughtily toward his fellows … (emphasis added – Exodus 17: 14-20)

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One should not appoint anyone administrator of a community, unless he carries a basket of reptiles on his back [something reprehensible in his background], so that if he becomes arrogant, one could tell him, “Turn around.” (Yoma 22b)

Ask yourself: (1) What are the leadership principles to be found in each of these texts? (2) What relevance does each text have to my own work as a leader in 2018? In the first text, for example, we may be struck by the importance of the king being humble and not acquiring too much power, and in the second it might be that we are reminded that perfection is an unreasonable expectation for any leader.

However one interprets these sources, they are Jewish sources on leadership and for that reason alone they have a place in any program purporting to be about Jewish leadership. But cherry-picking sources is not the goal here. Jewish leadership programs must be wiling to plumb the depths of Jewish texts in search of meaningful insights into effective leadership that resonate across the millennia. These sources, and hundreds more like them, in concert with contemporary leadership studies, begin to answer the question, “What’s Jewish about Jewish leadership.”

But that is not all. There is another answer to this question that goes beyond the leadership insights found in classical Jewish literature. For generations, Jewish communities, regardless of historical timeframe or country of residence, organized themselves into religious, educational, and political structures that shared similar principles and values. First explored by the late political scientist, Daniel Elazar, this system, known as the ketarim or crowns of leadership, has much to teach contemporary Jewish leaders about shared power, collaboration, and interdependent leadership models. As was true when discussing classical Jewish sources on leadership, this is far too extensive to examine in a brief article. But it represents another important component of the study of Jewish leadership, and it is an invaluable part of the answer to the question “What’s Jewish about Jewish leadership.”

Between these two factors – what Jewish sources have to say about effective leadership and how Jewish communities have organized their leadership structures over the centuries – there is a great deal to learn about the unique components of “Jewish leadership.” In the aggregate they add up to much more than Jewish literacy or leadership best practices alone.

The point is not to make the study of Jewish leadership inaccessible to those who lead Jewish groups. Nor is it desirable to offer a program of leadership training that is “too tribal.” On the contrary, the point is to offer today’s Jewish leaders programs of substance and of deep personal meaning, and not to insult them by calling a tail a leg when they know better.

I believe the time has come to re-conceptualize programs of Jewish leadership training – not to eliminate extant offerings or to invade anyone’s turf. Rather, by insisting that every program claiming to be about Jewish leadership be able to answer the question, “What’s Jewish about Jewish leadership” (besides the mission or membership of the sponsoring group), then we can begin to maximize the potential of these programs to really transform a new generation of Jewish leaders and empower them to respond to a new generation of Jewish challenges.

To be clear, this is not about the imposition of some arbitrary “religious” test. This is about enabling aspiring Jewish leaders, whether they serve the Jewish community or not, to refract their work – the decisions they make, the power they wield, the ethical standards they model – through the prism of classical Jewish teachings and communal practices. In so doing, those who participate in these programs will be able to proclaim from the highest heights that Jewish leadership means something and that simply calling a tail a leg does not make it so.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Try This at Home … Soon

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

(l -r), Frank Sesno, Moderator, Gov. Jennifer Granholm (D-MI), Gov. Mike Huckabee (R-AK), Dr. Hal M. Lewis, President and CEO, Spertus Institute

On a crisp and cloudless Sunday in March, only days before the vernal equinox and the attendant promise of spring, Spertus Institute went where few others in our country have chosen to go. On that day, at the opening program in our Critical Conversations series, we welcomed two former state governors – Jennifer Granholm (D-MI) and Mike Huckabee (R-AK) to our stage. The afternoon featured a robust debate on a variety of hot button issues including gun safety/control, immigration, and the role of the media in America. Moderated by former CNN Washington Bureau chief, Frank Sesno, and funded by a generous donor, the purpose of the Critical Conversations series is to present vigorous and unapologetic disputation within the context of civil discourse.

From the beginning, we knew that this program would engender considerable criticism. Why would you bother with such an endeavor? How could you pay money to bring (name of speaker) to your institution? What does this have to do with your mission as an Institute of higher Jewish learning and leadership training? For us, of course, the answer is unmistakable. As Jews we are heirs to a tradition that simultaneously embraces robust dialogue and civil conversation, a tradition with the potential to speak to those well outside of our own tribal bubble, as well. Throughout our literature and sacred writings, our sages insisted that we could disagree passionately while respecting and honoring the humanity of our interlocutors. The old quip about, “Two Jews, Three Opinions,” is not just a corny joke. It is a statement of values.

Given the condition in our country and in our contemporary Jewish community, in which even a gathering of friends or a holiday dinner often degenerates into painful and scarring invective, we draw inspiration from the charge of the Mishna: u’vemakom she’ein anashim, histadel lihiyot ish – “in a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.” That is to say, when surrounded by the absence of tolerance, backbone and decency, it is up to us to model those behaviors for our society and ourselves.

We invited our speakers and the moderator to participate only after securing their willingness to embrace the vision of this program. What we couldn’t have known initially was that their respective terms as governors overlapped in time, and, as a result, they knew each other fairly well. They described themselves as friends, an overused term to be sure, but apparently appropriate in this case. They each reflected that in contrast to their current work in cable television, their service as state governors taught them something about effective listening and a willingness to understand the other side.

Our program was designed to go beyond the spin and talking points that have become standard fare in our highly balkanized political arena. In a world in which Americans, according to Tom Nelson of the US Naval War College and author of The Death of Expertise, “no longer distinguish the phrase, ‘You’re wrong’ from the phrase ‘you’re stupid,’” we were committed to ask less about individual policies and more about the underlying values that informed the governors’ positions.

Early on in our planning one thing became abundantly clear. In our country everyone, without exception, believes in the value of civil discourse. And just so long as they do not have to hear from people they disagree with, everything will be just great! From the time we announced the program the early tweets and social media commentary reaffirmed just how much our foray into civility in discourse was needed. We were, to be candid, a bit concerned about the possibility of protests and disruptions from the audience. As an academic and an executive, I must say you haven’t lived until you’ve contemplated a plan for dealing with disturbances, on the one hand, while insisting that any such outbursts be dealt with in accordance with the principles of civility and respect that were the program’s very raison d’etre, on the other.

To be sure, there were more than a few murmurings to be heard from the nearly 350 people in the audience when one controversial perspective or another was articulated. But in general, people comported themselves in accordance with the behavior they witnessed on the stage in front of them – good humor, respectful disagreement, and a genuine desire to speak with, not at, each other.

During my introduction to the program, I projected a color-coded slide of pages from the Talmud. I explained that even without knowing the content of the text, its format is striking and instructive. Down the center, along the margins, and across the bottom of every page of Talmud are long running arguments and deep disagreements, spanning a broad continuum of issues and ideologies. Unlike the popular tendency to conflate disagreement with disrespect, the bubble-busting rabbis of old preserved for posterity not only their opinions but those of their opponents as well. Long before rushing to resolve an argument in their favor, they studied and esteemed those points-of-view with which they vehemently disagreed, because they understood that discerning the truth means encountering and learning from perspectives other than our own. Their gift to us, particularly during these tumultuous times, is the knowledge that even more important than winning an argument is learning to appreciate the arguments of others. Elu v’elu, they remind us, “Both perspectives are,” divrei elohim chayim – “the words of the living God.”

When I walked into the reception following the program, the first two comments I heard captured the day’s essence. The first came from a slightly angry millennial who expressed disappointment that the moderator allowed “Huckabee to go on much too long.” This was followed almost immediately by a middle-aged individual who liked the program except that the moderator’s “obvious liberal bias clearly favored Granholm.” In some significant way, these back-to-back comments proved the point of the day. Naïve as this may sound, something else happened during the reception as well; audience members from across the political divide engaged in serious conversations with both former governors and with others in attendance. To be sure, partisans lined up for photos and discussion with the governor whose position most aligned with their own. But people also went out of their way to ask questions and even spar a bit with the governor they never would have voted for, endeavoring to offer their positions while also listening to opinions other than their own.

The goal of political discourse or even the conversations we have at our upcoming seder tables ought not be about winning arguments. Rather, the purpose ought to be about learning to listen and respect, to challenge and be challenged. Civility in discourse does not mean having to change your mind or shy away from deeply held convictions. It means being open to learning something new about an opposing perspective even if you hold fast to your prior beliefs.

If that happens it does not really matter if red becomes blue or progressive becomes conservative. If even for a little while we can say, “I didn’t really change my mind after talking with her, but I learned something I had never thought about previously,” then to that we might say dayeinu – just that would be sufficient … at least for now.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

It’s Time to Talk About Gender Again

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

As a Professor and the CEO of an Institute dedicated to growing lay and professional leaders, I am increasingly concerned that even our most enlightened programs of training and development are failing to address critical issues related to gender in the nonprofit workplace.[1] Approaching this season of introspection and reflection, my hope is that as a Jewish community we can shine a new light on these matters, which we ignore at our peril. I arrive at these conclusions not because I am so sophisticated or progressive, but because, as Rabbi Hanina might say [2], I have learned the most about this issue from my female graduate students and alumnae.

My concerns go well beyond the issues first brought to our attention several years ago by the pioneers in the field, Shifra Bronznick and her colleagues, who taught us about glass ceilings, gender inequity, work-life balance, family friendly policies, and leveling the playing field. With reverence, we stand on their shoulders even as we (and they) must now contemplate new challenges pertaining specifically to how we teach about gender in leadership.

In suggesting that we must go beyond those first generation issues, I do not mean to imply that we are even close to having resolved them. Anyone in Jewish life who believes we no longer have a problem because the number of female CEOs has increased, or because a few intrepid scholars now insist that they will only appear on panels that are gender balanced, or even because more organizations than ever have adopted maternity and paternity leave policies, is missing the point.

Despite these significant accomplishments, we now know that puncturing the glass ceiling is only part of the issue. Many women with no stated interest in the number one slot still face enormous challenges as leaders. And even in those organizations that have adopted the right personnel policies, there is still much to be done when it comes to training men and women about the challenges of gender in today’s Jewish organizational infrastructure.

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Though there is considerable research from both the Jewish community and the corporate arena delineating challenges women face when climbing the leadership ladder – issues that range from family responsibilities to the presence of blatant discrimination, and the absence of mentorship – we rarely discuss these things in our leadership training programs. Nor are we bringing the sometimes-harsh realities of the workplace into our classroom analyses. Failure to talk about these obstacles to growth means that our female and male leaders are not being supported in their career trajectories, and they are not being sensitized to the critical impact these issues have on their own work and the future of their organizations.

As we endeavor to fine-tune our training programs – locally and nationally – the issue of leadership style must be addressed head on. Though there is scholarly disagreement about the existence of a so-called male or female approach to leading, there is considerable research supporting the notion that there may, in fact, be real differences in the way women and men: negotiate, supervise, take risks, argue, compete and collaborate. We owe it to ourselves as a community to understand more about how our male and female leaders lead and what we can learn and teach others from those experiences.

Also important to examine in this regard are distinctions in the way people respond to leaders of different genders, a classic example of which is how aggressive behavior in a man is perceived as strength, while a woman behaving similarly is understood to be nasty, bossy, or worse. A related matter pertains to what is often called “benevolent sexism,” when male supervisors are well intentioned and try to do the right thing, but nevertheless behave in ways that reaffirm antiquated notions about women needing to be protected. This too is an area that should be included in our training programs for aspiring leaders regardless of gender.

Even as the thinking in these areas is far from monolithic, imagine the potential upside if we took the time to talk with both women and men about the differences between stereotypically male (agentic) and female (collaborative/communal) approaches to leadership. These discussions might then be followed by an exploration of a variety of hybrid models, in which the best of agentic and collaborative styles (sometimes referred to as an androgynous style of leadership) becomes a useful prototype for contemporary nonprofit leaders. Not insignificantly, these latter approaches share a great deal with classical Jewish teachings on leadership and should be incorporated into today’s training programs.

Notwithstanding the fact that these more enlightened approaches to effective leadership are informed by both Jewish tradition and best practices from academe, they must still be viewed, at least in part, through the lens of gender. In my own classes, for example, our students learn about the virtues of anavah, humility in leadership, and about power sharing and collaboration, particularly as they apply in a nonprofit setting.

Yet, while women and men appreciate the objective potency of these concepts, the reality is they do not always see the same things when refracting leadership through the prism of their own experiences. As a female student recently pointed out, “he [a male classmate] can afford to be humble at work. He’s already perceived as confident and competent. When I am humble I am most likely to be perceived as weak and insecure.” Similarly, following a discussion of shared power and collaboration, a recent alumna told me that while she embraces the wisdom of “putting the right people around the table” in order to make better decisions, she worries that as a woman she will be thought of as incompetent and unable to make tough decisions herself, if she doesn’t project a more aggressive persona.

To be clear, I believe that humble leaders are better leaders and that, particularly in the nonprofit arena, leaders who collaborate are far more effective than those who insist upon a top-down, command and control style. But leadership training must do more than convey important concepts of effective leadership. And we must be sure not to paint with too broad a brush. Even the most progressive insights must be coupled with the realities of the contemporary nonprofit workplace.

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To make explicit what I have already intimated, women are not the only ones who need to grapple with the challenges of being a woman leader. Interviews I conducted with my alumni suggest that male colleagues, supervisors, and direct reports need an understanding of the dynamics at play as well. Published data about the experience of female leaders that is well corroborated, and broadly acknowledged by women, seem to astound many male coworkers. While women, for example, are long familiar with the dynamic of having their ideas ignored or dismissed, only to be embraced later when articulated by a man, many men remain unaware that this even happens. Similarly, workplace research affirms that men tend to interrupt their female colleagues at much higher rates, yet few men indicate any understanding that this is the case. Other examples of issues long known to women leaders but largely unknown or ignored by their male counterparts include: the widely reported sense that women must be better than their male colleagues just to keep pace, the disproportionately onerous challenges women with children face as they try to navigate the organizational hierarchy, and the fact that knowledgeable men are often thought of as well-versed, while a knowledgeable woman must guard against being dismissed as a “know it all.”

I am not making the argument that an understanding of these issues is all it takes to effect real change. Nor would I suggest that every male leader cares enough to do so. I do believe, however, that programs of leadership training have an obligation to explore these matters in depth as a prelude to effectuating changes in attitude. While I may be naive, I remain convinced that some of the challenges we face with regard to gender in leadership are the result of ignorance not malevolence.

~ ~ ~

My focus to this point has been on the need to train our entry- to mid-career level communal professionals about the impact of gender in leadership. While essential, that is only part of the task. CEOs, donors, and board members can play outsized roles in addressing some of these issues. Here again, it is my contention that since part of the problem stems from cluelessness and insensitivity not pure prejudice, much can be accomplished by expanding the training we provide to senior leaders. Sadly, however, these veterans are the least likely to receive training, which only exacerbates an already challenging situation.

The Hebrew folk expression – ba’al ha’me’a hu ba’al ha’de’a – the master of the coin is the master of the idea is a perfect summary of life in an eleemosynary system. Philanthropists, foundations, and trustees have it within their power to exert significant influence within their organizations. So too, though for slightly different reasons, do well-respected chief executives. It is critical, therefore, that leadership training programs help prepare and sensitize an organization’s highest echelon to the impact personal behaviors and institutional policies can have in either advancing or impeding women as leaders within their enterprise. This begins with recognizing that gender in leadership must be included as a part of the training agenda. It requires female and male faculty members capable of introducing relevant research, who are also able to facilitate meaningful group exchanges around key issues. And, most importantly, it requires a Problem-Based Learning Approach, in which participants drive the discussion and work through real-world issues with the help of their co-learners and instructors.

In addition, and painful as it is to acknowledge, our senior leaders, both lay and professional, must be trained specifically to understand issues related to sexual harassment and abuse in our Jewish nonprofit organizations. Today we have real reason to be concerned. Though the plural of “anecdote” is not “data,” we can no longer turn a blind eye to the steady flow of testimonies from female employees, including rabbis, development professionals and CEOs, that attest to: sexual innuendo, inappropriate touching, off-color jokes, propositions, and more. While a variety of research has been published, including a 1993 survey that found that 70% of women rabbis have been sexually harassed, there is more recent and deeply disturbing material that has yet to be released publically.

One such analysis suggests that as many as 40% of female fundraisers and significant numbers of women CEOs have experienced inappropriate sexual advances from supervisors and donors. Female development officers, including some of my own alumnae, report rising levels of concern when, in the name of good stewardship, they are asked to meet a donor at his office or for drinks. Reports of inappropriate contact at conferences or parlor events are not uncommon. Some women have even noted attempts to leverage a financial contribution to their organization in return for a subsequent “social” engagement. While no reported incidents sunk to the level of what some respondents termed, “Ari Shavit-like” in nature (referencing the Israeli writer who admitted to being the journalist accused of assaulting a reporter from the LA Jewish Journal), these reports scream out for our collective attention. I would appeal to those who have assembled these as-yet-unreleased-data to publish them, and if their research methodologies are not up to professional standards (as some have suggested), I would hope they would turn to those in the academy who can help them, and the rest of us, secure accurate information. For the sake of all the principles we hold dear, suggestions of widespread sexual harassment across Jewish communal organizations cannot be allowed to fester.

Understanding the situation is the first step. Training senior leaders and victims of harassment to deal with these matters is the next. While we need not reinvent the wheel, as there are many valuable resources to help nonprofits in this regard, we must acknowledge that this will not be easy. If, as suggested, some of our community’s leaders and philanthropists are, in fact, part of the problem, we must confront this directly, with clarity and determination. Concerted efforts must be made to incorporate a full exploration of these matters into our programs of leadership training.

~ ~ ~

Those of us who care about the future of Jewish communal leadership cannot afford to rest on the laurels of the status quo. While we take pride in the progress made to date, we must acknowledge that there is so much more to do when it comes to enhancing the development of the women and men who lead our communities. In my work at Spertus I have come to recognize that as an Institute for Jewish Leadership we are obligated to re-evaluate what we teach about gender in leadership. We have modified our course work to include expanded discussions about the issues identified in this piece, and we will continue to do so. We seek to learn more about the experiences of our female graduate students and alumnae as they attempt to synthesize their leadership studies with the organizational realities at work. We will continue to probe these matters with our male students as well. Through our Center for Jewish Leadership, we are expanding our public programming to help professionals and lay leaders take concrete steps to enhance the leadership of the women in our organizations. We claim no monopoly in this arena and in the New Year ahead invite colleagues to be in touch, to share their experiences, insights, failures and successes.

[1] I acknowledge that for some, my interest in exploring these matters may be suspect, both because I am a man, and because definitions of gender identity are evolving beyond traditional binary categories. In the course of my investigation I consulted with a number of well-respected female researchers, including one of the country’s preeminent scholars of gender and leadership. Each urged me to continue my exploration. This paper is a testament to their encouragement.
[2] I am pleased to provide a full list of source citations for interested readers.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

John From Haywood County

About an hour’s drive from Asheville, NC, on the Tennessee border is a bald mountain known as Max Patch. Situated along the Appalachian Trail, it is reputed to have exquisite vistas and cool trails (here “cool” also refers to the temperatures). I say “reputed” because, despite my best intentions, I have yet to experience this hiking Mecca.

It’s not that I didn’t try. One morning while in Asheville not too long ago Mrs. Lewis and I set out for Max Patch, to experience its beauty and learn some new trails. What we learned instead was something much more valuable. Here’s the abridged version.

We left the highway as the GPS instructed and got onto a beautiful country road, the kind John Denver once mused about. The pavement soon became gravel – no worries, the GPS seemed to anticipate that. Soon after, we were informed we’d be turning left in 750 feet, and sure enough, as we approached, a “road” appeared on the left. Now to this point, I had no reason to distrust Google Maps. Everything seemed perfectly on schedule, and she (the Google Maps lady) had heretofore never disappointed me.

I made the left and within moments began to suspect we were in serious trouble. My white rented Toyota Corolla (the name of the rental car company has been withheld to protect my credit rating) was quickly no match for the narrow muddy rutted road that had become our new home. A few more feet and I began looking for a place to turn around, but before I knew what was happening, I found myself staring directly at a steel gate blocking any further progress, a steel gate, by the way, with the largest padlock this city slicker has ever seen.

What happened next still haunts me. Lacking confidence in both the ability of my car to gain sufficient traction (it had poured the night before so the road was submerged) and my own ability to back all the way out, I decided to execute what might be called a three (hundred?) point turn. (Though parallel parking has never been my thing, I was always quite good at the 3-point turn, so even if it was going to take me more tries than three, I figured I’d be okay … eventually.)

Readers, especially those who know me, which is to say everyone who reads this blog, will not be surprised that it was only a matter of minutes before I was now perfectly horizontal across the narrow muddy rutted road, unable to go forward (owing to a large tree followed by a sheer cliff) or backward (thanks to a muddy, slippery mountain side). Truly I had met both my rock and my hard place at the selfsame moment on the selfsame North Carolina back road.

As you might imagine, all was calm between Mrs. Lewis and me. We embraced with the cool headedness that often accompanies moments of crises. “Oh well,” I said cheerily, “perhaps we’ll see Max Patch another time.” No name calling, no accusations, no “woulda shoulda coulda’s.” Peace and tranquility abode. Okay, maybe my memory is a bit faulty on this one.

Anyway, it became clear that we had no choice but to hike out, re-trekking on foot the narrow muddy rutted road, back to the gravel, in hopes of finding a bar – not the libation kind, though that might have been welcome – but the cell phone kind, because at that point not only were we stranded we had no way to share the happy news. Can you hear me now?

As we returned to the comforting crunch of gravel we noted, as if in a horror film, a hand lettered wooden sign, nailed to a tree with the words “Max Patch” in faded white paint, pointing in a slightly different direction than we had just come from. Sometimes things are best left unsaid.

We walked on that car-less gravel road for God knows how long, until finally, I thought I heard the sound of something other than mosquitoes buzzing. Recalling the lessons I learned years ago from Tonto, I fell prostrate, placed my ear to the stones only to jump up in just enough time to avoid being hit by an approaching car. Mustering my mountain suave, I hailed the driver, a young woman with two kids in her superannuated Nissan on their way, you guessed it, to Max Patch, and asked if she happened to have a working cell phone. “Not out here,” she noted bemusedly. I explained our situation, fully expecting her to shrug her tattoo covered shoulders when she proffered what would be the first of several surprises that day.

“I’m a first responder for Haywood County,” she said, checking to make sure that (except for my pride) we were uninjured. And though her walkie-talkie also had no reception, she offered, even on her day off, to turn around and drive (what turned out to be miles) back to the local fire department, where she assured me “one of our guys” would come back with an emergency vehicle that would be able to tow our now plunged Toyota out of its muddied morass.

Mustering the only dignity I had left, I offered to pay this nice lady for her troubles. She pshawed and told me “this is what I do.” During the 30 minutes (that felt like days) when I was certain she’d never come back, I got to thinking. All the cash in my cargo shorts, to say nothing of the impressive collection of credit cards in my backpack, and the fully charged battery in my latest-edition iPhone meant nothing. Equally as useless at that moment were my doctorate, my Zegna suits, and my impressive list of publications. We were stranded and I was just beginning to learn a lesson about humility and rethinking my own assumptions.

When “nice lady” returned (I’m embarrassed to say I never got her name) she was followed, as promised, by John in his big red truck. In addition to being a volunteer firefighter in Haywood County, John also saves lives and property all over the world as a US Forest Service firefighter, battling those huge wildfires we hear about on the news. Turns out, John was a hero to others long before he touched my life.

During the next several hours John: (i) drove us back out to the site of that narrow muddy rutted road, only to determine his big red truck was much too large for the task at hand, (ii) returned us to his fire department, where he swapped the county’s emergency vehicle for his personal pickup truck, and (iii) then made yet another trip, this time all the way to the scene of our abandoned vehicle. At one point, during our odyssey, I gathered from an overheard radio transmission that John had other commitments that day, which, without thinking twice, he simply put on hold to help out his pitiful charges.

Though our conversations were economical, to say the least, I did learn a bit about his life, his arrested alcoholism (he was now 24 and had given up drinking three years earlier), his girl friend, his distrust of GPS’s, the gun culture he treasured, and quite a bit more. In case you were wondering, throughout it all I chose not to reciprocate by discussing my life, my religious worldview, or my latest areas of academic research.

As we approached the vehicle, John, in what seemed like one fluid motion, put his truck in park and dove headfirst into the mud to affix the chains underneath our formerly white Toyota. I will spare you the harrowing details that followed, but spinning wheels, intense G-force, burning rubber and repeated heart palpitations don’t begin to describe it all. John’s impressive array of ingenuity, tenacity, and sheer determination ultimately straightened the car, with nary a scratch to any bumper or axle. Because I was still too wimpy and more than a bit shell-shocked to try to back out myself, John improvised a one-man Pas de deux in which he backed up his truck, then my car, then his truck, then my car, and so on, until he found a place to turn us both around.

It was clear to me that this man, whom I never would have met given the normal trajectories of our lives, had rescued us from what could have been a disaster. As our time together was coming to an end, it seemed that the only thing I could do to express my appreciation was to pay him for the unprecedented amount of time he spent with us. While I don’t know anything about his financial situation I can only imagine that some additional dollars might have been helpful. Yet, just as with “nice lady,” he emphatically refused to accept any pecuniary gesture of our gratitude. This time, however, we weren’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

I insisted; he refused. Then Mrs. Lewis implored, and he refused again. We appealed to his sense of chivalry and begged him to use the money to take his girlfriend to dinner(s). Again he declined. Finally, I suggested that if he didn’t want to take the money for himself, he could contribute it to charity. A smile illumined his otherwise stoic visage. “I’ll give it to the fire department!” he proclaimed. At long last an agreement had been reached, and in that instance the eternally grateful Lewises of Chicago and Asheville became the largest single donors to the Haywood County, NC Fire Department, an enduring source of pride for both of us.

So what does all this mean? Among the lessons I learned that day these five seem the most poignant.

First, when it comes to GPS’s, Ronald Reagan was right, trust but verify.

Second, while money might buy you access in the big city, it “dudn’t do squat” in the backwoods. The same might be said about an academic pedigree.

Third, the best time to back up is the first moment the thought occurs to you (at least insofar as narrow muddy rutted roads are concerned).

Fourth, we’ve got to get over ourselves. Tons of ink have already been spilled about how “silo-ed” and balkanized we are as a nation. I’m not sure this rant has anything more to contribute. But what I learned from “nice lady” and John from Haywood County that day is that there are really good, kind, generous people in this country, including those I might too quickly be inclined to stereotype. Rural people aren’t stupid and they’re not necessarily hostile to city folks either.

I’m pretty sure the two people we met on our trip to Max Patch weren’t credentialed or cosmopolitan by many people’s standards, including, to be truthful, my own. They probably don’t drink fine single malt, and I would guess that we like different movies, music and television shows. I didn’t ask, but I don’t think there were a lot of political progressives in the surrounding woods. And while these are normally pretty important metrics for me, that day I learned that they don’t tell the whole story by any means.

I’ve always known I live comfortably ensconced in a bubble, and my trip to Max Patch was hardly the beginning of my move to the other side. But what that adventure did teach me is that people who live in other bubbles often treasure the same things I do – generosity, kindness, helpfulness, and a sense of responsibility to their fellow human beings. They also know that there are things more important in life than money.

I don’t mean to overstate the issue or to sound too preachy. I’m still pretty sure that if John and I sat down to discuss gun control, immigration, or the environment, there’d be plenty to disagree about. But I hope the next time I conflate a twang with low intellect or rush to dismiss a resident of rural America as a mindless, heartless redneck that the images of “nice lady” and John from Haywood County jump into my head and make me think again.

Fifth, if you’re going to take a rental car down a narrow muddy rutted road the day after a storm, it shouldn’t be white.

First and Third, One Man Out

In the same week the Jewish world lost one of the great educators of our time, Jonathan Woocher, I had my own educational epiphany, the result of a most-unlikely happenstance. The precedent details are too boring to explain, except to say that on the evening of July 4^th I found myself in the stands of a summer collegiate baseball game in beautiful Wahconah Park, Pittsfield, MA. Accompanying me that evening was, among others, a decorated war hero of the Israeli Army, a sophisticated gentleman whose cosmopolitan bona fides are second to none. I mention his worldliness to underscore my surprise when I learned that theretofore he had never been to a baseball game, nor was he at all familiar with any of its rules, customs, or traditions. Keep in mind this was not a cloistered soccer-obsessed Israeli, but rather a well-travelled citizen of the world. Nonetheless, as unlikely an eventuality as it seemed to me, my new friend was totally unfamiliar with, and unappreciative of, what, since 1856, has been America’s pastime.

Through some cosmic serendipity and the intercession of a mutual friend, it fell to me to be his teacher that night. And believe me, it did not start well. Though he admitted knowing nothing about the sport, he was nonetheless, quite sure it was boring, and not worth his energy. After some time, however, his intellect and native curiosity got the best of him and he allowed me to introduce him to the ins and outs of the game.

As a fan since childhood, it never occurred to me that baseball was complicated or potentially off-putting. Only through the eyes of my Israeli friend did I come to appreciate the nuance. Balls and strikes – why are pitches out of the strike zone called balls, when the spheroid in question is also called a ball? And why are foul balls, strikes, except after the second one? Why are there three men at first base (it never dawned on me to explain the presence of the coach)? Why must a runner return to the base if, with less than two outs, his teammate hits a fly ball that is caught, while a ball hit on the ground during similar circumstances obligates him to run to the next base? And so on through the innings. I tried to read his mind, and when that wasn’t possible, I did my best to patiently respond to the queries I could never have foreseen.

As the evening wore on my friend seemed a bit more at ease with the game (fortunately the infield fly rule was never invoked), and with his growing understanding, his interest peaked. With each passing at-bat he sought to know more and more, proving, as Socrates taught that it is almost impossible to educate someone with an answer until he or she is invested in asking a question.

At some point during the evening, it hit me. Education in general, and adult Jewish education, in particular, is not dissimilar from teaching baseball to a grown up. In the beginning, everything is alien and remote, and since adults are not used to feeling that way, responses range from frustration to ennui. After all, who can blame someone for having no interest in baseball when they can’t tell the difference between a balk and a batboy?

The same, it seems to me, can be said about all things Jewish, particularly in the synagogue realm, where, to the uninitiated, the “rules of the game” are just as daunting and foreign as baseball was to my friend in Pittsfield, Mass. For the untutored, a non-native language, coupled with alien rituals, strange “uniforms,” rules that appear to lack any rationale, and a much less friendly crowd in the seats than can be found at most hometown baseball games, all combine to make the synagogue experience uninviting at best. And it only gets worse. Imagine how truly weird it must be to go to a Jewish wedding or to pay a shiva call, to attend a baby naming or brit milah, to search for hametz or welcome imaginary guests to a sukkah, when those practices are as strange as a pick off move to first or a squeeze play at home to the baseball novitiate.

Early in my experience as baseball-tutor-for-a-night, it became clear to me that to be successful I needed to put myself squarely in the mindset of my charge. I had to anticipate his questions based on what was happening at the moment and to respond without judgment to his interrogatories. Given the imbalance between us – I knew the game, he did not – I sought to avoid even the appearance of condescension and censoriousness. Imagine the outcome when an already vulnerable learner is made to feel embarrassed, however subtly, because of what she does not know.

Here again, my decades as an adult educator came to mind. How many times do those in organized Jewish life make newcomers feel unwelcome, not because we are brazenly unfriendly, but because our tone and tenor convey disdain and superiority to those unfamiliar with the rules? How many times and in how many ways do we blame or condemn the seeker for not understanding what we take for granted? How many times do we fail to recognize that what is often expressed as boredom or disaffection may really be a reflection of non-understanding? And then, how many times do we ignore the basics of good pedagogy by thinking we can make Judaism relevant by a one-size-fits-all sermon, by tinkering with the dues structure of our institutions, or by the amorphous admonition to go and study? Painful as it may be to admit, Judaism is no more meaningful or compelling to those unfamiliar with its ways than baseball was to my Israeli friend. (I will refrain from noting that Judaism is often equally as irrelevant to the lives of Israelis as is baseball – but that’s another story.)

To suggest that Jews and those who love them should find relevance in Judaism on the basis of genetics alone is to insist that residents of the U.S. should love baseball simply because it has been dubbed the national pastime. If I don’t “get” the rules, if I have never been exposed to the stratagems, nuances, and, indeed, the beauty of the game, then in what universe is it reasonable to insist I should treasure the inheritance I never asked for nor never wanted?

To be clear, there is only a slim chance that my Israeli friend will ever find himself back in a baseball stadium. A few hours at the park, and an initial exposure to the game’s memes are insufficient to develop a deep love. And, in point of fact, even if he were steeped in the game, he might not find it intriguing, compelling, or personally relevant. The same must be said about the Jewish experience as well. Basic understanding is necessary but not sufficient to developing a lifelong attachment. But unless we are prepared to invest in the acquisition of that basic understanding – through highly personalized coaching and learning – unless our approaches begin with a recognition that adults learn when they are sufficiently inspired to ask questions, and unless we make Judaism intelligible and accessible for our adult learners, unless we do all this, well … simply put, we will never even get to first base.

What’s Wrong With You? Or Is It Me?

Now that I blog, people tell me I have license to complain about things. Truth is, that’s what has always annoyed me about this so-called “literary-form” from the very beginning (see my inaugural post). Who gives a rat’s ass about my rants particularly when they concern things beyond my putative wheelhouse? (By the way, what exactly is a wheelhouse and when did it become code for expertise?)

My discomfort with the blogosphere notwithstanding, and since the purpose of this rarely read endeavor is to more finely tune my writing skills, there is something I would like to whine about. To wit, the refusal of so many colleagues, interlocutors, and would be confederates to respond to my email messages in a timely fashion (i.e. within 24 hours absent some form of reasonable explanation: weekends, holidays, illness, travel).

Seriously, why can’t you answer my damn email? Almost without exception, I find time to respond to any non-commercial message that makes it to my Inbox. Doing otherwise is just plain rude. And, as mom always said, it doesn’t cost anything to be a mensch. Besides, I don’t send email to exercise my fingers or to waste your time. While perhaps not earth-shattering, the emails I send requesting a response should be responded to, however briefly or perfunctorily. Yet, days, weeks, sometimes eternities go by without the courtesy of a reply. I don’t get it!

For many years, friends and loved ones have accused me of over-thinking, and I admit to doing the very same in this regard. When my emails go unanswered I seek explanations, and run myself through a series of mental gymnastics, because (truth be told) it is entirely unthinkable to me that you could simply ignore my electronic correspondence. Here are some of the mind games I find myself playing:

You’re busy. I’m sure that’s true, but so am I. I didn’t write to chitchat. Answer my email, then delete it (or file it), and you’re ahead of the game. One small step towards an empty Inbox. And if you can’t get back to me right away, why not send a quick email saying just that?
Lost in cyberspace. I’ve tried the “perhaps my email got lost” thing, and found it wanting. While it sometimes elicits an embarrassed response, my email has never actually gotten lost in the cloud or anywhere else.
Tomayto Tomahto – I have come to understand that not everyone shares my obsession with prompt replies. Frankly, I don’t know what to do with this, even if it is true. Because let’s say I allow for the possibility that some perfectly decent person feels no obligation to respond in what I consider a reasonable timeframe, how long am I supposed to wait? What exactly is the email statute of limitations?
It’s not all about me – People have other priorities, I know. Wait, did I just say that?
Something’s happened – I cannot count the number of times while waiting for an overdue response that my mind conjures up a tragic scenario in which something terrible has occurred in your life, thus explaining your otherwise inexplicable tardiness. Happily, no such tragedy has ever happened, which further raises the question, “why can’t you answer my damn email?”
On the road again – You’re traveling again and somehow my email fell through the cybernetic cracks (again). Curious, since I somehow manage to answer all my email even when I’m on the road and overseas. Hmm.
You don’t actually want to answer my email – No excuses, no concocted explanations; it’s a simple leftward swipe for email, leaving me with a heavy heart and the incontrovertible conclusion that you’re ‘just not that into me.’

I’m sure it never occurs to my non-responsive colleagues that their failure to answer my emails delays, upends, or otherwise convolutes my next steps. Not that their job is to make mine easier, but it certainly seems that a timely response would, to paraphrase Tevye, hardly spoil some vast eternal plan, and could, in fact, make things better for all of us.

On a few occasions, I have been privileged to work with individuals who go out of their way to respond to emails, even when they are busy, traveling, on vacation, or otherwise preoccupied. Since the dawn of the age of email, I have certainly tried to do the same, despite the occasional inconvenience or time crunch.

All of this having been said, I cannot help but wonder if there’s something wrong with you, or if it’s me. Are my expectations so unreasonable or selfish? Please let me know because right now I remain mystified by your discourteousness. And if you don’t want to respond to this query, that’s fine. Just answer my damn email.

A Note to the Team At Work

Dear Colleagues:

The issue of personal loyalty has so dominated the news of late that I thought I’d take a moment to offer a few thoughts on the subject. I’d like to think that I have been clear about this all along but the shock waves out of Washington these days have inspired me to leave nothing to chance.

Loyalty matters in our organization and nothing should suggest otherwise. Each of us has a personal responsibility to our customers and stakeholders, our donors, colleagues, and “users.” Loyalty lies at the core of the sacred contract we ‘sign’ when we come to work in the nonprofit sector. Funders invest in our cause in part because they trust us to be faithful emissaries and advocates. They believe in our fidelity to the highest ethical standards of stewardship and doing what is right.

As your CEO, I too expect loyalty. We cannot do the difficult work that needs to be done if we are each rowing in different directions. Personal agendas must, of necessity, give way to the needs of the organization writ large. Even decisions you don’t agree with (provided they are not illegal or immoral) require your support and spirited endorsement.

But, as a former American President (much in the news of late) was fond of saying, “Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” Loyalty to me can never be about blind obeisance. When I ask for your loyalty, I am asking for your devoted support, and that can only happen when you provide me with your honest opinions and insights, even when they differ from my own. You work here precisely because senior leadership and I value your skillsets and your judgment. And because we work as a team, I seek that judgment on a daily basis, fully understanding that your wisdom and my instincts won’t always overlap. Keep in mind, however, that you cannot be loyal to me if you only tell me what you think I want to hear.

Leaders make a grievous mistake when they bifurcate honesty and allegiance. Indeed, mendacity in the name of loyalty is treacherous. In this organization there is a difference between fidelity and sycophancy. No leader can afford to suffer the ill effects of what Patrick Lencioni calls “terminal correctness,” certainly not I. My job is to provide a safe space for robust debate with impunity, motivated only by a desire to make the best decisions for our stakeholders. Your job is to reciprocate, by providing me with the kind of truthful input and feedback that define genuine personal loyalty.

The Hebrew word ne’emanut – loyalty – shares the same root with words meaning truthfulness and faithfulness. Let there be no doubt that when we speak of loyalty around here we are not talking about obsequiousness. Loyalty is about honesty and fealty to the cause and to our moral code, and we only get there when we are truthful with each other. To be sure, we won’t always agree, and there will be times when I make decisions you won’t like and vice versa. But when we are loyal to each other, to those we serve, and to our mission, unquestioned servility is not the answer. We must be willing to point out the weaknesses of each other’s argument, to ask hard questions, to push back, and to challenge. These are the true hallmarks of loyalty.

As always, please let me know if you have questions, comments, thoughts, or suggestions.

Loyally yours,

Leading Means Having To Say You’re Sorry

I have no idea if Erich Segal was right in averring that, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Such matters are far removed from my area of expertise. But I am pretty sure that as a leader there is something inordinately important about taking responsibility for my actions. And, on those (not infrequent) occasions when I make mistakes, in owning them and admitting wrongdoing.

The very fact of assuming this position relegates me, in some people’s minds, to a place of derision these days. To them, I deserve to be consigned to the camp of weak and vulnerable leaders who think it better to apologize than to remain implacable. In this view, apologies have become the telltale signs of pusillanimity, the antitheses of strong and courageous leadership.

What is it about an apology that forces so many leaders across the corporate-political-communal spectrum to retreat to the double-down redoubts of their inner psyches? Why does the prospect of saying, “I’m sorry,” cause leaders and their advisors to contort themselves in ways that would make Gumby jealous?

For many leaders, confessing a mistake is tantamount to providing an opening for enemies to strike them when they are down. Thus, rather than admit an error, it is far better to defend oneself by reaffirming the original position. Doing so is believed to send a message of strength and resoluteness.

This kind of thinking is antiquated and rooted in a militaristic macho mindset that understands leadership to be a zero-sum game. I win only when you lose, and if you were to win, particularly because I was forced into an apology, I would lose, a wholly untenable eventuality. Hence, no regrets; nothing to apologize for.

Instead of owning up, these leaders blame others. This is what the medieval Spanish Jewish philosopher, Joseph Albo, referred to as “self excuse.” Shifting the blame to other individuals or external factors: “I was misinformed;” “I heard this from someone else;” “my team let me down,” may be commonplace, but it is the very antithesis of effective leadership. As Albo said, “self excuse” is not a pretext, because “man was given reason so that he should always watch his conduct…” Leaders must model the kind of behavior they expect from others. Failing to hold themselves accountable, to take personal responsibility sets the tone for others to behave similarly.

In Jewish sources then, admitting a mistake is a sign of strength, not weakness. Despite our many differences, all people transgress, and fallibility is endemic to the human condition. Our very imperfections are what distinguish us from the realm of the divine. “There is no person who does not sin,” records the Bible on more than one occasion. But more importantly, our ability to admit mistakes, to apologize for them, and to self-correct going forward, is what separates us from the animals. “Sin couches at the door,” God tells Cain, “Yet you can be its master.”

Our ability to mid-course correct, to admit our errors, and learn from them, is critical for effective leaders. As the business consultant and author, Patrick Lencioni, makes clear in his book, Getting Naked, when a leader acknowledges her vulnerability and embraces uncommon levels of humility, selflessness and transparency, she builds trust and loyalty among stakeholders and constituents.

No leader can hope to succeed without such trust. For this reason alone those who lead would do well to set aside their antiquated apprehension of apology, to resist the temptation of doubling down or blaming others. Instead, by stepping forward with the confidence to know that everyone makes mistakes, a leader enhances his efficacy exponentially. Followers respect their leaders when they show their humanity. Those who lead must cease the foolish pretense that they are some kind of infallible deity. Part of being a confident and competent leader is a willingness to own up, not dumb down.

Blind Loyalty Is Not Loyalty At All

A new report coming out of the White House describes the “reassignment” of a respected member of the administration’s security team for disagreeing with the president. A spokesperson explained the move by saying that people who disagree with the president should not work in his White House.

Supporters of the administration wasted no time defending the decision by arguing the need for loyalty. They say, as many leaders would, that the work to be done is difficult enough without having it undercut by members of the team. A leader needs assurance that senior advisors are aligned with the mission, and if they are not, they cannot be expected to carry out the work at hand.

Others who hold leadership positions, however, have a different take. Theirs is a perspective that encourages disagreement and rejects the need for “yes men” and unwavering loyalists. To these leaders, disagreement is a means toward self-improvement. Among the most famous articulations of this approach is Doris Kearns Goodwin’s book, Team of Rivals. In this work, subtitled The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, DKG extols the leadership of the sixteenth president by highlighting his willingness to place his three most vociferous critics in his Cabinet. The author describes how President Lincoln enhanced his efficacy as a leader, surrounding himself with people who disagreed with him. His need for personal loyalty was trumped by his own loyalty to the Union and the people. For Lincoln, any suggestion that individuals who disagreed with him could not work in his White House was antithetical to his view of great leadership.

Two classical Jewish teachings come to mind in this regard. “One who studies Torah from only one teacher,” says the Talmud, “will never achieve great success.” This is a remarkable insight. Complex ideas are nuanced. Despite the need for clarity, leaders must not rush to reduce difficult issues to their simplest common denominator. We pay a heavy price when we fail to acquire an informed understanding of intricate matters. Only when we surround ourselves with multiple “teachers,” whose perspectives differ from our own, can we make the best decisions. Curiosity is among a leader’s greatest assets.

In another talmudic teaching, the rabbis relate the experience of two sages, Rabbi Yochanan and Resh Lakish, well-known study partners and impassioned interlocutors. When Resh Lakish died, “Rabbi Yochanan lamented: ‘With Resh Lakish, whenever I would say something, he would pose twenty-four challenges to me, and I would give him twenty-four solutions and as a result the subject became clear.’”

Rabbi Yochanan understood that disagreements often make us better; they allow us to sharpen our positions. Rather than view disagreements as a sign of attack or disloyalty, effective leaders understand the benefits that come from robust argumentation.

Of course, willful sabotage and assaults masquerading as critique should not be tolerated. But in fine-tuned enterprises these are few and far between. Leaders who welcome push back and create a safe environment for opposing points of view increase their knowledge and enhance their effectiveness.

The former GE Chairman, Jack Welch, hardly a self-effacing shrinking violet, noted in his book, Winning, that “The best leaders have a knack for surrounding themselves with people smarter than themselves.” When a leader is sufficiently secure and confident in her judgment, she can be open to learning from the wisdom and insights of those with dissenting perspectives, recognizing that blind loyalty is not loyalty at all.

Dysfunctional Discourse and Internecine Invective

Recently, a synagogue in downtown Chicago was vandalized. Windows were broken and swastikas were placed on the face of the building. This heinous act followed a series of nationwide bomb threats at JCCs, and increased anti-Semitism on campuses and at other Jewish communal institutions. A few days after the attack a group of nearly 1000: Christians, Moslems, and Jews gathered in the sanctuary of that congregation to express solidarity with the worshipers, and to stand with the Jewish community of greater Chicago. Even for this cynic, it was a moving and inspirational hour. Clergy and community activists said all the right things, and representatives of the Jewish community graciously acknowledged and gratefully saluted the outpouring of unanimity and concord.

Despite it’s emotional impact, I left feeling more than a bit disheartened. All the while, amidst the proclamations of unity and fraternity, I had this gnawing feeling about how the Jewish community, the object of such affection, respect, and concern that day, was itself an often-reprehensible example of the kind of disunity, enmity, and hatred being decried at that very vigil. While intra-communal examples of physical or structural violence are few and far between in the American Jewish community, the rising level of dysfunctional discourse and internecine invective is cause for growing concern.

In matters ranging from BDS to the Iran deal, self-purporting Jewish “leaders” have fallen prey to a level of vituperation, the consequences of which are devastating, and only likely to get worse. It goes without saying (though I will) that the extreme polarization following the recent US Presidential election has not left American Jewry unscathed. And as observers of the Jewish scene have noted for years, religious tensions along the left-right continuum mean that American Jews are virtual strangers, one from another.

It is ironic, but worth noting, that Jews in America today are so much more comfortable dialoguing with those of other religious faiths than with their own coreligionists. Painful as it is to acknowledge, Jewish communal leaders and clergy are more likely to engage in respectful, courteous, well-mannered, and even reverential exchanges with Christians and Moslems, despite enormous theological differences, than with Jews who hold opposing religious and political perspectives. Perhaps this is nothing more than a contemporary manifestation of the old truism that no fight is worse than a family fight. But I am hard-pressed to justify current practices as usual and customary.

To be clear, as a student of Jewish leadership I have long celebrated the values associated with that old saw: two Jews, three opinions, four organizations. Where others prefer consensus, I have always relished robust debate if it is, in the words of the Talmud, “for the sake of heaven.” Jews are the proud inheritors of a tradition that elevates and preserves differences of opinion, and we should revel in that.

But there is a difference between vigorous disputation and what the rabbis call “causeless hatred.” Human speech has the potential to ennoble and to destroy. According to the book of Proverbs, “death and life are in the power of the tongue.” And a midrash suggests that “When the tongue is good, there is nothing better; when bad, there is nothing worse.” While the sages were no strangers to impassioned argumentation, they never lost sight of the fact that language matters. In their view, debate that demonizes and delegitimizes can be the equivalent of murder.

As I have suggested, when it comes to communal debate, the goal should not be consensus for consensus’ sake. Indeed, there is no scholarly evidence that conflict-free enterprises are more efficient. In truth, most researchers agree that healthy conflict stimulates creativity. When communities are at odds over major issues, it is often far more important to first cultivate and explore dissent than to immediately force alignment.

At the same time, however, the very organizational leaders who seek commonwealth between religious traditions, who extol the benefits of communal harmony, would do well to consider why the same principles of peaceable discourse, respect, and sensitivity are so often missing from our own community conversations. Or to put it another way, why is it that we are so much better at inter-faith dialogue than intra-faith dialogue?

Dr. Hal M. Lewis is the President and Chief Executive Officer of Spertus Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership. A recognized expert on Jewish leadership, he has published widely in the scholarly and popular press. His books include Models and Meanings in the History of Jewish Leadership and From Sanctuary to Boardroom: A Jewish Approach to Leadership. He can be reached at president@spertus.edu

When Arrogance Meets Anger in Leadership

Most of us are familiar with the type. We’ve worked with them and maybe even tried to love them – individuals who live in a state of perennial woundedness. You know what I mean – the kind of people who are never happy unless they’re aggrieved. These are the folks who constantly see themselves as victims, objects of someone else’s unfair critique. They are hypersensitive to the criticisms of others and hypercritical of those around them. Never in doubt, and incapable of apology, they frequently interpret challenge as an attack on personal integrity. They are forever on guard against every slight, real or perceived.

Unfortunately, this kind of narcissistic behavior is not unique to friends and family. Far too many leaders manifest similar traits: CEOs who regularly misread differences of opinion as signs of obloquy and disloyalty; clergy who profess to welcome inquiry, but only if their teachings are embraced uncritically; elected officials who cannot accept yes for an answer and are constantly preparing for what they are certain is the next ambush.

Victims of imagined calumny, driven by insecurities, these are angry, often raging, people, unable to get out of their own way. Possessed by a sense of entitlement and what Patrick Lencioni refers to as a need for “terminal correctness,” they blame others for their troubles, and are not above manipulating “facts” to suit their own agendas. As damaging as they can be in the private realm, when they assume positions of leadership they destroy companies, organizations, and nations.

Judaism’s ethical literature (sifrut ha’musar) has a great deal to teach about this phenomenon, beginning with the relationship between arrogance and anger in leadership. According to the sixteenth century mystic, Hayyim Vital, “pride and anger are a single quality.” An inability to get beyond one’s ego impedes a leader’s ability to access the information she needs to lead effectively. Moses Hayyim Luzzatto, author of The Path of the Upright – Mesillat Yesharim (MY), argues that, “Pride is literally a form of blindness, which prevents even one who is otherwise wise from seeing his own shortcomings.” The accompanying rage can be devastating.

According to the medieval ethical work, Ways of the Righteous – Orchot Tzaddikkim (OT), an angry man “does not overlook things and does not forgive his insult; he is always vengeful and grudging.” As a leader, this individual lives in what today we would call a bubble, surrounded by like-minded sycophants, flatterers and flunkies. He shuts down questioning and meaningful information-flow because his advisors are “afraid to speak to him … lest he arouse his anger” (OT). He is like a teacher who intimidates his students. Just as such a teacher “cannot teach, for his students, fearing an angry response, will be afraid to ask him their questions” (OT), so an enraged leader is unable to lead.

An egomaniac is an extreme malcontent, never satisfied even with her own successes. Fixations repress reasoning. In this regard, we can understand why the anonymous author of Orchot Tzaddikkim said that, “anger is a disease of the soul” (OT). It leaves an out-of-control path of destruction in its wake, upending rational analyses and shattering relationships. Ironically, as the Talmud puts it, an angry person “reaps only his anger.” Desperately wanting to be loved, the angry leader makes himself an anathema, fighting constantly even with those who would be his allies and advocates.

According to Luzzatto, “The angry person would destroy the entire world if he had the power” (MY). On more than one occasion, history has made clear that when a leader is consumed by his own need to be right or obsessed with advancing his public persona above all else, the results can be devastating. If, as Luzzatto cautions, anger can cause anyone “to commit some rash deed that can never be undone” (MY), the consequences in the case of a leader are that much more perilous.

In the religious Weltanschauung of classical Jewish writings, the biggest problem with anger and arrogance is that they lead to idolatry. According to the Talmud, “He who loses his temper, even the Divine Presence is unimportant in his eyes.” Simply stated, an obsessive focus on one’s personal convictions supplants the centrality of God. Even in non-theocentric environments, like the workplace or the national government, an idée fixe predicated on the uncompromising idiosyncrasies of a particular leader distracts from the work at hand.

Of course we want our leaders in business, philanthropy, and government to be strong and resolute. But arrogance is not strength, and anger is not tenacity.

A Word (or Two) of Wisdom This Inauguration Day

Rabbi Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto (known by his initials RaMHaL) was an eighteenth-century mystic, whose most famous work is Mesillat Yesharim, The Path of the Upright. In his discussion of humility, Luzzatto notes, “You will observe that the more ignorant a man is, the more conceited he is.” In support of this contention, he goes on to cite several classical Jewish sources in rapid-fire succession. He begins with the Zohar, the quintessential work of Jewish mysticism. “When a man boasts, it is a sign that he knows nothing.” This is followed by a Talmudic aphorism from the tractate of Baba Metzia, “When there is only one penny in the pitcher, it makes much noise.” He concludes with a folkloristic text taken from Genesis Rabbah, “The trees that bear no fruit were once asked, ‘Why can one hear you rustling?’ ‘So that we might be heard and noticed,’ was their reply.”

Hypocritical Leaders

A recent NY Times column with the provocative title, “The Real Problem with Hypocrisy,” makes the counter-intuitive claim that the trouble with hypocrisy is not, as many of us believed, a “failure of will or a weakness of character.” No, the real problem with hypocrisy, according to new psychological research, is that it comes with the unspoken assumption that the “hypocrite” falsely insinuates his or her own moral virtue. “The principal offense of a hypocrite is not that he violates his own principles, but rather that his use of moral proclamations falsely implies that he behaves morally.”

What if no such implications were present? Indeed, according to the researchers, individuals who make no pretense about their own personal practice, those, for example, who say the functional equivalent of, “I think it’s morally wrong to do x, but I sometimes do it anyway,” are judged far more positively than so-called “traditional hypocrites.”

There is an important lesson for leaders in this finding. As the last presidential race made clear, accusations of hypocrisy often result in a torrent of mendacity when politicians and their surrogates rush to explain or deny disreputable behaviors. The same is true in the corporate world and the social sector.

The Talmud has a different approach to this issue of hypocrisy in leadership. “One should not appoint anyone administrator of a community,” taught the rabbis, “unless he carries a basket of reptiles on his back (i.e. something reprehensible in his background). So that if he becomes arrogant, one can tell him turn around.” Here, the rabbis raise the prospect that, not only are leaders far from perfect, but their fallibility may actually be an asset.

To be sure, the sages do not seek to elevate miscreants to positions of power. Ethical lapses, hypocrisy, and lying are all deplorable. But as long as our leaders are human, these things come with the territory. To expect leaders not to have a “basket of reptiles” on their back is to set a standard that is destined to disappoint. In our quest for perfect leaders, we encourage perfidy. As John W Gardner in his book On Leadership cautioned, “A citizenry that wants to be lied to will have liars for leaders.”

What the Times article and the Talmud suggest is that a leader who ‘owns’ his imperfections, who acknowledges her flaws, is a leader many can relate to. Apologizing for missteps is far from a sign of weakness, it is a sign of humanity. When leaders do nothing to disabuse their followers of false notions, and when their words signal a saintliness that is far from the truth, they disappoint and disillusion. The damage they do to their own reputations by sanctimony is much greater than had they modulated expectations from the start.

We will (and we should) continue to recoil at the hypocrisy of our leaders. But along the way, expectations need to be recalibrated. Leaders can manage the unreasonable standards others set for them by acknowledging their own basket of reptiles, and avoiding the self-righteousness that often accompanies moralism. As for the rest of us, we need to remember that elevating leaders to quasi-divine status is a guarantee we will be disappointed just as soon as they prove themselves to be human.

What’s In A Name?

Having made the decision (described in the prior post) to blog on a regular basis, it seems appropriate that I offer a word or two of explanation about the name Growing Leaders.

Growing Leaders is a double entendre (without the lasciviousness). In this context, the word “growing” is meant to suggest two discrete yet interrelated understandings of leadership: (1) Leaders must enhance their own skill sets and talents to be effective over time. In other words, they themselves must become “growing leaders;” and (2) Leaders must invest in and enable the leadership of others, “growing leaders” along the way.

For too many people in positions of authority, leadership is often understood as the culmination of a journey, now ended. The commitment to ongoing learning, continued experimentation and risk-taking, evanesces as rank obviates the need for personal growth. For these people, leadership is a fixed destination, a reward of sorts, not a continual process. Conflating leadership with rank is a prescription for failure. The Hebrew word for leader is manhig, from a three-letter root (N-H-G) meaning behavior. Leadership then, is about behavior not position in the organizational chart; it is a self-renewing growth process. Hence, growing leaders are leaders committed to expanding their knowledge and virtuosity, pushing themselves to new heights.

For others, even those serious about advancing and enhancing their own competencies, leading rarely includes thinking about the potential in others. Too many focus energies on expanding their own opportunities and talents, oblivious to the nurturing, training, and preparation of those who come next. At the end of his career, Moses understood the importance of paving the way for Joshua. He knew that, as Peter Drucker said, “There is no success without a successor.” In his book Winning, former GE Chairman, Jack Welch affirmed a similar sentiment, observing that, “Before you are a leader, success is all about growing yourself. After you are a leader, success is about growing others.”

In subsequent postings I hope to focus on growing leaders in the two ways I describe above. To the degree that many Americans are more trepidatious than ever before about the future of our government, the knowledge that some might be willing to improve their own leadership skills, ought provide some semblance of comfort. And as many corporate and social sector leaders contemplate the future of their organizations, a commitment to growing the leadership of those who will lead the next generation remains a key component of the work incumbents must do.

Seriously? A BLOG!

With one exception, I have consistently avoided the blogosphere throughout my career. In that one case, The Leading Edge was an attempt to repay a favor. I found the experience stressful. Once-a-month submissions are hardly onerous, but because writing is for me a painstaking process, I abandoned the effort in less than a year. Besides, I’d never been convinced that anyone reads someone else’s blog; and besides that (are you allowed to have two “besides” in one sentence?), who really cares what I think? No seriously. No false modesty here. Who cares what I think about leadership, politics, or the state of the world? After all, the airwaves and information highways are already occluded with “punditrivia” of various sorts, and I’ve never been sure I wanted to compete in that world. Moreover, because I spend a good deal of my waking hours teaching and writing about the role and place of humility in leadership, a regular foray into the self-referential world of weblogs always posed a bit of an ethical conundrum for me.

So, given all of this, why Growing Leaders, and why now? To begin with, I need to write. I don’t mean I need to write like I need food and water to live. I mean I need to work on my writing. Having been raised to love the English language, I’ve always wanted to test the limits of my perlocutionary talents. Doing so demands that I enhance both my facility and my discipline as a writer. The late poet, author, and songwriter, Leonard Cohen, often observed that for him, the creative process was more about work ethic than inspiration. Cohen would have agreed with E.B. White who cautioned that “A writer who waits for ideal conditions … will die without putting a word on paper.” With every passing day, I find this wisdom to be simultaneously commanding and daunting.

So on the one hand, committing to a regular essay (sounds so much more elegant than “blog”) is the functional equivalent of hitting the gym, call it writing myself into shape. There is, however, more to it. The other day I heard a reporter say that in the weeks since the 2016 election he has been feeling a kind of emotional whiplash. I think many Americans would agree. This presidential transition appears to be affecting people more personally and more profoundly than any other in memory. Indeed, I would say that many seem to be suffering from what might be called “Post Trumpatic Stress Disorder.”

For this reason, too, I believe that a regular column on leadership refracted through the prisms of both classical Jewish and contemporary sources may have particular resonance during these singularly disquieting times. And even if no one reads these words or the posts that follow, I am determined to craft a perspective that is more tempered than strident, less shrill and more ruminative than what often appears on the infobahn.

Whether you call it personal training, self-therapy or a leadership professor’s dream-come-true, I, now liberated from the illusion that anyone else might care, am determined to move forward. I approach this new venture understanding that the only regular reader is, in all likelihood, going to be me. For now, if that helps me become a better writer, and allows me to articulate a few thoughts more clearly and compellingly, my goal will have been met.

In the Interest of Conflicts

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

It is hard to recall a time when the interest in “conflicts of interest” has so dominated the American political landscape. During the campaign season we were inundated with allegations of improprieties from both the Clinton and Trump Foundations. And now on the eve of the inauguration, news feeds brim with talk of divestitures, dissolutions, blind trusts, and LLCs. In the weeks since the election, many learned for the first time about US Code Section 202, which exempts the President and Vice President (along with members of Congress and Federal judges) from Title 18, Section 208 of that same Code, prohibiting executive branch employees from participating in government matters in which they or their immediate family have a financial interest.

For those who love all machinations political, the theater is unprecedented and promises to provide endless hours of entertainment in the months ahead. But for those seeking to be the best leaders we can be – in our businesses, communal organizations, and religious institutions – partisan bloviation and legalistic technicalities obfuscate the larger point. For leaders, conflicts of interest matter.

In Jewish sources[1], the relation between leaders and followers is not one-way or top-down. On the contrary, leadership is an exchange, premised on a reciprocal relationship. Leaders both give to and get from their followers. They are much more than holders of office; they are servants of the community (whether that community is a corporation, a government, or a philanthropic organization). Reciprocity between leaders and followers is precisely what the great philosopher and legalist, Moses Maimonides, had in mind when he taught that a community honors itself when it honors its leaders. It follows, therefore, that any leader who dishonors herself (say by involvement in a conflict of interest) dishonors her constituents as well.

Underscoring this point, the nineteenth and twentieth-century rabbinic authority known as the Hazon Ish, wrote that when a community feels that its sages have a conflict of interest, “the whole generation is orphaned … For even if one were to recognize the greatness of … that sage no one would commit himself to abide by the sage’s decision because he appears to be in conflict of interest…”

Woven into the biblical worldview is an understanding that leaders are not above the law. There are no “authority carveouts” for those who hold high office. All leaders, even the CEO, indeed even the highest-ranking official of the land, are duty-bound to follow the law, without exemption or immunity. Strikingly, according to the Palestinian Talmud, even God is required to follow His own law.

While Jewish legal writings suggest that all individuals should avoid conflicts of interest, a special standard is articulated for those who lead. Leaders are dugmaot – role models – whose moral rectitude must exceed that of the general public. Ironically, this is true, according to the sages, because those in the public eye are more likely to be viewed with suspicion and skepticism, owing to their increased access to power, and the greater likelihood that that power will be abused. In this context, therefore, it is essential that leaders avoid such suspicion, by not only removing themselves from any conflicts of interest, but by going even further, and avoiding the very appearance of such conflicts.

This is one of the most important lessons new(ly elected) leaders must learn. Simply stated, failure to grasp the challenges of living in a fishbowl can destroy an otherwise promising leadership career. Even if the weight of public attention was never a factor in prior positions, when one becomes a leader with a public persona, the stakes change. Maimonides spoke directly to this issue in explaining the harsh punishment meted out to Moses at the waters of Meribah, resulting in the denial of his entrance to the Promised Land. “God was strict with him (Moses),” wrote the Rambam, “because the people all modeled their actions upon his and studied his every word … Everything Moses said and did was scrutinized and emulated by them.” When leaders understand that their actions are always examined and frequently mirrored, the urgent need to extricate oneself from conflicts of interest becomes a preeminent priority.

Invoking an ancient lexicon that can easily be rendered into a contemporary patois, rabbinic writings are filled with powerful examples of leaders who take concrete steps to remove themselves from situations of conflict. Kings and priests cannot occupy a seat on the High Court because of the potential, however remote, that their rulings will unfairly advantage their positions. Charity collectors and other officials must commit themselves to stricter standards of personal behavior than the general populace in order to avoid even the suggestion of conflict. (Of particular interest for those concerned about the corrosive impact of nepotism is the fact that supervisors of the charity collective could not be related to one another.) In addition, the High Priest could not wear garments with hems or pockets, lest anyone think he was secreting valuables in the course of doing his work. And even Moses found it necessary to render an expense accounting of the Tabernacle’s construction costs, so no one would be inclined to think he was engaged in untoward behavior of any sort.

Several overarching principles inform the behavior that should guide a leader’s actions when it comes to these matters. To begin with, the Talmud refers frequently to one who is nogea b’davar, someone with a vested interest in a particular issue who, by definition, can no longer be objective. While nuanced in its applications, the concept itself is intuitive. Simply stated, if an individual of any station, and certainly a public leader, is encumbered by past dealings, however legitimate, that are likely to color his judgment going forward, he must exempt and absent himself from any related entanglements. This must be done precisely because of an overarching assumption that one who has a conflict may seek to advance his own self-interest at the expense of the truth. This is not a matter of unfairly indicting anyone without sufficient evidence. It is a preventative measure designed to protect both the leader and those she serves.

A related concept is extrapolated from the Torah’s teaching in Numbers that, “You shall be guiltless (v’hiyitem n’keyim) before God and Israel.” Biblical leaders derive their authorization from a combination of divine and popular imprimatur. One without the other is insufficient. It is critical, therefore, that a leader maintains the approbation of both God and the people, by doing, in the words of Deuteronomy, that which is “right and proper” (hayashar vehatov). Jeopardizing either divine or human sanction by withholding information about potential conflicts of interest, endangers a leader’s efficacy. It is for this reason, for example, that the High Priest, as trusted an individual as ever there was, was, nevertheless, searched upon entering and leaving the Temple treasury to assure the people that their leader was beyond reproach.

In addition, later Jewish sources, inspired by the book of Leviticus, insisted that those who withhold, mislead or misrepresent their personal interests or motives are engaging in the functional equivalent of placing a stumbling block in front of the blind. This idea, known as lifnei iver, requires a leader to come clean about the possibility of ulterior motives, financial entanglements, sources of undue influence and related matters. A leader who fails to release information – tax returns, donor lists, or the names of influence-wielding hotel guests – is susceptible to second-guessing, innuendo or insinuation. When that happens, she is wounded and blemished from the get-go. Said leader’s ability to serve his people is unnecessarily and indelibly impeded.

Based on a word play that appears in the Talmud, post-biblical authorities went one step further, and analogized conflicts of interest to the taking of bribes. The Hebrew word for bribe – shochad – is explained as she-hu-chad – “that he is one.” In other words, the one who gives a bribe and the one who accepts it are indistinguishable; they become one and the same. Thus, a business leader or his family who profits from payoffs, kickbacks or other financial inducements cannot be trusted. Her judgment is permanently scarred; his ability to be impartial, forever compromised. So too, a political leader mired in conflicts of interest will never escape the perennial cloud of suspicion hanging over votes and vetoes, initiatives and political maneuverings.

To underscore the import of community leaders maintaining impeccable ethical standards, medieval Jewish legalists took the dramatic step of equating them to judges, who are commanded to maintain the most unblemished standards of all. The sixteenth-century Polish rabbi, Moses Isserles, instructed that, “the good men of the community who are appointed to deal with public and private matters are like judges and it is forbidden to include among them a person who is disqualified to act as a judge because of the wrong he has done.” And since, according to the Code of Jewish Law, “a judge may not deal with any matter in which he has a beneficial interest,” business, political, and communal leaders are under a special obligation to avoid any such potentiality.

Despite a widespread tendency to focus on conflicts of interest involving corporate or political leaders, social sector leaders are equally obligated to hold themselves accountable to a superior ethical standard. The eleemosynary environment, in which leaders are expected to raise large sums of money from an often demanding and self-interested donor base, is fecund with possibilities for potential conflicts. Precisely for this reason, a nonprofit organizational leader, whether volunteer or professional, must embody a commitment to squeaky-clean transparency, avoiding even the most remote appearance of impropriety. This is as true for fundraisers as it is for clergy. So too, educators and programming professionals, who often receive subtle but unmistakable messages to compromise ethical standards for the sake of institutional advancement, are challenged to stand resolute in the face of potential conflicts of interest.

With all this talk of higher standards for leaders, one might be forgiven for believing that Jewish sources apotheosized public officials. But that is not the case. “A community leader (parnas) is not to be appointed,” according to the Talmud, “unless he carries on his back a basket of reptiles [something reprehensible in his background], so that if he becomes arrogant he can be told, ‘Turn around!’” In contrast to the popular tendency to demand perfection from our leaders, this view embraces the notion that leaders are inherently flawed and necessarily imperfect. It is essential, therefore, that they go to extra lengths to acknowledge their liabilities and to prevent those deficiencies from dooming their leadership. The French Talmudist, Menachem Meiri, offered his own insightful exegesis, explaining the relevance of this text to the appointment of communal leaders.

It is proper to appoint as a parnas over the community only a person who is … humble, modest and tolerant… Care should, however, be taken not to appoint a generally over-aggressive person who might think that … he is more worthy than others … Instead, a person should be chosen who is aware that there are other more worthy candidates… That is to say, although a fit person in himself, he may become haughty and full of pride in his dealing with the community … and in that event he can be told: “Turn and judge yourself, look behind you.”

It is important that boards, electorates, and the polity-at-large not construct unrealistic expectations for our leaders. All successful individuals are likely to be encumbered by their own “basket of reptiles.” But we must never lose sight of the fact that character matters in leadership; it is the cornerstone of trustworthiness. Given the fishbowl phenomenon and the natural tendency to scrutinize those in positions of authority, leaders must hold themselves to the highest moral standard. Acknowledging our current conflicts and working assiduously to distance ourselves from them, extricating ourselves from potentially compromising situations as they emerge, and going above and beyond what the letter of the law requires in order to mitigate even the appearance of untoward behavior, lie at the core of what it means to be an effective leader.

[1] The author is pleased to provide interested readers with a detailed list of sources for every citation referenced in this article.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Moses on Transition Planning: Good Not Great

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

[1] The author is pleased to provide interested readers with a detailed list of sources for every citation referenced in this article.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Compensation and the Jewish Question

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Imagine a world in which high performing, high potential university graduates are recruited to work in Jewish communal institutions with the same attractive and compelling packages offered to their classmates going into finance or law or corporate work.

That nagging little voice in my head kept begging me not to do this. “Don’t write it! It’s not worth the aggravation and the attacks that will follow.” I worried that penning this piece might, in fact, do more harm than good. As I contemplated the consequences of challenging the lieu commun regarding nonprofit executive compensation, I even considered pseudepigraphy for a moment, before rejecting it as too pusillanimous for my taste. It is not the personal opprobrium I was concerned about. I worried about the potential fallout publishing these thoughts might have on my institution, its trustees, faculty, and staff.

But in the end, it is for our students – those contemplating a career in the Jewish community, and those well on their way to positions of senior leadership – that I have chosen to set aside these concerns in order to raise questions about the all-too-commonplace bromide in Jewish life that executive salaries are too high. Driven in large measure by the Forward’s annual salary survey, the conventional wisdom now seems to be that too many nonprofit CEOs in the Jewish community are overpaid. The Forward appears to take great pride in outing those individuals whom they believe make too much money, based on a formula that considers only two factors: size of staff and size of budget. Writing in the Jewish Journal, Jared Sichal, describes reliance on such a simplistic approach as “questionable economics” that may, in fact, “not be fair.”

Significantly, the Forward is not alone. The recent statement of “Core Principles of Ethical Behavior,” assented to by more than 350 (mostly) rabbis and academics, proclaims, “The leaders of Jewish institutions and organizations should not receive excessive financial remuneration,” where the word “excessive” remains undefined.

Ironically, the concerns expressed in both the Forward and the “Core Principles” about CEO compensation obfuscate critically important issues in Jewish life that are screaming out for broad-based attention and action, including such things as gender inequity and the abuse of power by those in positions of leadership.

Underneath the accusatory tone and thinly veiled moralisms, lies the insinuation that Jewish communal professionals should by virtue of “serving” the Jewish people earn less than their for-profit analogues. Conflating excellent compensation with ethical infractions is destructive. Too many Jews have embraced what Dan Pallotta in Uncharitable brilliantly suggests is an inheritance from Puritanical and Calvinistic traditions. To wit, those who are compensated with “charitable” dollars must be remunerated at levels far below those found in other sectors.

There is a muckraking quality to these critiques, a kind of giant gotcha, mixed with just the right amount of sanctimony that is not only unseemly, but counter productive. “If you are a volunteer at one of these organizations, a client, a donor, an employer or an employee,” we are admonished, “you deserve this information.” As if boards, compensation committees, or anyone with a computer cannot already access the same data. When discussing those individuals whom they adjudge to be “underpaid,” the Forward sarcastically suggests that, perhaps, the less well compensated could improve their lot by aping the negotiating skills of those at the top of the list. The sardonic tone continues, “Or maybe those who are ‘underpaid’ are paid back by their work in ways beyond measure.”

While others are exceedingly vexed about high-earning CEOs in the Jewish community, I would suggest that such a consuming focus is the functional equivalent of Nero fiddling while Rome burns. We are living at a time of accelerated executive retirements, a dearth of talent, and a dramatic increase of young professionals leaving the field through the revolving door that leads right to the corporate world. If ever there were a case of misplaced priorities, this preoccupation with executive salaries seems the perfect example. [I am aware as I write this that some will dismiss these concerns because I too am a Jewish organizational CEO. So, full disclosure – my salary happens not to be listed in the Forward’s analysis, and if it were it would likely appear among the bottom 15-18 executives.]

To be clear, only a simpleton would suggest that search committees can magically find the most qualified candidate just by raising the compensation level. And any facile suggestion that non-competitive salaries are the only reason so many high-potential individuals are abandoning the Jewish employment market is feckless. But what is true – and I am sure of this because I hear it from my students and younger colleagues regularly – is that attempts to superimpose an expectation of limited earning capacity, couched in gently pietistic terms, turns off more talent than it attracts.

Today, to be the executive of a Jewish nonprofit organization, or even a senior-level professional, requires a variety of skill-sets, personality traits, aptitude, and artistry that are not readily obtainable, and certainly not available to the lowest bidder. Those who care deeply about the future of Jewish life, who recognize that we are confronted by challenges in our day that have never before been seen, should demand the highest quality professionals money can buy.

I understand, of course, that the linkage between salary and performance is not absolute, but in this rapidly changing Jewish world, where superior leadership matters more than ever, why would we suggest, as the signatories to the “Core Principles” have, that “Salary levels should correspond to a minimal portion of the budgets of those institutions?” (Curiously, though, perhaps to be expected, the phrase “minimal portion” is not defined.)

The mythology that social sector work is a zero sum game; that every dollar expended on salaries and benefits is a dollar not being spent on “services,” is fallacious and contrived. If the work that needs to be done requires, among many other things, raising enormous sums of money, and generating substantial revenue to enable the enterprise’s desired impact, how is it that anyone would recommend settling for less accomplished individuals, which is precisely what will happen if we adhere to the “minimal portion” stratagem? In our day, when even the most punctilious oversight bodies in American philanthropy have reexamined their positions on overhead, the rationale for clinging steadfastly to a vestige of the hoary past eludes me.

Nonprofit CEOs do not set their own salaries. This is the job of governance, whether a compensation committee, executive committee, search committee, or board. This is a process that organizational donors and volunteer leaders, those who know the organization best, take quite seriously. They study comps, understand the realities of their institution’s budget, establish metrics for evaluation, and more. I fail to understand how anyone with little knowledge of an enterprise beyond what they read on a Form 990, would feel entitled to determine fair compensation for that organization’s executive. Even the Forward’s advisor from Wharton has acknowledged (the hardly controversial notion) that, “Talent and skill have a sizeable effect on salary.”

Consider the devastating impact these self-righteous messages about salary levels are having on today’s enthusiastic and impassioned communal employees and those contemplating entering the field. The “minimal” salary proponents would have us recruit with the enchantingly pernicious phrase, “Come to work for the Jewish community, where salaries are low, and uninformed scrutiny predominates.” What we should be telling young talent is that as you rise through the organization, as your performance improves and your knowledge grows, you will receive new opportunities, and your salary will increase commensurate with the value you create. And no one, least of all self-appointed guardians of remunerative appropriateness from the outside, will have the power to impose or even insinuate artificial salary strictures. Imagine a world in which high performing, high potential university graduates are recruited to work in Jewish communal institutions with the same attractive and compelling packages offered to their classmates going into finance or law or corporate work.

For years our sanctuaries and boardrooms have resounded with the oft-heard complaint, ”We should run this place more like a business.” While not always what we’ve wanted to hear, and occasionally, just plain wrong, the reality is that increasing numbers of organizations have come to understand that they need executives with expanded repertoires, excellent fundraising skills, and increased sophistication in matters of finance, management and leadership in order to inspire trust among their manifold constituencies and funders. It is disingenuous for so many Jewish organizational critics, often the very first to demand the highest level of business acumen from their professionals, to persist in the belief that salaries should be limited in order to comport with some arbitrary notion of nonprofit propriety. This is hardly “running things like a business.”

As I suggest at the outset, there are a number of significant related issues embedded in the calls for restricted compensation that deserve the attention of thoughtful and capable leaders, women and men who can have an impact, who can build consensus, take risks, and lead change. But we will never make the progress we need to make if, out of some idyllic worldview, we excoriate, however furtively, a system that affirms the linkages between compensation and excellence.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Religious texts and management gurus: A study of Jewish leadership

This article was originally published by Chicago Tribune

by Kate MacArthur

We often think of leadership tenets like collaboration and humility as being created by management gurus like Jim “Good to Great” Collins and the late Peter Drucker. Yet many of those concepts are born or adapted from centuries-old lessons.

In 2012, the Spertus Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership teamed with Northwestern University’s School of Professional Studies to create a Certificate in Jewish Leadership to fill a growing need for leaders of Jewish organizations — but with lessons that are also applicable to non-Jews. The $2,500, four-course program holds classes over four months at both campuses.

Hal M. Lewis, president and CEO of Spertus Institute, explains what Jewish leadership is and what the Bible and Peter Drucker have in common.

Q. What exactly is “Jewish leadership?”

When I use that term, I refer to the millennia worth of sacred sources like the Bible and the Talmud, and classical sources like commentary and legal and biblical interpretations that today are part of the classical Jewish sources.

Those sources say leadership is not about rank or title or your position in the organizational chart. Leadership is about how you behave. From that emerges a whole set of cascading conclusions.

That means leadership is not limited to an exclusive group. It means anybody who can be taught is capable of manifesting leadership. That also means leadership is not unique to men, which was part of the Western teachings of leadership in the ’70s and ’80s.

Q. What are some of the key topics you explore?

A. Many of the classical sources contain insights and teachings, including humility in leadership, power sharing, the use and abuse of power, and succession planning.

It begins with a fundamental willingness to say you cannot solve 21st century problems with 20th century organizations or leadership models. It means that the old approach to command-and-control, top-down style leadership is a thing of the past.

I spend a lot of time talking about the virtues of power sharing versus power hoarding. We are training a group of leaders who understand — to paraphrase the great Peter Drucker — that the leader today is not necessarily the expert, but the convener of experts.

A third example is very important in classical Jewish sources on succession planning. From the moment that Moses in the Bible says to God that, “we need a successor,” and that ends up being Joshua, the emphasis is the role of a leader is to create an organization that outlives them. That brings this commitment to succession planning and leadership training at every level of the organization.

Nothing is a bigger indictment of a leader in Jewish sources and best practices than if that person says, “When I die or move to Florida, the organization is going to crumble.” People actually say that as if it’s a reflection of their positive leadership. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Q. How have you applied power sharing in your own experience as a leader?

A. I had been at Spertus as a faculty member and administrator for more than 13 years. But seven-and-a-half years ago, the board approached me to assume the presidency of Spertus at quite a troubled time.

We had built a new building as the recession was kicking in. People weren’t giving as much in philanthropic giving. We weren’t earning as much in our endowments. And we needed some dramatic and significant changes. There were complicated financial challenges and real estate matters.

I said to the board that I couldn’t do this by myself. It does not hurt my feelings to say that my understanding of complex financial arrangements is limited, but that my board and colleagues at the Jewish Federation have that expertise, and we amassed a team to do that.

There is no way that any single individual, no matter how talented, would know enough, or have context enough, to pull this off. I believe that leadership is like lighting a candle from another candle. It’s being strong when I empower you as an expert.

Q. How did you solve the problems?

A. We let go of 52 percent of our full-time staff and reduced our programming, and we increased our fundraising efforts and expanded our catering and rental.

Those things have brought us to a time in 2016 where we can say we are not facing any existential financial threat, and the building is solid.

Q and A’s are edited for length and clarity.

Kate MacArthur is a freelance writer.

This article was originally published by Chicago Tribune

Long Before the C-Suite

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

American Jewish organizational leaders are no doubt spending much of their time at this week’s General Assembly discussing their seemingly never-ending quest for meaningful responses to the Pew Study. There is, however, another study, recently released, that has barely raised an eyebrow in the so-called organized Jewish community, and that is unfortunate.

I refer to the analysis conducted by Bridgespan, a follow up to their 2006 study, The Nonprofit Sector’s Leadership Deficit. Summarized at length in the current issue of the Stanford Social Innovation Review, the findings describe the deepening crisis of succession planning plaguing our communal enterprises. But the study’s authors go further, identifying a “leadership development deficit” in which nonprofit leaders, “frustrated at the lack of opportunities and mentoring, are not staying around long enough to move up.” This comports with one of their earlier findings that “only 30 percent of C-suite roles in the nonprofit sector were filled by internal promotion … about half the rate of for-profits.“

I can imagine some veteran organizational leaders dismissing these latest findings as much ado about nothing. After all, the Jewish world has been talking about these issues for decades. Further, I suspect that even among the burgeoning start-up crowd this report is easily ignored, owing to their often-small payrolls and limited budgets. In either case, I believe that failing to react to these findings with an intensity that rivals that which followed Pew, is a mistake.

While I would never say we should abandon our quest for meaningful answers to the now 25-month-old “A Portrait of Jewish Americans,” we who care deeply about twenty-first-century Jewish life ignore the latest Bridgespan study at our peril. Indeed, if we have learned anything from our history, it is that there is a direct connection between the caliber of our leaders and our ability to address the challenges we face as a community.

Even in those rare instances in organized Jewish life when light is being shone on the issue of succession planning, it is too-often focused almost exclusively on the executive. What the latest from Bridgespan makes clear is that doing so is a shortsighted and deeply flawed strategy. It is not that we should ignore pipelines and transition planning for CEOs; we should not. But it is becoming abundantly obvious that unless we are prepared to invest in talent growth at every level of the organization, we will fail to ameliorate what the researchers have dubbed the “turnover treadmill” in our institutions.

Leadership training, mentoring, coaching, and professional development must become ubiquitous and sustained elements of the way we do business. They cannot be reserved only for the top tier. Indeed, if we invest energy and money exclusively at the C-Suite level we will not break the pattern of Jewish-organizations-as-revolving-doors.

Many have written previously in these pages and elsewhere about the excuses proffered by lay boards and senior managers for not implementing cross-the-board professional development opportunities in our agencies. These include concerns about money, time, and a general skepticism regarding the overall value proposition associated with investing in our employees. This latest study, a reaffirmation of what many of us have been saying for decades, should remove any doubt as to the long-term cost benefits. A 2014 Harvard Business Review analysis notes that, “the time it takes for an external hire to become productive is twice as long as for someone hired from within.” Additionally, the HBR piece reveals that, “as many as 40 percent of externally hired executives fail within the first 18 months.”

Further, as my own research has found, many nonprofit managers deny development opportunities for entry- and mid-level professionals for fear that once completed they will leave the organization in search of more lucrative opportunities. It turns out that this apprehension is more-often-than-not a red herring. The authors cite the groundbreaking work of the best practice insight and technology company CEB, to wit, “staff members who feel their organizations are supporting their growth stay longer than those who don’t because they trust that their organizations will continue to invest in them over time.”

Perhaps most significant of all, is the fact that when an otherwise promising employee leaves for lack of opportunity, training, or mentoring, the real costs to an organization in everything from productivity to onboarding a replacement, represent enormous and avoidable drains on already limited budgets.

So, while our intellectual, spiritual, and philanthropic elites continue to debate the need for creative responses to the demographic and sociological challenges facing American Jewry, let us not lose sight of the need to develop the women and men who serve our people every day in the agencies and organizations of Jewish life – legacy and start up. Great Jewish communities need great Jewish leaders, and the only way to create the next generation of great Jewish leaders, those who will be prepared to respond to very different realities from the ones that preceded them, is to invest in their training, development and growth, long before they enter the C-Suite.

Op-Ed: Bernie Sanders doesn’t want to talk religion — and thank God for that

This article was originally published by The Jewish Telegraphic Agency

CHICAGO (JTA) – At a campaign event in Virginia last week, Democratic presidential candidate Bernie Sanders invoked his Judaism in response to a question about Islamophobia in the media. The exchange drew widespread attention, in part because Sanders has mostly avoided discussion of how his religion informs his politics.

The contrast between his approach and that of other candidates is striking. But whatever else we might say about the merits of his candidacy, Sanders’ reticence to don the cloak of sanctimony is refreshing.

Americans in general, and American Jews in particular, must come to terms with the blatant hypocrisy that currently informs our political debate, on both sides of the aisle. Simply stated, we need to decide whether cloaking our political positions in religious principle is fair and legitimate discourse. And if it is, we must ask if we are willing to extend those same rights to our political opponents.

For many years, the putatively solid Democratic Jewish coalition voiced vociferous objection each time those on the right invoked religion to oppose seminal policy issues like abortion and same-sex marriage. On those occasions, it was argued that religion is a decidedly private matter that has no place in the public square. Evangelicals were told to stay out of our bedrooms and keep their fundamentalist views to themselves.

Curiously, however, American Jewish progressives seem to have no problem incorporating their own religious language when advocating a decidedly liberal agenda, most notably through amorphous references to tikkun olam and social justice.

This same dynamic, albeit with tables turned, was brought into sharp relief recently when Christian conservatives suddenly decried papal declarations about global warming, Palestinian rights and the needs of the poor. The pope, whose religious leadership had to that point largely been lauded, was suddenly excoriated, told to stick to what he knows and stay out of politics.

No doubt, many American Jews can relate. Among our coreligionists, both liberals and conservatives appear to agree that when it comes to advancing a “Jewish” political agenda, we would prefer that our rabbis and organizational heads speak out when we agree with them, and stand down and know their place when we don’t.

The duplicity is striking. Such shameless cherry picking — in which we randomly select only those religious positions that conform to our political perspectives, discarding the rest as irrelevant or inconvenient — demands our honest evaluation.

If we are willing to hold up a mirror to our communal discourse, we would find that what often passes for religiously inspired politics is nothing more than the sin of Procrustes on a grand scale. American Jews would do well to recall the wisdom of our 16th president, who said: “In great contests each party claims to act in accordance with the will of God. Both may be, and one must be wrong. God cannot be for and against the same thing at the same time … It is quite possible that God’s purpose is something different from the purpose of either party.”

Almost exactly a hundred years later, Bob Dylan would challenge his listeners with a similar message in the song “With God on Our Side.” Both Lincoln and Dylan remind us that picking and choosing when and under what circumstance to admit religious thinking into our politics is a dangerous, albeit enduring, tendency.

Beyond the inherent hypocrisy, American Jews must contemplate an even more important question. When American Jews couch their politics in religious terms, are they doing so based upon a thoughtful analysis of Jewish teachings? Or are they the sort of Jews whom Leonard Fein once noted would be hard-pressed to name the very Jewish values they purport to invoke?

Does a liberal Jew who uses religious principles to buttress his support for a pro-choice agenda do so because he understands Judaism’s complex teachings on abortion? Or is a Jewish conservative, who claims that her religious worldview obligates her to reject regulation and embrace an unbridled free market, truly conversant with Judaism’s intricate teachings about how to treat the poor?

What Jews do, or want to do, is not the same as what Judaism teaches. And categorical claims that Judaism is pro-this or anti-that do not make them so, however consistent those simplistic views might be with our personal political proclivities.

I do not suggest that every attempt to offer a religious context for a political position demands scholarly rigor. But the reality is, Jewish ethics, like Judaism itself, is far from a monolith. Judaism’s positions on most of the vexing social and political issues of our day are nuanced, and often have multiple understandings and interpretations. The Torah has 70 faces, the Midrash teaches. To suggest that Judaism has a singular perspective on issues of political contentiousness does a disservice to the breadth and depth of Judaism.

Broad categories of moral instruction – care for the poor, the value of human life, the sanctity of marriage, concern for the environment – are just that, broad categories. They are not sophisticated policy formulations, and they are fecund with the possibility of divergent, sometimes dueling political agendas.

As Dylan and Lincoln remind us, cloaking ourselves in nebulous religious principles, however lofty, to suit our political ends is disingenuous. Doing so while criticizing our adversaries for the selfsame behavior is self-righteous piety, whether it happens on the right or the left.

This article was originally published by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency

Professional Development: If Not, Why Not?

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Our community has real metrics to prove that when professional development is done right it makes a difference, and it has an impact.

“Every question,” taught Nahman of Bratslav, “is an answer.” And so it is with Seth Cohen’s recent posting, in which he invites feedback on his question, “Are communities investing enough in the training, development and advancement of the professionals that are committed to working in the field?”

As Cohen correctly suggests, this is not such a hard question; the simple answer is no. I say this not to be glib or dismissive. Rather, I believe this to be true based upon my experience as the CEO of an institution of higher learning, dedicated to providing the very training and development his question presupposes.

It is, however, his more important question, ”If not, why not?” that requires the more thoughtful response. While I do not accept Cohen’s implication that Jewish federations are any worse when it comes to professional development than other Jewish groups (indeed, in some cases, they may be better), I am quite certain that the vast majority of Jewish agencies and institutions (including but not limited to the federation system) has much to learn and far to go if they are serious about providing professionals with the kind of training, development and advancement he asks about. (In deference to his request, I will limit my observations to professionals, that is, those who are employees of Jewish organizations, though I believe the issue of lay leadership training and development demands similar attention.)

The midrash in Song of Songs Rabbah offers an interesting perspective on the issue of leadership training and development. “One who would exercise authority over a community in Israel without considering how to do it is sure to fall and take his punishment from the hands of the community.” To the rabbis, it was simply inconceivable that those vested with the sacred task of leading Jewish communities would not place a premium on securing the proper training and development. The stakes are too high and consequences of failure too great to do otherwise.

And yet, failing to provide adequate training for Jewish communal professionals is the default position for many North American Jewish organizations. If we wish to understand why this is, we would do well to consider some of the most commonly cited “explanations” from employees, senior management, and lay leaders as to why professional development is so rarely valued in Jewish life.

Money – (I begin with this first, not because it is the most significant, but because it often serves as a cover for deeper issues.) In times of tight budgets and fiscal constraints, professional development is often the first to go. Convinced that training is a luxury and not essential to the future of the enterprise, organizational leaders, working desperately to slash deficits and balance budgets, find professional development an easy target. And, not surprisingly, individuals are hard-pressed to invest their own limited resources if the ‘company’ does not think it is important enough to do so.
We Don’t Need It/It’s Overkill – Our work isn’t “rocket science.” Pretty much anyone could do this stuff. Our staff already knows everything it needs to do the job. No professional development program will provide anything of value that we aren’t already offering. The school of hard knocks worked for me, it will work for my staff as well.
Time – Staff members, many of whom already feel overworked, underpaid, and under-appreciated, are not willing to take time away from family and personal lives to attend courses or training sessions outside of work.
And Time Again – Management is often unwilling to provide time out of the office for professional development, which too often is perceived as competing with the real work that must get done.
What’s In It For Me? – Professionals are often unconvinced that training and development will accrue to their benefit. Absent the reasonable expectation of more money, greater responsibility, promotions or the like, the value proposition just does not seem to be there.
They Won’t Stay – Why, asks management, should we fund employee development when that only increases the likelihood that participants will leave the agency in pursuit of other positions.
It’s Not That Important to Me – I like my job as is; I have no desire to move up or change. I’m secure here and my bosses like me just the way I am.
Not the Right Program – What our people need is training in specific skillsets. They don’t need some generalist or puff program.
It Won’t Make A Difference Anyway – The truth is most of our people are mediocre at best, because that’s all we can afford. No amount of professional training is going to make B players into superstars.
It’s Not Really My Career – Working in the Jewish community isn’t my long-term goal; this gig is only a temporary stop along the way. I’d rather get training for something that will really help me in the long run.

The sad reality is that we who care deeply about the training and development of communal professionals have failed to make the case for why this issue matters. In many instances, we have not presented a clear vision of what professional development can mean for the individual, for the organization, and for the community generally. Too often we have taken a one-size-fits-all approach, conflating skill set training or organizational onboarding with leadership development. And in some cases we have made professional development an elite endeavor that is more exclusionary than exclusive.

In a Jewish world that has become quite deft at making the case for Israel trips, inter-faith outreach, and early childhood education, there is no excuse for our willingness to let professional training and ongoing development take a back seat. If we are serious about responding to the rapid changes confronting the Jewish world, if we really believe in transforming Jewish life, not just tweaking it, if entrepreneurship is not just a buzzword, then the training and development of those who lead or will lead Jewish life must become a priority – for participants, for their local agencies, and for the wise and visionary philanthropists who have brought us so many other innovations in the Jewish world.

Our community has real metrics to prove that when professional development is done right it makes a difference, and it has an impact. Increased productivity, expanded confidence, enhanced skillsets, the ability to handle new and more complex responsibilities, a shared vocabulary, the creation of a community of practitioners, all of these have been measured and found to be the direct results or the long term consequences of meaningful professional development.

Moreover, there is real and convincing data that links professional development to employee satisfaction and workplace happiness. If for no other reason than the ability to attract and retain first-rate professionals, reduce turnover and modulate costs associated with searches, transitioning, and new staff orientations, lay leaders and senior management should care about the state of professional development within their institutions and beyond. And given the interconnectedness of Jewish organizational life, far more foundations and funders should be willing to consider the link between the impact they wish to have and the quality of the leadership necessary to effectuate those dreams.

In the end, the rabbinic authors of the aforementioned midrash were right. If we really want to reinvent Jewish life we need to get serious about the training and development of our leaders. If not, we will take our “punishment from the hands of the community.”

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Where Eulogy Virtues Are Resume Virtues

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

“We who toil in the vineyards of Jewish life must be every bit as proficient, effective, productive, innovative, tenacious, accomplished, and credentialed as our for-profit counterparts.”

This season of recently completed commencement ceremonies and valedictories featured a seemingly unending spate of references to the writings of NY Times columnist and television pundit, David Brooks. Wherever one turns of late, one encounters Brooks’ popular construct in which he suggests that there are two different types of virtues in life: resume and eulogy. As the names imply, resume virtues are the things we put on our resumes and CVs that describe the skills we bring to the marketplace. Eulogy virtues, are the things that get talked about at our funerals, the deeper attributes about who we are, our relationships and passions, the things we stand for. An irony of the human condition, as those who invoke Brooks’ paradigm point out, is that despite insisting “eulogy” virtues are more important than “resume” virtues, most of us spend our time and energies building up the latter, at the expense of the former. The predictable message to graduates, from those who cite Brooks, is that they should avoid these pitfalls, devoting themselves to the pursuit of loftier attributes instead of being consumed with more quotidian matters.

As the CEO of an institution of higher learning, constantly on the lookout for meaningful commencement messages, I desperately wanted to embrace this ‘resume-eulogy’ paradigm. After all, anything that reminds us that work constitutes just a single piece of who we are and what we treasure is a message I want to endorse. But as a lifelong Jewish communal professional, and as the President of an Institute dedicated to the training and development of Jewish leaders, I am forced to reject such an oversimplified bifurcation.

Those who work in the Jewish community – whether for just a few years or over the course of several decades – have come to understand that separating between “resume” virtues and “eulogy” virtues is a fabrication, a straw man that deliberately ignores the value system that lies at the core of our work.

Mr. Brooks has chosen to overlook something about leadership that the best Jewish communal professionals have known for a long time. Leadership is always about character. When we come to work – whether we work in a venerable Jewish agency or a start up [N.B. Sorry, I just cannot bring myself to use the more popular term “legacy organization,” which inexcusably has become a moniker of derision] – we do not leave our moral compass at home in the bucket market “eulogy virtues.” No, for those dedicated to advancing Jewish life and who do so for a living, our eulogy virtues are our resume virtues. Great leadership is always about character.

Integrity, humility, compassion, a commitment to serving and growing others – these are what make us great in the office, and in our personal lives as well. No bifurcation, no separation between virtues. The great teacher of leadership, Warren Bennis noted, “The process of becoming a leader is much the same as the process of becoming an integrated human being. Life itself,” said Bennis, “is the career.” And to succeed in our careers as Jewish communal leaders, we must embrace and embody the very virtues that Brooks would reserve only for our funerals.

In suggesting that the deeper values of character, ethics, and integrity are the seminal values of the Jewish organizational workplace, I do not suggest that “resume virtues” have no place in our offices and our careers. On the contrary; competence and character are never substitutes for one another. We who toil in the vineyards of Jewish life must be every bit as proficient, effective, productive, innovative, tenacious, accomplished, and credentialed as our for-profit counterparts. It is not enough that we be women and men of great character. There can be no place in our field for morally impressive but otherwise, inadequate and ineffectual leaders.

At the same time, by insisting on a separation between “resume” and “eulogy” virtues, Brooks falls victim to what his fellow journalist, George Will, likes to call the fallacy of the false alternative. It may be true that the American workplace has rejected the very virtues we hope will be recalled at our funerals. But in our business – the business of building a twenty-first century Jewish world – those values are precisely what it takes to succeed at work. We should not be misled into believing that “eulogy” values are ‘soft’ or ‘squishy’ or somehow un-businesslike. The truth is, collaboration, empowerment, power sharing … are not only good values; they are good business. And we, Jewish communal professionals, if we rise to the standard, can become shining examples of what good business, good politics, and good entrepreneurship should be. Relegating things like ethics and mentschlikhkeit to “eulogy” virtues suggests they are not necessary or essential in the marketplace. The stakes are too high in our highly volatile, rapidly changing world to buy-in to such a distortion.

Sometimes It’s About The Way We Tie Our Shoelaces

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

What do last month’s vote of the international USY board to drop its ban on inter-dating, President Obama’s decision not to participate in the events following the horrific murders in Paris, and recent revelations that a prominent Louisiana politician campaigned before a White supremacist group, have in common? While at first blush any connection seems hard to find, I would suggest that upon closer examination, particularly when refracted through the lens of classical Jewish teachings, all three have an important lesson to teach about leadership.

To be clear, I know nothing more about any of these episodes than what I have read in news accounts. I possess no inside knowledge about what drove the vote of the USY board. Nor do I know the “real” motive behind the White House’s decision not to attend the rally and then to apologize for it. And I cannot say with any certainty whether the now Majority Whip knew to whom he was speaking back then.

But what I do know is that all three of these incidents, disparate as they might seem, underscore the often-overlooked reality that optics matter, and that those in positions of leadership are frequently held to a different standard, like it or not.

From a Jewish perspective, to be a leader is to be a dugma – a role model. However unfair, when you are a leader people care about what you do, not only at the ‘office’ but in private as well. A leader’s conduct is subject to increased scrutiny, even when similar actions on the part of non-leaders are likely to go unnoticed. Behavior that once passed into insignificance becomes magnified under what Wasserman and Katz (2011) call “the invisible spotlight.”

Even well intentioned leaders, who commit no egregious faux pas, often fail to appreciate the importance of what it means to be an exemplar. Anne Mulcahy, former CEO of Xerox, reflected candidly on her experiences after becoming an executive:

“Everybody is looking at you. You can destroy someone by showing your emotions, particularly negative ones … If you come into the office looking like you’re having a very bad day, everyone reacts to your mood.

As chief executive, you have to consciously set the right tone … CEOs have to manage those unintended displays, because of how much impact they have on other people.”

Leaders who object to life under the glaring spotlight, who would prefer to be judged by the same rules as everyone else, fail to grasp what it means to lead. The reality is that while leaders and followers come from the same place, they rarely occupy the same space. There is no level playing field; leaders are held to a different standard. And as a result, being aware of the implications of our behavior should be a critical part of the calculus we make every day as leaders.

In discussing the excessively harsh punishment Moses received for hitting the rock in the Dessert of Zin (Numbers 20), resulting in his denied entry to the Promised Land, Maimonides offers the following insights into what it means to be a leader: “God was strict with him [Moses] because … they [the people] all modeled their actions upon his and studied his every word … Everything Moses said and did was scrutinized by them” (Shemoneh Perakim).

Could anything be less fair? A leader, even a great leader, should be allowed some private time, not to have everything she says or does be exposed to public attention. Leaders are regular people too, aren’t they?

Sadly, it is not that simple. To lead is to forever be in the public eye and to be held to account for what others might not. If being like everyone else is your goal, it is time to find alternate work. This is true whether you are an officer in your youth group or an elected representative. It may be unreasonable to hold clergy, or CEOs, or public officials to a different standard; some might even call it hypocritical or two-faced. After all, who could blame youth workers or camp counselors for not thinking about the professional ramifications when they post to their private Facebook page, or communal fundraisers for just wanting to kick back with their friends without having to swim in the fishbowl that is Jewish communal life? Why should executives, who already face enormous pressure, need to think about personal image and messaging off the job? The answer is, because people are watching, and scrutinizing, and judging, and it doesn’t stop in the elevator exiting the C-suite. The sooner we understand that, the more effective we will be as leaders.

A story is told about the great hasidic master, the Maggid of Mezeritch, that underscores the essence of what it means to be a dugma, a paradigm of leadership. “I traveled to see the maggid,” reported one of his followers, “not to hear Torah from him, but to see how he ties and unties his shoelaces.” “Honestly?” we can imagine contemporary leaders protesting. “Give the poor maggid a break! Can’t he even tie his shoes without people watching?” Truth be told, no; they are always watching and sometimes it is about the way we we tie our shoelaces.

We who lead are moral exemplars; role models for those who follow us. It may not be fair, but our affiliations and private behaviors, where we show up, and how we comport ourselves, say as much or more about our leadership as the votes we cast and the official positions we take. To be sure, there are those who would dismiss the campaign address before a hateful group as nothing more than naiveté, just as there are those who would rationalize the President’s failure to go to Paris by citing extenuating circumstances. And there are those who seek to minimize the impact of the change in USY policy by saying that it affects only an extremely small element of the organization’s membership.

Woven throughout the tapestry formed by these three incidents, however, is an unmistakable message that optics matter, because, fairly or not, leaders will always be held to a different standard. That small segment of those affected by the vote of the International USY board is not just any small segment; it is the leadership of the organization. The President’s appearance in Paris would have sent a message that no one else could have sent, precisely because he is the President. And those aspiring for office need to be concerned about who their supporters are because leaders are always role models for others. For those who lead the rules are never the same. That, after all, is the essence of leadership.

Four questions for the new year about the way we do business

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

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If 2014 is any indication we should anticipate that the new year will see these pages (and those of other Jewish publications) filled with editorials proclaiming the virtues of entrepreneurship in Jewish life. In this post-Pew epoch entrepreneurship has become the new continuity. As calls for the latter followed 1990’s National Jewish Population Survey, the former seems the prevailing response to 2013’s A Portrait of Jewish Americans.

Who among us has not caught the bug? In Israel and across North America, Jews are at the forefront of an entrepreneurial groundswell in technology and publishing, medicine and real estate. And as more and more baby boomers exit the Jewish organizational stage, it is natural that younger leaders, reflecting the Zeitgeist of a new generation, will insist that entrepreneurship and innovation inform the way our community does its work.

To be sure, these demands are not without authentic historical roots. Indeed, millennia of Jewish life provide inspiring examples of innovation and an entrepreneurial spirit. Bold Jewish leaders like Abraham, the quintessential iconoclast who saw what others could not, like Moses who was willing to withstand critique and risk everything despite the odds, and like Yochanan ben Zakkai, who embodied a capacity to reinvent and recalibrate in the face of failure and destruction, enabled Judaism to survive over the centuries. From King David to Theodor Herzl, from the rabbinic sages to the feminists of our day, Jewish leaders have understood that, as Peter Drucker, author of the classic Innovation and Entrepreneurship taught, “The enterprise that does not innovate inevitably ages and declines.” Far from being the end of Jewish life, innovation lies at the heart of our people’s vibrant and vital self-renewal.

Because inventiveness is our spiritual inheritance, and because increased calls for innovation and entrepreneurship have become de rigueur, I believe that we who care deeply about the Jewish future must be willing to ask ourselves some difficult questions about our institutions and the way we do business. We must, as Moses Maimonides taught, be willing to “consider the truth, regardless of the source.” And, where appropriate, we must challenge ourselves with the question Martin Linsky of Harvard’s Kennedy School likes to pose, “What is our piece of the mess?” To this end, now that Hanukkah is over, I would like to suggest (as an homage to a Jewish holiday we have yet to celebrate this year) four questions for our collective consideration.

First, is there something endemic in the nature of our community organizations that impedes effective innovation? I refer here to the system of philanthropy that undergirds the lifeblood of our communities. If challenging times demand boldness, risk tolerance, and a willingness to ignore the naysayers, and the world of Jewish institutions requires that we worship at the altar of consensus, ever fearful of offending community standards and donor sensibilities, then have we set ourselves up, however unwittingly, for a Kulturkampf, what Samuel Huntington refers to as a clash of civilizations?

Second, painful as this might be to contemplate, are we failing in Jewish life to attract the right players because of the way we do business? Beyond our often non-competitive salary scales, our misplaced obsession with low overhead, and our general reticence to experiment and tolerate failure, is there something about our style, our governance, our approach to metrics, and our definition of what constitutes real innovation that discourages dreamers and stands in sharp contrast to the entrepreneurial mindset?

Third, does our desire to please the widest number of constituents by endeavoring to be all things to all people, work against us? Sacred to the innovation process is what Peter Drucker famously called, “organized abandonment.” Drucker challenged his clients to ask themselves, “If you weren’t already in this business, would you go into it?” For many of us in the Jewish community it is not easy to walk away from established programs, particularly if some good is being done, and if they happen to be beloved by board members or funders. But our ability to innovate in response to current challenges is directly related to our willingness to be honest with ourselves about the long-term value of our programming.

And finally, are we simply too conservative, and perhaps too cocksure to be able to respond to what our community wants? One hears a great deal about the culture of a not-for-profit entity these days. But the truth is, organizational culture is often the antithesis of change. Past practice becomes an excuse for failing to try new things, and a justification for why the “incumbents” always know best. Too frequently, big dreams come to die, not incubate, in the culture of our community’s organizations.

I raise these four questions not because there is a single right answer to any of them, and certainly not to deprecate or cast aspersions on the work of my beloved Jewish communal sector. But if the past is prologue then the likelihood is great that calls for innovation and entrepreneurship will persist. Funders will continue to seek out entrepreneurial startups, boards will demand innovative solutions to that which ails them, and younger donors will pursue their desire to be part of something new and groundbreaking.

Before any of this can happen, however, we must be willing to consider whether the eleemosynary system as we know it, and the world of Jewish organizations as presently constituted are ready for real entrepreneurship. Are we poised to think like innovators? Are we prepared to act like entrepreneurs? Do we offer a serious and credible option for investors and venture capitalists?

It is not enough that we are the heirs to an entrepreneurial tradition or that there are great Jewish innovators in the corporate arena. Something is very wrong if we are unable to translate those same principles to our synagogues, our community centers, our schools, federations, cultural institutions, and beyond. We who have inherited the world’s greatest insights into effective leadership, and who are the heirs to a more than 5000 year-old legacy of entrepreneurship, we – whether we are employees or philanthropists, board members or professionals – we must be prepared to craft the changes necessary to make entrepreneurship and innovation a reality in the Jewish world that is now ours to lead.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Reflections on Hanukkah at the White House

When the invitation to attend the White House Hanukkah Party arrived in my inbox, I suspected one of my more tech-savvy friends was playing a joke. But the invitation was real and what I had at first believed to be a well-played deception turned out to be one of my life’s truly special moments.

On Wednesday, December 17, 2014, the second night of Hanukkah, my wife Mary and I had the great honor of attending the White House reception hosted by President and Mrs. Obama.

Hal and Mary Lewis

It is difficult to describe the experience, which by almost every measure would have, under other circumstances, grated on my nerves or worse: hundreds of people, many of whom are too self-referential for my taste, long lines in the freezing cold to get through security (no TSA precheck at the White House), too much pushing at the buffet table, and only blended whisky at the bar. And yet, having had the experience, I cannot think of any place I would have preferred to be.

Throughout the evening, I kept thinking of my parents, of blessed memory, who surely would have gotten a lot of mileage out of telling people that their son had been invited to the White House. But beyond that, my father, an interior decorator, would have treasured the pure aesthetic of the historic White House rooms, bedecked in full holiday splendor. And my mom, from whom I inherited a love of logistics, orchestration, and attention to detail (to say nothing of American politics) would have marveled at the organization of the evening. These people know how to throw a party! From the honor guards to the a cappella choirs, from the catering staff to the folks handling the coat check, no evidence of government inefficiency was on view that night.

The ceremony itself moved me in ways I did not expect. Perhaps it was the confluence of events from earlier that day. To be at the White House anytime is a gift. To be at the White House Hanukkah Party with the President, on the very day he announced the release of Alan Gross after five years in Cuban captivity, was an emotional experience beyond words.

What touched me about the ceremony, however, went far beyond the news. The President, accompanied by a radiant First Lady, spoke briefly about the Hanukkah story before introducing Rabbi Angela Buchdahl to light the candles. Rabbi Buchdahl, whose work I have long admired, was accompanied by Dr. Adam Levine, a physician, recently returned from treating Ebola patients in Liberia, as well as Ataklit Tesfaye, a 23-year-old Israeli immigrant from Ethiopia. As the first Asian-American rabbi, Buchdahl alluded to what many of us were thinking. Among the nissim (miracles) to be celebrated this Hanukkah, surely a United States in which an African-American President hosts a strictly kosher reception for Jews from across the ideological spectrum, featuring a candle-lighting ceremony with an Asian-American woman rabbi, a young Israeli from Ethiopia, and a life-saving doctor from Rhode Island, is at the top of anyone’s list. I am not embarrassed to confess I fought back tears as we chanted the brahot (blessings). We were, at least for that brief moment, one enormously diverse, yet wholly (holy?) unified kehilla (community).

Rest assured however, the evening was not only about peak spiritual moments. There was, at least for me, more than a bit of star-gazing as well. Though I missed Gwyneth Paltrow, who was there but apparently didn’t think it was important enough to meet the Spertus President, I had several encounters worth sharing.

Because Mary and I were fortunate to be very close to the podium, I was able to shake hands with the President during his quick foray along the “rope line.” In a comment I rehearsed for days leading up to the event, I told him that we love him in Chicago. (I know it’s not universally true, but I didn’t think it was my place to ruin the festive mood.) He responded by saying that I should “tell all the folks back home I say hi.” When the President tells you to do something, you don’t mess around. So, Chicago, the President says, “Hi.”

Hal with Debbie Wasserman Schultz

I met Florida Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz, Chair of the Democratic National Committee. She was at the White House event and hosted an “after party” at the Library of Congress. We found her to be gracious and extremely personable, and though clearly a politician, she impressed us with her warmth.

Actress Emily Rossum with Hal Lewis at the White House Hanukkah event

Hal with Emmy Rossum

Then, thanks to Mary, I met one of my favorite actresses — Emmy Rossum, Fiona on Shameless and Christine in Phantom of the Opera. For years I have been more than a bit gaga over her. Though I was talking to Emmy at the dessert table, it wasn’t until Mary mouthed F-I-O-N-A that I realized who she was. I’m sure I’m not the first aging Jewish Studies professor to fall apart in her presence. To her credit, she didn’t seem to mind. She was lovely and appeared to be quite amused by my tongue-tied blathering.

Hal with Rabbi Capers Funnye

I also saw several friends of Spertus, including Spertus Alumnus Rabbi Capers Funnye, a cousin of Michelle Obama’s.

As the evening drew to a close, I found myself — the guy who usually can’t wait to leave a party — wishing I could hang out longer. Perhaps it was the headiness of the evening. (Or perhaps it was that this year’s White House Hanukkah Party fell on the eve of our 37th wedding anniversary, and with all the excitement I forgot to pick up a card. Somehow it didn’t seem to bother Mrs. Lewis this year—one more Hanukkah miracle to celebrate. Thank you, Mr. President. Thank you, Mrs. Obama.)

In the days since my evening at the Obamas, I have found myself returning to one thought above all else. (Okay, if I’m being honest, two thoughts. But you don’t really need to hear about how Emmy Rossum is even more gorgeous in person than on television.) The story of Hanukkah, once you get past the rabbinic mythos about long-lasting oil and the like, is at its heart, a story about pride in identity. The real enemies of the Maccabees were not the Greeks, but the Hellenized Jews who sought desperately to blend in, to become like the dominant society around them. They shunned their particularism and the distinctive religious practices, which in many ways served to separate them from others.

This is a story that has repeated itself throughout history, even in America. That night at the White House the room was filled with the children and grandchildren of Jews who came to this country believing the best way to Americanize was to distance themselves from anything “too Jewish.” They changed their names, cried shah shtill, and ceased many traditional practices in order to become part of the larger American melting pot. Today, however, we know a different way. Today in contemporary America, even amidst the Christmas trees and ornamentation of the White House, proud Jews, engaged Jews, committed Jews, Jews who reject the proposition that to be fully American is to reject Jewishness, gather in the “People’s House” every year at the invitation of presidents from both political parties, to celebrate with pride and joy. Today in the United States the Maccabees have won again.

About the Evening Reception

At the evening reception, guests were welcomed by the sounds of the Penn Shabbatones, a Jewish a cappella group from the University of Pennsylvania.

The President and Mrs. Obama joined guests in the Grand Foyer for remarks and the candle lighting.

In his remarks, President Obama introduced the two candlelighters: Dr. Adam Levine, recently returned from helping to fight Ebola in Liberia, and Atakalit Tesfaye, a graduate of the Yemin Orde Jewish youth village near Haifa. Yemin Orde was founded in 1953 to provide a safe haven to Holocaust orphans and children who immigrated to Israel in the 1950s. Today, Yemin Orde is home to over 400 children from around the world, including Ethiopia, Iran, India, Yemen, Eastern Europe, and South America.

The President said, “Yemin Orde is just one village. But the story of Hanukkah teaches us that there’s no such thing as a futile act of courage, or a small act of faith. One doctor can save a life. One school can help a child. That life, that child may change a village. One person can be the spark that changes the world.”

The Menorah

The menorah was made by the children of Yemin Orde. The houses that hold the candles represent the diverse Jewish ancestry of Yemin Orde’s residents. The shamash is made of iron and shaped like a cherub from the Tabernacle. The base of the menorah bears an inscription from Isaiah 60:4: “Lift up your eyes all around, and see; they all gather together….”

All photos courtesy Hal and Mary Lewis and their cell phones.

I Thought You Said You Wanted To Run Things Like A Business

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

After years of working and teaching in the Jewish community I should know better. But, I continue to be struck by the irony that many of the same individuals who claim to want our communal institutions to “run more like businesses,” ignore the very principles and best practices that would enable us to do exactly that. This is particularly apparent in the realm of leadership development and talent management, where crises of CEO succession planning and job dissatisfaction among younger professionals should both challenge and trouble those who have made “be more like a business” their cri de coeur.

Unlike the array of other Jewish crises in our day – from assimilation to declining rates of Jewish philanthropy – the leadership crisis in American Jewish life can be fixed – not overnight, but over time. There are best practices to learn from and models of effective leadership training and talent management to be emulated. While no one would suggest that the corporate arena does it all right all the time, there is solid research and there are shining examples that can help our organizations and our communities both attract and retain first-rate professionals, and prepare for the inevitable transitions in leadership that are part of the quotidian fiber of organizational life.

In contrast to some who have weighed in on these matters, I do not call ab initio for major national initiatives or trans-continental summits as a way of addressing these issues. I choose a more modest approach for reasons made clear in a favorite joke of mine told about the emperor Napoleon:

At the height of his power Napoleon ordered three POWs to be brought to him: a Russian, a Pole, and a Jew. The Emperor said that before their release they could ask anything of him and he would see that their wish was fulfilled. The Russian asked that the czar be deposed. The Pole called for the creation of a free and independent Poland. The Jew asked for some schmaltz herring. Napoleon granted all three requests, leaving the Russian and the Pole enthralled by the prospect of having brought salvation to their nations. When the story of the meeting became known, members of the Jew’s congregation asked him why he had not made better use of the opportunity. Why didn’t he ask for a homeland for the Jews, or for guarantees of security? The Jewish soldier answered: “Do you think Napoleon will really topple the czar or free Poland? I, on the other hand, at least received some good schmaltz herring.”

I refrain from calling for a national response, not because such a thing would be without value – responding to a systemic problem with systemic solutions would, indeed, be helpful – but precisely because others have already issued those calls, and to date precious little has changed as a result. Perhaps that day will come, but while we wait for broad-based responses funded by mega-donors or umbrella groups, there are things we can do today, “one schmaltz herring at a time,” that can enrich the experience of our professionals and transform the organizations they serve.

Put People First

The master teacher of leadership, Peter Drucker framed it best. If the goal is to retain high quality individuals in your organization, “put people first.” Drucker told his business clients what we in the Jewish community would do well to take to heart, “There is no such thing as unquestioning loyalty; an organization has to earn the loyalty of its employees every day.” Lay leaders who want their synagogues or their JCCs to run more like a business should insist that volunteer committees and senior level professionals repeatedly ask Drucker’s three questions at every level of their enterprise: 1) Are people treated with dignity and respect every day? 2) Are they given what they need to make a contribution? and 3) Do they receive the notice they deserve? When an organization can answer each of these in the affirmative it means that employees are valued not as “hired help” but as treasured resources whose long-term futures matter to the agency.

Build Organizations That Value Autonomy, Mastery and Purpose

Daniel Pink, whose research in the field of workplace happiness is recognized widely, notes that job satisfaction derives not from extrinsic motivators – money, power and status – but from three intrinsic factors: Autonomy (the desire to direct our own lives and have some control over our work), Mastery (the belief that we can get better at something through training and the acquisition of new skills), and Purpose (the yearning to serve something larger than ourselves and to know that what we do matters). Those who believe Jewish organizations should function more like a business would be well advised to incorporate Pink’s findings and build enterprises that value these three attributes.

Autonomy, Mastery and Purpose are not theoretical buzzwords; they are substantive concepts that make a difference in the workplace by creating professionals who are more motivated, more productive, and more likely to stay with their organizations. Under such circumstances there is an increased chance that successors will come from within the enterprise, and that transitions, when they do occur, will be less disruptive, less expensive, and more effective than when these conditions are not met. While we await international conclaves and well-intentioned initiatives, we can begin right away to follow four specific steps that will imbue our organizations with a sense of Autonomy, Mastery, and Purpose.

First, reduce micromanagement at every level of the agency. The nonprofit world, in general, and Jewish organizations, in particular, are notorious for excessive amounts of micro-management on both the lay and professional levels. Nothing destroys a sense of autonomy more than a system that elevates control to an art form. Lee Iacocca famously said that the key to great productivity is to “hire good people and get the hell outta the way.” Those who want our communal organizations to run like businesses should take the advice of Robert Sutton, Professor of Management at Stanford Engineering School, “Constantly micromanaging employees after giving them an assignment is like planting seeds in the ground and digging them up every week to see how they’re doing.” The importance of autonomy in the work place cannot be overstated, even if it means allowing people to make mistakes, and occasionally even to fail along the way.

Second, provide employees with opportunities for professional development, continuing education, networking, mentoring, and coaching. Critical to conveying a sense of Mastery is an employee’s ability to get better at her work, to face new challenges, to rise above limits and to grow in leadership and skillsets. There is well-documented evidence affirming that staff members who receive professional development opportunities score much higher on job satisfaction scales. And yet at the first sign of trouble, many of the same boards that want things to run more like a business choose to eliminate professional development funds from annual operating budgets when things get tight.

Third, provide employees with regular feedback regarding their performance. The number of veteran communal professionals who report not having received some form of personnel review in the past year is astounding. Corporate best practices have long recognized that meaningful performance evaluations are essential for job satisfaction and long-term retention. Assessments that fairly discuss strengths and weaknesses, areas for improvement, training opportunities and goals, in a meaningful, dialogic fashion between supervisor and direct report convey a sense that the organization cares about growing its people, not just using them. If we want to run things like a business, we ought to insist that meaningful employee evaluations are a regular part of the institutional culture.

Fourth, convey a sense of transcendence, vision, and mission; craft an organization in which meaning matters. Much like the classic story of the cobbler’s children who go unshod, too many communal organizations fail to convey a sense of transcendence and vision to the very individuals whose job it is to “sell the mission” of the enterprise. We ought not allow our preoccupation with metrics, spreadsheets, and efficiency to prevent us from crafting organizations in which meaning matters. It is simply not true that just because people work for a Jewish organization they automatically have a sense of purpose in their work. It is the job of leadership to help foster that sense on a daily basis. When meaning matters a sense of purpose follows.

Craft Jewish organizations that embrace and reflect Jewish values

Beyond the issues designed to enable Autonomy, Mastery, and Purpose, there are five things that any organization wishing to attract and retain top professionals must consider. For Jewish groups the need to reflect on the alignment between stated values and institutional procedures and practices is especially compelling.

Work-Life Balance – The workaholic nature of Jewish communal life is well known: early mornings, late nights, most Sundays, and even more than a few Saturdays and holidays. The impact this culture has on our employees, their families, and their Jewish lives is not without consequence. In an era in which even Wall Street firms are requiring their employees to take some time for themselves, Jewish organizations desiring to retain valuable employees and plan for their long-term career developments can no longer ignore the issue of work-life balance.

Personnel Policies – Organizational personnel policies must reflect the values we wish to be known for amongst our constituents and in the competitive workplace. While there is research to suggest that family-friendly policies including leave, flex time, and related issues, are not the most important factors in determining workplace happiness, they matter significantly and they say something about who we are and how we treat our people.

Compensation and Benefits – Whether or not compensation is the primary reason people abandon careers in Jewish communal work (research suggests it is not, though a considerable number of editorials and opinion pieces of late would intimate otherwise), there is much to be considered in this regard. Organizations wishing to attract and retain first-rate professionals, and put an end to exploding rates of workplace unhappiness, must review their systems of compensation and benefits for fairness, competitiveness, and gender equity. Job satisfaction depends more on a sense of balance relative to what peers in similar positions are earning than to the actual dollars being paid. Even those organizations with cash-strapped budgets must consider the impact of their policies regarding remuneration and benefits.

Shared Power and Collaboration – The history of Jewish leadership since the Torah reveals our people’s pervasive commitment to shared power and collaboration. An understanding that no leader can do it all, and that a diversity of perspectives and leadership types is required for healthy communities, means that contemporary Jewish groups must demonstrate a willingness to tackle the frequently dysfunctional nature of lay-professional relationships. Professionals and lay leaders need each other to do the work that must be done. But lay-professional relationships are often marked by tensions, poor communication and confused expectations. Quality professionals are leaving the field and will continue to do so if these issues are not brought out into the open and addressed.

Talent Management and Succession Planning – From the time of Moses and Joshua, talent management and succession planning have been sacred principles of effective Jewish organizations. The succession issues currently plaguing the American Jewish community are daunting. In addition to the wisdom of our own tradition, there is much to be learned from high performing corporate enterprises when it comes to training internal candidates for upward mobility. A willingness to develop and sustain a culture of leadership training and mentoring at every level of the organization lies at the core of well-run businesses – whether those businesses are for-profit or not-for-profit.

American Jewry’s leadership crisis – growing disaffection within the ranks of younger and mid-career communal professionals and widespread unpreparedness in dealing with the spate of executive-level retirements – is not something that happened to us as a community. It is, in large measure the aggregate result of our own actions and inactions over the years. While I have often felt that calls for us to “be more like a business” are nothing more than veiled attempts to discredit individuals who have chosen a career path other than “business,” there is, in fact, much to learn from those in other sectors who do leadership training and development right. So to all those who want to bring more business savvy into the organizations on whose boards they serve, I urge you to begin immediately, while we can still make a difference. For, as Maimonides said, one should not be embarrassed to consider the truth regardless of the source.

And to those who would pin their hopes on nation-wide initiatives designed to address the leadership challenges we face in the Jewish community, I hope you will forgive my inclination to draw inspiration instead from the story of Napoleon’s Jew with the schmaltz herring. Pace Leonard Cohen, instead of waiting for the miracle to come, it is time for all those who toil in the vineyards of Jewish life – lay leaders and professionals – to say, as Ecclesiastes instructs, “Whatever is in your power to do, do with all your might.” And as Hillel might add in a friendly rejoinder, “If not now, when?”

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Trusting our leaders

This article was originally published by JUF News

The closer we get to another round in the seemingly never-ending American election cycle, the more we begin to hear stepped up discussions about trust (or the lack of same) in our political leadership. Sadly, distrust in our elected officials is commonplace. But it is not just our politicians. A preponderance of high profile scandals has resulted in a dramatic loss of trust in our corporate heads and even in our religious leaders as well.

From the perspective of classical Jewish value teachings, nothing could be more untenable. The Talmud (Bava Batra 8b) makes it clear that no one can be appointed a communal leader unless he or she is completely trustworthy. Individuals “were not to exercise authority over the community, but that they were to be trusted.”

Where does trust come from? What are the factors that make for a trusting relationship between followers and leaders? What do you look for when it comes to trusting your own leaders – bosses, politicians, team captains, rabbis? Not surprisingly, many of the attributes we cherish in our own interpersonal relationships are the same traits we value in relationships with our leaders – honesty, reliability, constancy, and fairness, among others.

An analysis of Jewish texts on the subject makes it clear that in our tradition trust is the aggregate sum of a delicate combination of both competence and character. Whereas the general leadership literature is fond of distinguishing between leadership skills, those technical competencies a leader requires, and leadership attributes, those personal characteristics often thought to constitute the essence of good leadership, no such bifurcation exists in Judaism. In a formula made popular by Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro (Exodus 18:21), “You shall … seek out from among all the people capable men who fear God…,” effective leadership requires both competence and character. Only when both conditions obtain will followers trust their leaders. “It is not enough, taught Warren Bennis, Distinguished Professor of Business Administration at USC, “for a leader to do things right; he must do the right thing.”

While proficiencies, even those that can be globalized, may vary from position to position – and by the way, it is often a mistake to assume that competency in one area will necessarily translate into another arena – there are certain commonalities associated with character and integrity in leadership that are timeless. They are not unique to a particular leadership paradigm, and are, therefore, worthy of consideration by any who aspire to lead.

Of all of these, Judaism is particularly concerned with the connection between fiscal propriety and effective leadership. Traditional authorities, recognizing the opportunities and temptations often associated with high office, were especially vigilant about avoiding even the appearance of impropriety. Fastidiousness of the highest order was expected of communal leaders, even if their jobs went far beyond accounting and finance. The kohanim – Temple priests – for example, were proscribed from wearing certain bordered cloaks that could be used to illegally sequester coins, not because the priest were thought to be common criminals, but because their ability to lead required them to be above suspicion completely (Mishnah Shekalim 3:2). So too, the king was forbidden from sitting on the High Court (Sanhedrin) lest he be placed in the position of adjudicating certain issues that might benefit his personal finances (Sanhedrin 18b).

The medieval legalist, Moses Maimonides, set the bar particularly high for those involved in communal fundraising.

One should not contribute to a charity fund unless he knows that the one in charge of the collections is trustworthy and intelligent and knows how to manage properly, as in the case of Rabbi Hananiah ben Teradyon [who administered the communal charity funds so scrupulously that once when money of his own chanced to get mixed with the charity funds, he distributed the whole amount among the poor](Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Matanot Ani’im 9-10).

For Maimonides, involvement in the philanthropic sector, either as a professional or volunteer, demands impeccable fiscal ethics. Only when a community trusts its fundraisers, organizational executives, and lay leaders can it be expected to give generously. We can extrapolate from Maimonides’ teaching to the realm of business and politics as well. Investors and the general electorate need to know that those who seek their support – fiscal or otherwise – come not only with the necessary competencies to lead, but with the highest moral standards as well. Character is established not merely by mouthing the right words about financial accountability, but by a level of personal conduct, evinced in the actions of Rabbi Hananiah ben Teradyon that reflects a commitment to the highest level of integrity above all else.

Consider how different things might be if these were standards used to assess our contemporary leaders.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Playing in the big leagues

This article was originally published by JUF News

A recent 60 Minutes segment focused on the Giving Pledge, the commitment made by some of the world’s richest individuals to dedicate the majority of their wealth to philanthropy. In an extensive discussion that touched on issues ranging from strategic initiatives to measuring philanthropic impact, Charlie Rose asked whether this select group of billionaires ever discussed failure in the context of their charitable work. Warren Buffett seemed surprised by the question. With the avuncular candor his fans have come to appreciate, the Berkshire Hathaway chair gently chided his interviewer, “If you bat a thousand you’re playing in the little leagues.”

To state the obvious, effective leadership comes with the expectation of success. The leaders we admire most are those who accomplish their goals and who complete their missions. And yet one of the great ironies of leadership is that a willingness to experiment, to journey far beyond our comfort zones, and even to risk failure, are hallmarks of bold leadership. Buffett, of course, is completely right. If we play it safe all the time, remaining deeply ensconced in the ‘known,’ we can certainly appear to increase our success rates. But as every successful leader knows, there is no comfort in the growth zone, and certainly no growth in the comfort zone.

There are, of course, perfectly understandable reasons why many, particularly among those who lead charitable organizations, are excessively prudent when it comes to risk taking and bold decision-making. Leading institutions in today’s philanthropic environment often forces us to live in fear of alienating our funders. Wary that we will say or do the wrong thing, we opt for an abundance of caution. We prefer safe to courageous. We worship at the altar of consensus precisely because we are risk-averse. We cannot take the chance of trying and failing when donors want the assurance that their investments are guaranteed. Failure in this context is simply not an option. And so, to echo Buffett, we play in the little leagues.

But playing in the little leagues is for kids. In the history of the Jewish people nothing great ever happened without a willingness to step out on a limb, to take a chance and risk failure. ‘Safe’ for Abraham would have meant continuing in the pagan tradition of his father’s household. For the daughters of Zelophehad, not rocking the boat would have allowed prevailing practice to militate against their right of inheritance. For the prophets of Israel, consensus meant capitulating to the polytheistic practices of their day. And for the rabbinic sages, the path of least resistance was to surrender in the face of the Temple’s destruction. Playing in the “majors” involves risk, disruptive leadership, and more than a few mistakes. This was as true for the Maccabees as it is for today’s Women of the Wall.

The midrash (Numbers Rabbah) relates a well known story that when the Jewish people left Egypt they found themselves at the shores of the Red Sea paralyzed by argument as to which tribe would have the honor of crossing into the sea first. With the Egyptians in hot pursuit, only one man, Nahshon ben Aminadav, took it upon himself to risk both the wrath of his coreligionists and death by drowning (the ultimate failure). Undaunted, Nahshon waded into the waters all the way up to his neck. Then, and only then, according to the rabbinic sages, the waters of the sea split open allowing the Israelites to cross over and escape to safety.

The example of Nahshon makes it abundantly clear that bold decision-making – the kind of decision-making that has transformative powers – is incongruous with reticence and a fear of failure. If playing in the little leagues is good enough, then, perhaps, there is no need to worry about failing. But if the big leagues are the goal then taking risks and making mistakes come with the territory.

The Torah underscores the fact that notwithstanding the desire, even the expectation, of success, all leaders fail on occasion. Indeed, missions are often not accomplished. Consider Moses, the quintessential Jewish leader, who, despite myriad accomplishments, did not fulfill his life’s dream of leading the people into the Land of Israel. Who among us, however, would write off his exemplary career or dismiss his transformative leadership on that basis? The willingness to risk failure is a necessary precondition for great leadership.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Just a normal regular person?

This article was originally published by JUF News

At the height of the absurdist antics surrounding Toronto Mayor Rob Ford’s descent into infamy, a reporter inquired as to whether he considered his behavior appropriate for the mayor of a major North American city. Tellingly Ford responded, “I don’t look at myself as the mayor. I look at myself as a normal, regular person.” Reasonable people can certainly disagree as to whether Ford’s activities meet the standard of a “normal regular” person, but something much more significant lies beneath this attempted defense of the mayor’s actions.

To Ford being the leader of his city imposed upon him no particular obligations or behavioral standards. The idea, resonant in Jewish sources, that a leader is a dugma, a role model, was apparently anathema to him. One can certainly understand why. Even relative paragons of ethical virtue often resent the unwelcome scrutiny that accompanies leadership. Being a leader already involves a great deal of stress and responsibility. Superimposing an expectation of moral virtue seems unfair and onerous.

Yet without apology, in Judaism, leadership brings with it an expectation of heightened scrutiny and the expectation of an exemplary ethical standard. However unfairly, communal leaders must understand that their actions are placed under a microscope, precisely because they are leaders. The story is told of Aryeh Leib Sarahs (1730-1791), a hasid (disciple) of the great master, the Maggid of Mezhirech. Said Aryeh Leib famously, “I did not go to the maggid to learn Torah from him, but to watch him tie his boot laces.” In other words, justly or not, followers analyze even the most mundane and seemingly innocuous acts of a leader in order to extrapolate every possible nuance and lesson.

Burdensome as it surely is, to be a leader is to stand naked and vulnerable before one’s followers, a lesson the Toronto mayor never seemed to learn. The fact that leaders are held to a higher ethical standard than Rob Ford’s “normal regular” persons may seem unreasonable, but savvy leaders never forget they are always being observed. “Your employees are talking about you at the dinner table, listening to what you say, measuring how closely your words square with your deeds,” cautioned Craig Wasserman and Doug Katz in their 2011 book, The Invisible Spotlight.

When you are a leader others pay careful attention to even your smallest actions. This lesson was driven home to Anne Mulcahy when she became CEO of Xerox. Reflecting on her experiences in a 2010 interview with the Harvard Business Review, Mulcahy noted, “Everybody is looking at you. You can destroy someone by showing your emotions, particularly negative ones … If you come into the office looking like you’re having a very bad day, everyone reacts to your mood. As chief executive, you have to consciously set the right tone … CEOs have to manage those unintended displays, because of how much impact they have on other people.”

Mulcahy understood what so many great leaders have come to know. Notwithstanding Mayor Ford’s assertion to the contrary, leaders can never be “normal regular” people. By virtue of being leaders they carry additional responsibilities in all that they do. This message is powerfully illuminated in Moses Maimonides’ commentary on one of the Torah’s most controversial episodes. The Book of Numbers (27:12-18) describes God’s harsh decision to deny Moses entry into the Land of Israel. The text explains that this stems from an earlier episode in which Moses lost his temper in frustration and failed to follow divine instructions to the letter. It is difficult to read this account without feeling that Moses was punished unjustly. However mistaken his actions might have been, the severity of his fate seems excessive.

Yet, in his explication of the incident, Maimonides argues that, “God was strict with him … because they [the people] all modeled their actions upon his and studied his every word … Everything Moses said and did was scrutinized by them” (Shemoneh Perakim). Whether one finds Maimonides’ explanation satisfying or not, he understood something essential about effective leadership: no leader can expect to be just a regular person. This is true whether one is the mayor of a major city or the president of a synagogue, a communal professional or a corporate executive. If the expectation of excellence and the attendant scrutiny that accompanies leadership is unwelcome, one should give serious consideration to another endeavor.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Too powerful to feel your pain?

This article was originally published by JUF News

Recent evidence from the field of neuroscience sheds new light on the Torah’s teachings about power and empathy. A story featured on National Public Radio entitled, “When Power Goes To Your Head, It May Shut Out Your Heart,” describes research conducted by experts at Wilfrid Laurier University in Ontario, Canada on the ability of people to be empathic. Though the science is far more complicated than I am able to comprehend fully or evaluate critically, there appears to be evidence to suggest that empathy, that is the ability to put oneself in the place of another, is inversely related to the holding of power. To quote directly from the report, “Power fundamentally changes how the brain operates … feeling powerless boosted” people’s ability to empathize. And conversely “when people felt power, they … have more trouble getting inside another person’s head … power diminishes all varieties of empathy.” (npr.org)

The connection between powerlessness and empathy represents an underlying premise for much of the Torah’s ethical worldview. On four separate occasions, the Torah commands kindness to the stranger and each time the rationale for doing so is linked to the Israelite enslavement in Egypt. Consider but two examples:

You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt (Ex. 23:9).

You must befriend the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt (Deut. 10:19).

It is significant that these injunctions appear in the narrative after the Israelites are freed from slavery; at precisely the time they might begin to exercise power of their own. According to the Torah’s calculus, powerlessness sensitizes us to the plights of others; it heightens our ability to feel compassion. The lack of power (i.e. slavery) is a humbling experience. And with humility comes a greater willingness to feel for those who also lack power (in this case, the stranger).

But as the scientific research has now established, the acquisition of power changes us. Powerful people have a difficult time relating to the needs and experiences of others. Sometimes the disconnection is based on economic factors. As power is frequently linked to affluence, individuals with money are often unable to put themselves in the position of those who struggle to make ends meet. This matter, however, is not limited to economics. Supervisors cannot relate to their direct reports. The famous and accomplished forget the challenges faced by ones just starting out. Individuals accustomed to getting their way find it difficult to understand the needs of others who strive to be taken seriously. The point is not that powerful people are evil, or that they lack a moral compass. But the acquisition and retention of power diminishes our ability to be empathic.

At its worst this means that people with power, as I suggested in a prior posting, are predisposed to abuse the perks that accompany their position. We who lead, therefore, are duty bound to reflect seriously upon ways in which we may be more susceptible to abusing our office than if we held a different post.

Reflection, however, while necessary, is hardly sufficient. The task at hand is to create systemic protections designed to assure that such abuses are mitigated. If empathy is a natural casualty of power, then those in power must be taught to compensate for their own proclivities. According to a social psychologist at UC Berkeley, Dacher Keltner, who studied the findings from Wilfrid Laurier, this can, in fact, be done. An emerging field of research, he says, suggests that, “powerful people who begin to forget their subordinates can be coached back to their compassionate selves.”

The Torah’s approach to this issue is instructive. The book of Deuteronomy imposes a series of restrictions on the king, including the number of wives he may have and the amount of gold and silver he is eligible to amass. This section of the Torah concludes with the following, “When he is seated on his royal throne, he shall have a copy of this teaching (Torah) written for him … Let it remain with him and let him read in it all his life … Thus he will not act haughtily toward his fellows… (Deut. 17:18-20).” The text recognizes that at the apogee of power the king is least likely to be empathic. For this reason, it requires him to self-correct and to engage in behavior (“read in it daily”) designed specifically to facilitate an increased sense of compassion and understanding.

The importance of this new neuroscience research is that it affirms what ethicists have long believed to be true. Now that this link between power and low levels of empathy has been documented, each of us who holds power, whether in the office, in our communal organizations, or elsewhere must work hard to pursue appropriate counterbalances.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Understanding the perks of power

This article was originally published by JUF News

Despite the ebbs and flows of the news cycle, Americans can be reasonably certain that scandals involving the inappropriate behavior of high-profile individuals are here to stay. The reality is that despite their often sexually charged salacious nature, these episodes have less to do with lasciviousness and more do to with abuse of power. Prurient as they appear on the surface, starring as they do an assortment of politicos, corporate executives, sports heroes, and religious officiants, they should not be dismissed as the work of sexually deviant outliers, but need to be understood instead as the result of unchecked leadership, something much closer to home for many of us. Indeed, I would suggest that lubricity aside, defining them solely as shameful sex scandals, misses the point.

Jewish sources have long understood a basic truth; positions of leadership bring with them an increased risk of abusing power. This does not mean that those who aspire to leadership are evil by nature, or that every leader is necessarily an Anthony Weiner, Lynndie England, or Brett Favre, in waiting. But the holding of power – whether as a department head or governor, a soldier or performance icon, a classroom teacher or a clergyperson – increases the likelihood of abusing that power. And clearly, as Lord Acton famously pointed out, the more power, the greater the chances for abuse.

According to the Bible, when the Israelites asked Samuel about establishing a Jewish monarchy, he pulled no punches in detailing the consequences: “This will be the practice of the king … He will take your sons … for his chariots. He will take your daughters as perfumers, cooks, and bakers. He will seize your choice fields, vineyards, and olive groves … He will take a tenth part of your grain and vintage … He will take your male and female slaves … He will take a tenth part of your flocks, and you shall become his slaves …” (I Samuel 8). In a nutshell, leadership brings with it the increased likelihood of mistreating others.

Perhaps the classic case in point is the tale of David and Bathsheba, history’s most arrant example of abuse of power. (If it’s been a while, spend a few minutes rereading the story – II Samuel 11:1-12:7.) As an individual David was a man of considerable accomplishment. He was bold and courageous, and a deeply sensitive human being as well; a poet, who purportedly authored 150 psalms. But, as a leader, David thought nothing of taking advantage of his power. He misused his privileged position to pursue personal ends, convinced that he could manipulate circumstances and control resources and outcomes in order to get away with the most deplorable behavior. Like many leaders, David believed that society’s rules simply did not apply to him.

David, however, was neither amoral nor antisocial. His actions, while despicable, must be understood as a function of his leadership, not of psychopathy or sexual deviance. Indeed, when the prophet Nathan confronted him with a parable about a rich man’s unjust treatment of an impoverished neighbor, David was appropriately appalled. He lacked neither a moral compass nor a conscience. As a leader, however, he was unable to get out of his own way; his proclivity for abuse stemmed from the very power he wielded.

Many will recall a more contemporary example of this link between leadership and abuse of power drawn from the case of President Bill Clinton. In his 2004 interview with Dan Rather on 60 Minutes, Clinton was asked how he might explain his behavior during the infamous Lewinsky scandal. The former President responded with the now infamous words, “… just because I could.” Like scores of powerful leaders before and since, Clinton was not unaware of his transgression, nor did he aver that his behavior was somehow ethically acceptable. Indeed, he characterized his actions as “morally indefensible.” Mr. Clinton’s problem was not about sexuality, but about the abuse of power that accompanies leadership.

Exploitations that manifest in inappropriate sexual activity often grab headlines and titillate the curious. But they are far from the only examples of leadership dysfunction. Anyone who has ever signed a paycheck, written a reference, approved a vacation, diagnosed a patient or counseled a parishioner runs the risk of abusing power. Representatives of the military and the police, professors, youth leaders, parents, even celebrities, anyone who holds power or who is perceived as holding power has an increased likelihood of misusing the very leadership that defines them. As Jeffrey Pfeffer, Professor of Organizational Behavior at Stanford University wrote in the Harvard Business Review (July-August 2010), “Whenever you have control over resources important to others – things like money and information…” you have power. And with power comes the increased likelihood of abuse.

To contravene such proclivities classical Jewish teachings call for systemic controls designed to counterbalance the risks of abuse inherent in leadership. The Torah’s restraints on the monarch, for example, stand out as an unapologetic attempt to circumscribe the power often associated with executive privilege. “He shall not keep many horses or send people back to Egypt to add to his horses … And he shall not have many wives … nor shall he amass silver and gold to excess. When he is seated on his royal throne, he shall have a copy of this Teaching (torah) … Let it remain with him and let him read in it all his life … Thus he will not act haughtily toward his fellows …” (Deut. 17:16-20).

The Torah’s pragmatism in this regard is significant. Rather than impose an unrealistic standard on leadership, an idyllic paradigm of perfection, the text begins with an assumption that the risk of abuse is endemic to the holding of power. The goal then is to contain its nefarious impact not to alter human nature.

The Deuteronomic limitations on leaders assume an enhanced resonance in light of an unprecedented study conducted by former University of Kentucky psychiatry professor Arnold Ludwig. Over a period of eighteen years Ludwig studied more than 1900 twentieth-century political leaders. He uncovered a number of striking links between human rulers and alpha male primates. Common to both is what he calls the “Perks of Power,” tangible benefits that accrue to the ruler (simian and human), simply by virtue of being the leader. These include: increased sexual access (which in humans results in more extramarital affairs and polygamous relationships), more offspring, greater access to resources, and increased deference and respect from followers (Arnold Ludwig, King of the Mountain: The Nature of Political Leadership). Ludwig’s analysis is focused on political leaders but the evidence clearly suggests that similar conditions obtain in the corporate arena, the military, as well as sports and entertainment, among several other sectors.

When the Torah’s strictures are refracted through the lens of Ludwig’s research, the conclusions are striking. Leadership has its privileges and those privileges often include wealth and access. Left unchecked they lead to exploitation, abuse, and misconduct. Precisely because leadership is a condition precedent to abuse, protective measures are required. In proscribing sexual and economic excesses (the very same areas that Ludwig found to be most prone to abuse by leaders), and by insisting that the leader avoid haughtiness, specifically the flaunting of privilege over those (s)he is expected to serve, the Torah both acknowledges that abuse is inherent in the leadership process and affirms that such abuse can be palliated, that is, relieved without ever being fully cured.

Yet, as the case of King David makes clear, even divinely mandated restrictions on leadership often prove ineffective at curbing the abuse that comes with human power. For this reason, Jewish communities have historically organized in ways designed to forestall such excesses. Referred to in the Talmud and subsequent Jewish sources as the system of ketarim (crowns), power is divided across a tripartite framework of religious, educational and political leaders. By circumscribing authority and insisting that no single leadership type (keter) can amass too much power, the “ketaric” system seeks to attenuate abuses associated with leadership and its perquisites.

It would be naïve to suppose that either legislation or systemic stricture can eliminate the risk of abuse. And, as recent high profile examples have made painfully clear, Judaism’s insights into these matters have not prevented Jews from being among the most egregious offenders. But there is much to be learned from classical Jewish teachings on leadership ethics that might contribute, however modestly, to the tikkun (repair) so desperately needed. The most effective place to begin is so obvious it is often overlooked – the training organizational leaders receive throughout their careers.

The highly regarded statistician, Nate Silver is fond of pointing out that when it comes to prognostication, the very awareness of a particular proclivity is an important first step in overcoming associated biases. The same might be said of leaders, from politicos to clergy, from CEOs to first responders. To avoid the untoward excesses frequently found among leaders one must first be sensitized to the fact that exercising power brings with it an increased likelihood of abuse. This is not just true for some, it is true for all. Abuse is not the province of a deviant few. It is a risk that must be recognized by everyone who holds power. No long-term solution is possible absent such an acknowledgment ab initio.

The training and development of leaders is a multi-billion dollar industry today. It includes everything from graduate degree programs to industrially-based leadership institutes, from executive MBA’s to highly exclusive, by invitation only think tanks. Organizations, public and private, large and small, provide training for their leaders. Google estimates more than 397,000 separate entries under the heading of “leadership training” alone. It will hardly be surprising to know that only a fraction of these give serious treatment to leadership ethics in general, and to the issues associated with the use and abuse of power in particular. Sadly this is true not only in the corporate and for-profit arenas, but in the social sector, including the Jewish community, as well. Rarely, if ever do programs purporting to be about leadership training ever discuss the risks of power abuse in leadership. Rarer still are programs of Jewish leadership that help those who hold power to recognize that even when they are unaware of doing so they may be taking advantage of their positions.

Rabbi Tarfon in the mishna of Avot (2:16) cautions that while ours is not to finish the job, we are not free to desist from trying either. While the abuse of power is bigger than any single member of the Jewish community, many of us are in positions to insist that leadership-training programs deal with this issue head on. Doing so would be an important first step.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

—(Portions of this posting were published previously in eJewishPhilanthropy.)

Learning leadership at Wimbledon

This article was originally published by JUF News

Within moments of his 2013 Wimbledon victory, making him the first British man to win that fabled competition in 77 years, Andy Murray gave a media interview that seemed almost as grueling as the match itself. When asked what had changed in the time since his heart-wrenching and emotional defeat on that same court the year before, Murray responded without hesitation. Out of breath and clearly exhausted, the new champion answered by saying that over the past twelve months he had: a) learned from his mistakes, b) worked extremely hard, and c) surrounded himself by a top-notch team.

I suspect that the very last thing on Andy Murray’s mind that July day was teaching the world about effective leadership, but that is exactly what he did. His tripartite prescription: learn from your mistakes, work hard, and surround yourself with a first-rate team is, in fact, a formula for all who strive to be successful leaders.

Learn From Your Mistakes

The best leaders are thoughtful leaders; they understand the benefit of quiet reflection as part of their work. The essential Jewish teaching of teshuva (repentance) suggests that each of us has the capacity for heshbon hanefesh (self-evaluation) and can learn from our errors. Judaism has never insisted that we are imprisoned by our past actions. Rather, our sources suggest that if we acknowledge our mistakes, we can move beyond them. Individuals who are too quick to overlook their failures, insisting that they are anomalous and have nothing of value to teach, or those who seek to blame others for their shortcomings, are incapable of effective leadership. Absent a willingness to deal head on with yesterday’s mistakes, to learn from them, and to improve, one cannot expect a different tomorrow.

Work Hard

The Talmud (Megillah 6b) says it best: “If a man says to you, I have labored and not found, do not believe him. If he says I have not labored but still have found, do not believe him. Only if he says, I have labored and I have found may you believe him.” What Andy Murray knew, and what effective leaders understand, is that there is no substitute for hard work. The privilege that often comes with power can be alluring. But no leader can succeed by sitting back and coasting or by phoning it in. No one is that good to be able to get by on natural talent or past performance alone. Leadership is difficult and painstaking. Defeat and setback come with the territory. No experienced leader hopes for instant results. Patience, tenacity and steadfastness are the necessary ingredients. Success will come but there are no magic bullets or quick fixes.

Surround Yourself with A Great Team

As Ram Charan and Larry Bossidy make clear in their work Execution, great leaders get things done through other people. The very idea of a stand-alone leader, without followers, is an absurdity. In the twenty first century, no single individual, however talented or brilliant, can know enough or do enough to succeed solo. Murray, on what was arguably ‘his’ day, was quick to acknowledge what the best leaders have always known: his success was not his alone. In the wonderful book, Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell argues that even the most accomplished individuals are the products of elaborate nexuses:

“… In order to understand the outlier I think you have to look around them—at their culture and community and family and generation. We’ve been looking at tall trees, and I think we should have been looking at the forest.”

In a Midrash (Tanhuma, Beshalach), God reminds the greatest Jewish leader, Moses, of the same thing. His success as a leader, God tells Moses, can only be explained in the context of his team – the Israelites who left Egypt. ”… In their merit I have elevated you, and because of them you will find … honor before Me.”

It is unlikely that any of us will play tennis like Andy Murray. But we who aspire to lead have much to learn from that 26-year-old Scotsman who in the aftermath of the biggest victory of his life offered a simple yet eloquent paean to the value of learning from our mistakes, working hard, and surrounding ourselves by a great team.

Leading diverse teams: worth the struggle

This article was originally published by JUF News

During a recent Chicago visit that included breakfast with students and alumni at Spertus Institute, newly elected University of Haifa President, Amos Shapira, was asked to reflect on a leadership lesson he learned in business that is pertinent for his new post in academe. Shapira, who formerly served as the Managing Director of El Al Airlines and of Cellcom Israel, Ltd., wasted no time in focusing on the value of building multicultural teams, which, he says, almost always outperform traditional ones. Among other things, this conviction has led Shapira and the university to emphasize coexistence between various sectors and strata of Israeli society.

Shapira is not alone in this assertion. Lori Brewer Collins of Artemis Leadership Group notes that multicultural teams trump their more conventional analogues “in the areas of innovating, understanding diverse markets, meeting customer needs, and aligning multiple organizational interests.”

The idea that teams are more effective when they are diverse has enormous resonance even for those who work in organizations lacking the conventional trappings of “multiculturalism.” Diversity exists in every enterprise and thoughtful leaders will seek to create teams that reflect those differences. Thus, one need not work in a global corporation with colleagues from around the world to reap the benefits of “multicultural” teams. What is needed above all else is a commitment to maximize the diversity that does exist within your organization. Gender balance, generational representation, and an array of skillsets, backgrounds, and perspectives will, if managed properly, enhance the likelihood of better decision-making and a richer, more creative work environment for all.

For much of our history, Jewish communities have embraced this message. The mishnah of Avot, for example, speaks of three crowns (ketarim in Hebrew) – a metaphor for a tripartite approach to communal leadership, in which power is shared among a diverse group of individuals and interests. The three crowns: Torah, Priesthood, and Sovereignty (often understood as metaphors for educational, religious, and political leadership paradigms) reflect differing perspectives that function best when they function in concert. In the aggregate such diversity enriches the depth and creativity of Jewish life. In healthy Jewish communities, from the biblical period to our own day, individuals from each “crown” come together to create a multi-faceted and richly textured Jewish experience.

As those who lead diverse teams will attest, however, the system of ketarim is not without its own challenges. By definition diversity is often difficult to manage. As Brewer Collins notes, such teams “can become expensive, unproductive hotbeds of frustration, low morale, and finger-pointing.” The very things that make diverse teams advantageous also make them high-risk. To be sure, divergent perspectives, differing sensibilities, and varying worldviews often result in the high levels of creativity and resourcefulness required to solve complex problems. But disparate points of view can also mean impassioned argumentation, protracted negotiations, and difficult conversations.

Those who lead diverse teams effectively do not minimize the significance of members’ differing perspectives. Nor would they deny that conflict is inevitable. To maximize the potential for creative solutions and innovative problem solving those differences must be celebrated and then harnessed. Successful leaders do not try to avoid friction rather they seek to manage it. With diversity come varied points of view, multiple approaches and even conflicting agendas. The job of the leader is to explore and exploit those differences while striving to find the best solution under the circumstances.

Too often we impose a binary approach to decision making – we force ourselves to choose between one of two options. We prefer quick decisions with a minimum of debate to a thoughtful exploration of multiple options. The effective leader avoids oversimplification and knows that making decisions too quickly is every bit as problematic as indecisiveness. Challenge yourself to reject facile choices and an “either-or” approach to difficult decision-making. Use the diversity that exists within your team to multiply options before making tough choices.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

The humble leader

This article was originally published by JUF News

In the prior posting I referenced a recent visit to Spertus by the famed prognosticator, Nate Silver. Though it has now been several months since his appearance, I confess that I continue to think about what he said that day. One thing that stands out is his assertion that statisticians could increase the accuracy of their predictions if they were more humble. This called to mind a similar contention by a number of prominent leadership experts that humility enhances one’s ability to be a better leader and to make wiser decisions.

In many ways these seem counter-intuitive claims. While we all have doubts, what we want from our statisticians and our leaders is certainty. We want them to instill confidence; we need them to know what they are talking about. Anything that suggests tentativeness or hesitancy is off-putting and antithetical to the certitude we so desperately require. As Bertrand Russell once observed, “The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt.”

In much of Western culture and tradition, humility is associated with weakness; it is, if you will, perceived to be the embodiment of unleadership. And yet, it is precisely the willingness to acknowledge how little is known for certain that actually enhances one’s ability to make better decisions, whether in the C-Suite or the newsroom, the office or the community. Wise leaders understand the value of what is known as epistemological modesty, the willingness to say, “I am not sure” and “I do not know;” to acknowledge that even when we think we are right, we might be wrong.

In Jewish tradition humility has always been the signature of effective leadership. Moses was known simultaneously as the most humble of all men, and the most successful of all leaders. These are neither unrelated nor coincidental. All subsequent Jewish leaders are urged to emulate his example. Even the king, according to the medieval authority Maimonides, who powers were extensive, had to conduct himself in a fashion that was “marked by a spirit of great humility.”

What is it about humility that makes for better decision-making and wiser predictions? The famed teacher of leadership Peter Drucker reminded his students that the best decisions are made when we “bring our ignorance” to a problem, because most of what we think we know is wrong. Humility allows a leader to listen carefully to others, eliciting the views of people whose input might otherwise be ignored by one so confident as to believe he has all the answers. Arrogant leaders see no reason to ask difficult questions designed to uncover the truth, because they are sure they already know everything.

In their book Execution, business writers Larry Bossidy and Ram Charan offer their own paean to humility:

“The more you can contain your ego, the more realistic you are about your problems. You learn how to listen and admit that you don’t know all the answers. You exhibit the attitude that you can learn from anyone at any time. Your pride doesn’t get in the way of gathering the information you need to achieve the best results. It doesn’t keep you from sharing the credit that needs to be shared. Humility allows you to acknowledge your mistakes … It’s not a question of thinking less of yourself, it’s a question of thinking of yourself less.”

Thoughtful leaders are challenged to balance their own impassioned convictions and the confidence in their own judgments with an appreciation for genuine humility. That humility forces us to temper what we “know” with an acknowledgment that we may just be wrong. It reminds us that certainty left unchecked becomes arrogance. It closes us off to others and makes for poor decisions and bad leadership.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

The importance of self-awareness

This article was originally published by JUF News

Students and colleagues often ask whether there is a sole attribute that defines effective leadership. Most experts would support the finding, encapsulated in a 2007 megastudy published in the Harvard Business Review, that there are no “universal characteristics, traits, skills, or styles,” that constitute the “profile of an ideal leader.” Good leadership assumes a multiplicity of forms, and it would be a mistake to reduce effective leadership to a single characteristic. That having been said, however, there is considerable evidence that without the trait of self-awareness, one cannot hope to lead effectively. As the widely respected Center for Creative Leadership explains, “… strong interpersonal skills, grounded in personal reflection and self-awareness, are the key to effective leadership.”

I was reminded of the importance of self-awareness recently during a presentation at Spertus by the acclaimed statistician, Nate Silver. In discussing why so many predictions fail, the man who famously foretold the results of the 2012 presidential election with astounding accuracy noted the following irony, “The more one acknowledges one’s biases, the less likely one is to make biased decisions.” To illustrate, Silver noted that individuals who admit to a bias in favor of hiring male candidates over similarly qualified female candidates, actually hire more women than those who claim no such bias.

This is a fascinating insight, and although Nate Silver was not talking about leadership per se, it has enormous resonance for those who lead. Simply stated, an important corrective in overcoming a prejudice is the self-awareness required to acknowledge that prejudice in the first place. Leaders honest enough to admit their biases are uniquely qualified to compensate for those weaknesses.

Jewish sources insist that though it is imprudent to deny one’s limitations, including predispositions and biases, the presence of those shortcomings ought not prevent us from leading effectively. According to the Torah, when God summons Moses to lead the Jewish people his reaction is to reject the call because of his own failing, averring “I am not a man of words” (Ex. 4:10). God then assures Moses that not only will He be with him, but his brother Aaron will serve as counselor and spokesperson. Only when Moses is certain that his weaknesses can be compensated for does he feel sufficiently confident to assume leadership of the people.

This is not the only episode in which Moses mistakenly supposes that a leader needs to be perfect, to know it all and to do it all. During the Israelites’ early years wandering the desert, Moses is called to task by his father-in-law, Jethro, for shouldering the entirety of the nation’s leadership responsibilities. “The thing you are doing is not right,” he tells Moses, ” You will surely wear yourself out, and these people as well. For the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone” (Ex.18:17-18). Jethro goes on to instruct Moses to surround himself by capable individuals who can share in the leadership.

A similar idea is reflected in a now popular article published several years ago in the Harvard Business Review titled, “In Praise of the Incomplete Leader” (2.07). In it the authors make the following point, “No leader is perfect. The best ones don’t try to be – they concentrate on honing their strengths and find others who can make up for their limitations.”

Great leaders acknowledge their weaknesses. They take responsibility for their biases, but refuse to be defined by them. Thoughtful leaders learn to compensate for their limitations, sometimes by self-remediation, other times by surrounding themselves with people who bring to the enterprise talents, skillsets and perspectives that they lack.

Nate Silver’s insights challenge all who lead. Ask yourself: What are the biases that I bring to the table? In what ways do they impede my ability to lead effectively? What can I do to compensate for these limitations in ways that will enhance the overall leadership of the organization?

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Revisiting a Joshua-esque Model of Leadership: Response to Rabbi Kenneth Brander

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

In his ELI talk, Rabbi Kenneth Brander argues in favor of what he calls a “Joshua-esque model of leadership,” a view that understands leadership as collaborative, rather than unilateral. While I agree that collaboration, or what I have referred to in my own research as “power sharing not power hoarding,” can be an effective approach to decision-making and problem solving, I take exception to Rabbi Brander’s facile analyses of the leadership styles of Moses and Joshua. Moses, according to Brander, was a “top-down” leader, in contradistinction to Joshua who sought to “empower others to lead with” him.

Cognizant of the well-known barb that in academe arguments are so passionate because the stakes are so small, I must nonetheless assert that if there are lessons to be learned about the value of collaboration from biblical personages then dismissing the example of Moses deprives us of a useful paradigm.

From its incipiency, Moses’ career as a leader was predicated upon a model of collaboration, in which complementary skill sets come together for the betterment of the people. Far from the blinding persona Brander tries to depict, Moses initially resists the call to leadership precisely because he feels ill equipped for the tasks at hand. Only when presented with a model of shared leadership in which his own abilities are augmented by divine assistance and the talents of his brother, Aaron, does Moses even begin to think of assuming responsibility for the nation (Exodus 6:28-30; 7:1-3).

Like many leaders, Moses struggled with the need to prove himself. But when confronted with the insights articulated by his father-in-law Jethro that all leaders are necessarily incomplete, and that no leader, however talented, can do it all (Exodus 18:13-23), Moses wisely reverses course and heeds his father-in-law’s advice (Exodus 18:24). Indeed, when he reaches the point of executing on his own, he goes even further. While Jethro’s instructions call for Moses to hand pick suitable individuals capable of assisting him, the first chapter of Deuteronomy describes that rather than do so himself, he eschews unilateral top down decision-making, and assigns the responsibility for selecting leaders directly to the polity. Thus, contra Brander, he empowers the people, creating a sense of collaboration and investment, rather than imposing his will nolens volens.

Rabbi Brander’s embrace of the “Joshua-esque model of leadership” ignores one of the most significant chapters in the history of his career, namely the episode involving Eldad and Medad (Numbers 11:25-29). When these two would-be leaders defy popular convention, and behave against type, it is Joshua, epitome of collaborative leadership according to Brander, who condemns their behavior and demands that Moses “restrain them.” Fortunately for those who treasure true collaboration in leadership, Moses is not persuaded by Joshua’s paranoia. “Are you wrought up on my account?” asks Moses. “Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets that the Lord put His spirit upon them.” It is Moses, not Joshua, who embodies a commitment to collaboration, recognizing that one size never fits all, that no single leader can succeed alone, and that the success of an enterprise requires a multiplicity of approaches and a diversity of leadership types. Collaboration is not cloning. As the great teacher of leadership Peter Drucker reminded his students, “Carbon copies are weak,” a lesson apparently lost on Joshua in this incident.

From Moses we learn something even more important about collaboration. Not coincidentally, the greatest Jewish leader of all time is, according to the Torah (Numbers 12:3), the most humble of all human beings. Indeed, Moses’ humility is pivotal to his success. Effective leaders know that collaboration begins with a willingness to check egos, to put the good of the enterprise above personal agendas. They acknowledge, as Bossidy and Charan make clear in their book Execution, that the best leaders get things done through other people. Long before Jim Collins lionized Level Five leaders whose humility makes the difference between good and great organizations, and long before Drucker coined the term knowledge workers to suggest that twenty-first century leaders are less likely to be specialists aspiring to know it all and do it all, and more likely to be coordinators of specialists, Moses underscored the critical link between collaboration and ego management.

Humility in a leader allows her to listen carefully to others, to admit his mistakes. A humble leader avoids haughtiness, learns from everyone regardless of place in the organizational chart. An imperious leader is unable to ask the questions necessary to uncover the truth because he is so sure he already has the answers. Arrogance prevents a leader from sharing the credit that is often seminal to the collaborative process.

Rabbi Brander speaks movingly of his wife’s efforts to collaborate with other mothers whose children faced the same fatal disease that tragically took their daughter. Her efforts provide stirring testimony to the lesson first embodied not by Joshua, but by Moses, that none of us is as smart as all of us. Whatever a Joshua-esque model of leadership might be, and with all due respect to the one whom Rashi describes as a pale imitation of his predecessor (Commentary on Numbers 27:20), humility in Jewish tradition is the Mosaic signature, and a model worth emulating for all who seek to embody a collaborative approach to leadership.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Leadership: Better when we’re together

This article was originally published by JUF News

Several months ago, Marissa Mayer, CEO of Yahoo, generated considerable controversy with her decision to terminate the company’s long-standing policy allowing telecommuting or work from home (WFH). Though widely criticized by many as a “step backward for workplace flexibility,” I think there is much here (and in a similar move by Best Buy) that is worthy of consideration.

In explaining the policy shift, Mayer opined that people are “more collaborative and innovative when they’re together.” She is certainly not the first to come to this conclusion. The late tech guru Steve Jobs told his biographer that, “There’s a temptation in our networked age to think that ideas can be developed by email and iChat. That’s crazy. Creativity comes from spontaneous meetings from random discussions. You run into someone, you ask what they’re doing, you say ‘Wow,’ and soon you’re cooking up all sorts of ideas.”

A similar dynamic is known to be true in higher education, as well. Writing about online courses in the NY Times, essayist A J Jacobs noted technology’s limitations when he compared electronic discussions with traditional classroom engagements. Quoting the University of Virginia’s Peter Dewitz, Jacobs argued that online conversations deny “the rapid exchange of ideas that a true discussion would afford.” Speaking of his personal experience with online learning over the past year, Jacobs noted that “none of the interactions seemed as invigorating as late-night dorm-room discussions at my nonvirtual college in the late 1980s.”

[At my own institution, Spertus Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership, we have long favored a blended approach to Jewish learning. The not inconsiderable benefits that technology affords the learner must never supplant the similarly invaluable dynamic that takes place when students and faculty sit together in the same room to plumb the wonders and mysteries of a text face-to-face.]

In Judaism, for leadership to be effective it must be collaborative; power must be shared among and between individuals. Underlying many Jewish sources on leadership is a view that holds no single individual, however talented, can be effective by herself. When Moses seeks to shoulder sole responsibility for the Israelites after leaving Egypt, he is challenged by his father-in-law, Jethro. “You will certainly wear away, both you, and this people who are with you; for this thing is too heavy for you; you are not able to perform it yourself alone” (Ex.18:18). In a dramatic text found in the rabbinic literature, the sages criticize Moses, otherwise known as the most humble of all men, for trying to horde power rather than share it (Ex. Rabbah 2:7).

Leadership is about relationships, not about a single individual. Precisely because no one is capable of doing it all, organizations need to think seriously about how to best create an environment in which collaboration, creativity, and innovation can flourish.

Whether Marissa Mayer made the right decision or implemented it appropriately, I cannot say. But I do know that, in the words of Andres Spokoiny, President and CEO of the Jewish Funders Network, “innovation (and I would add creativity generally) rarely happens in a vacuum. It needs an ecosystem, a breeding ground that is conducive to the generation of ideas.” Such an environment requires more than technology. It demands the very conscious decision to put the right people around the table, and an affirmation of the truth that none of us is as smart as all of us.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Defining success

This article was originally published by JUF News

The business literature has been filled of late with innumerable discussions about success–how to achieve it, how to measure it, what it looks like, and where it comes from. Considerable controversy has emerged on this last point, in particular. Political junkies will remember an incident during the 2012 presidential campaign in which emotions ran high over who should get credit for the success of small business in America. Many took great exception to the suggestion that success is attributable to factors beyond the talents of an individual entrepreneur. Similarly, during a recent 60 Minutes interview Facebook COO, Sheryl Sandberg critiqued women in the workplace for attributing their success to “working hard, luck, and other people,” rather than to their “own core skills.”

Malcolm Gladwell, author of the 2008 book Outliers offered a different perspective on the roots of success when he observed, “We’ve been far too focused on the individual … in order to understand the outlier I think you have to look around them–at their culture and community and family and generation. We’ve been looking at tall trees, and I think we should have been looking at the forest.”

So which is it? When you think about your personal achievements do you attribute your success to your own core skills or to other people, luck, and outside circumstances?

Jewish sources offer a compelling perspective on these matters. Ours is a tradition steeped in principles of gratitude–to God and to others. Observant Jews endeavor to recite meah brahot at least one hundred blessings a day, expressing thanks for everything from the food we eat to our financial security. For Jews, public acknowledgment of our indebtedness is a prominent feature of every day and every festival. Arrogating to ourselves credit which belongs to God is a form of idolatry. But it is not just the Divine we acknowledge. We recognize our indebtedness to our politicos and our physicians, our parents, and our teachers, our students, and our colleagues. Even good fortune and luck are recognized as playing a part in human accomplishment. Crediting our success to others is not a sign of weakness. Acknowledging that our accomplishments are bigger than ourselves is a basic truth in Jewish writings.

The most successful Jewish leader of all times–Moses–is known, not coincidentally, as the most humble of all individuals. The sources tell us that his success depended upon a variety of external factors, both human–his brother Aaron, his father-in-law Jethro, the elders–and Divine. His prodigious achievements were neither compromised nor attenuated by his humility. On the contrary, his ability to give credit to others, to admit his shortcomings, and to collaborate, lie at the heart of his success.

What then is the relationship between personal skills and talents, on the one hand and outside factors, on the other? Jewish sources remind us that even humble leaders, those who readily acknowledge they owe their success to factors beyond themselves, need not deny their own achievements. Indeed, our classical texts caution against false humility, which must not become an excuse for timidity or indecisiveness. Even as they acknowledge their indebtedness to others, leaders must stand up for their beliefs. They cannot allow a false sense of humility to paralyze initiative or to weaken resolve.

This balance between self and others, between personal achievement and indebtedness to those around us, between humility and pride, is key to the management of our success now and in the future.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Leadership and authority

This article was originally published by JUF News

Political junkies will recall that in the midst of the recent sequestration controversy, President Obama took 12 Republican senators to dinner to discuss their differences. Almost without exception, every pundit and reporter, regardless of orientation, went out of his or her way to comment on the striking fact that, as a NY Times headline (March 5, 2013) put it, “Trying to Revive Talks, Obama Goes Around G.O.P. Leaders.” Indeed, the common theme in most of the press was that circumnavigation of the extant leadership was the only way to break the logjam.

Irrespective of politics, I must admit to being struck by a number of questions in this regard. To begin with, isn’t it leadership’s job to make things happen, to get things done? Why would one have to go around leaders in an effort to make the bold decisions necessary to serve the people who elected them? If others are capable of doing the job that the so-called leaders cannot, then who are the real leaders?

This entire episode embodies a dramatic example of how leadership and authority are easily conflated. Calling someone a leader because of their position or title is commonplace; we all do it. In his wonderful book Leadership Without Easy Answers, Ronald Heifetz of Harvard University notes, “In our everyday language, we often equate leadership with authority. We routinely call leaders those who achieve high positions of authority even though, on reflection, we readily acknowledge the frequent lack of leadership they provide…”

When we use the term leader without regard to the abilities, skillsets, behaviors, ethics, or vision of the individual(s) in question, we come to expect that our “leaders” are unable to lead. Thus, when we need to get something difficult accomplished we seek out those who, according to conventional parlance, are not leaders. This is particularly ironic since the willingness to take risks, make difficult and even unpopular decisions, and put those they serve above party or ideology, is the quintessence of leadership.

One’s ability to lead effectively can often be hampered by the very authority thought to lie at the heart of leadership. As Heifetz describes, “… the constraints of authority suggest that there may … be advantages to leading without it.” Thus in analyzing the sequestration dinner, two questions arise: What is it about the “leadership” that prevented them from leading? And, what is it about the 12 dinner guests that enabled them to lead even though they were not considered part of the leadership?

Political scientists have long known that, to paraphrase journalist Farid Zakaria, you’re a revolutionary until you acquire power and then you become a conservative. That is to say, once in a position of responsibility (not the same as leadership!), individuals often find themselves hamstrung and unable to manifest the courage required for effective leadership.

Many people mistakenly conclude that their ability to lead is enhanced by the acquisition of titles or elevated placement on the organizational ladder. While that is sometimes the case, it is not always. Indeed, in many instances the more authority, the less leadership.

As you reflect on your own work at the office, in the community, or elsewhere, consider how your ability to lead effectively is both enhanced and impeded by your rank or position. Let me know what you think.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

What is Jewish leadership?

This article was originally published by JUF News

When people learn that I am the President of an Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership, they often ask, “What is Jewish leadership? Does such a thing really exist?” To me, ‘Jewish leadership’ refers to the principles and tenets found in Jewish sources—classical and contemporary—honed and fine-tuned in Jewish communities over the millennia, which address such things as: the use and abuse of power, authority, effective decision making, collaboration, leadership ethics, succession planning, training, and the like. In my view, those who lead have much to learn from exploring these principles, whether or not they are Jewish, or whether they work in a Jewish organization, a corporate setting, or an entrepreneurial start-up.

Central to Judaism’s understanding of effective leadership is the matter of definition. The Hebrew word for leadership is manhigut. Like many Hebrew words, manhigut derives from a three-letter root, in this case n-h-g, meaning behavior. Simply stated, Jewish sources understand leadership as being about behavior. While it may not seem like much, I would argue that this linguistic insight provides a framework for answering some of the biggest leadership questions of our day:

Where does leadership come from?
What constitutes effective leadership?
Who is eligible to lead?
Are leaders bound to an ethical standard different from the rest of us?
Can leaders be made (trained) or are they born to lead?

A worldview that defines leadership as behavior stands in sharp contrast to one that conflates leadership with rank or title or position. Similarly, linking leadership to behavior offers a different approach than one that equates leadership with wealth, physical attributes, personality traits, or gender.

Here’s an experiment you might want to run at home, at the office and in your community work as well. Consider the degree to which things would be different in your company or communal organization, or in the world-at-large, if leadership were defined as behavior. To that end, complete the following sentence: If leadership is about behavior, then …

When I try this exercise, reflecting on some of the major issues I observe on a regular basis, I note the following:

If leadership is about behavior, then wealth, gender or age would not be defining criteria for those who lead.
If leadership is about behavior, then organizations, including nonprofit groups, would invest heavily in training future leaders.
If leadership is about behavior, then a leader’s ethics would be at least as important as her productivity.
If leadership is about behavior, then risk-taking, change, and bold decision-making, not worship of consensus, fear of criticism, and the obsessive desire to be loved, would define leaders of our generation.
If leadership is about behavior, then service to followers would be more important than blind loyalty to party or ideology.

While it would be a mistake to say that only Jewish sources hold this view, the Hebrew word manhigut articulates an approach to leadership that contrasts sharply with popular understandings of leadership, unfortunately even within the Jewish community. In the weeks ahead consider how leadership is defined in your organization. Do we use leadership to describe a person’s behavior or her place in the organizational chart? What specific behaviors do you associate with effective leadership? What happens when leadership is used to refer to something other than behavior?

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Planning for Success(ion)

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Thoughtful observers of the American Jewish scene cannot help but notice that over the past year considerable attention has been devoted in the Jewish media to the issue of succession planning in organizational life. Occasioned most immediately by the sudden departure of several high profile organizational CEOs, and fueled further by what some see as an increasing tendency to replace long serving executives with individual from outside the communal world, an electronic firestorm has erupted in the Jewish press.

Concern is hardly unwarranted. As far back as 2006 surveys have documented a looming crisis. A CompassPoint analysis in that year found that of 1900 nonprofit leaders, 75% planned to leave their job by 2011 (“Daring to Lead,” CompassPoint 2006). Even more dramatically, a study conducted for the Andrea and Charles Bronfman Philanthropies in 2009 predicted that, “within the next five to ten years, the baby boomers will retire and leave upwards of 75-90% of Jewish community agencies with the challenge of finding new executive leadership” (Austin and Salkowitz, “Executive Development & Succession Planning,” 2009).

The latest research from the Jewish Federations of North America corroborates these trends. JFNA indicates that during just the last 24 months, the rate of change at the CEO level in Jewish federations is approximately 27%, with many additional federations having initiated searches just since the start of the current fiscal year. At the large and large intermediate federations, the rate of change in CEO positions is fifty percent within the past three years.

Beyond the statistics, what is known for certain is that the organized Jewish community from synagogues to federations, from social service agencies to arts organizations is woefully unprepared to deal wit the coming realities. Six years ago, a DRG survey of nonprofit executives found that 58% of respondents indicated that neither the management team nor the board had ever discussed transition strategy (“Nonprofit CEO Survey,” 2006). And the situation has only gotten worse.

In his 2012 study of 440 Jewish organizational CEOs, Dr. Steven Noble identified two overarching themes that unfortunately seem to characterize most Jewish groups (“Effective CEO Transitioning…,” 2012).

The vast majority of Jewish nonprofits (81%) do not have an emergency back up plan designed to address the unforeseen departure of a CEO (such as has been evidenced in recent months).
An even larger percentage (91%) of those responding said that their organizations have no formalized succession plans.

The Jewish community’s failure to respond to these issues is not only bad business; it is antithetical to the best in Jewish wisdom and tradition. Woven throughout classical Jewish teachings and embodied in the example set by the quintessential Jewish leader, Moses, is a recognition of the fact that succession planning is the duty and obligation of all who claim to wear the mantle of leadership.

On the very day that Moses learns he will not live long enough to fulfill his life’s work and lead the Israelites into the Promised Land, he demanded of God that a successor be named. “Let the Lord, Source of the breath of all flesh, appoint someone over the community who shall go out before them and come in before them… so that the Lord’s community may not be like sheep that have no shepherd” (Numbers 27:15-17).

Here, Moses sets the standard for all those involved in Jewish communal life. Disappointed and scared as he surely must have been, Moses remained focused on the ultimate objective, getting the Israelites safely to the Land of Israel. To assure the continuity of the Jewish people, someone else would need to take over, and Moses understood that his job would not be complete unless and until he facilitated that transition. In the end, his own personal quest, however lofty or honorable, paled in comparison to the long term viability of the nation of’ Israel.

As if channeling Moses, leadership experts Jay Conger and David Nadler offer a strikingly similar assessment. “A truly successful legacy,” they counsel outgoing CEOs, “is one in which … successors flourish and company performance continues to be excellent” (“When CEOs Step Up To Fail,” MIT Sloan Management Review, Spring 2004).

Similarly, former Procter and Gamble CEO, A.G. Lafley reminds executives, “It’s not about you, the incumbent CEO. It’s about the institution and its future” (“The Art and Science of Finding the Right CEO,” Harvard Business Review, October 2011). Often times, taught Moses, the boldest act of effective leadership is preparing to pass the torch to the next generation.”

But long before a smooth transfer of power is possible, leaders must acknowledge one of the deep dark secrets of succession planning – the brutal fact, as Jim Collins calls it, that planning for succession is often painful and much easier said than done. The truth is that, for some, succession planning is an admission of mortality. For others, not withstanding the more than occasional headaches, power is alluring and tough to abandon. Leaders derive an enormous amount of tangible and psychic rewards from their work. The perks of power seem to conspire against the creation of a thoughtful approach to transitioning and succession planning. As the midrash states, “It is easy to go up to a dais difficult to come down” (Yalkut Va’etchanan 845). Having savored the limelight, long serving leaders are often reticent to make room for others, convincing themselves of their own irreplaceability. “All my life,” admitted Rabbi Joshua ben Quivsay in the Palestinian Talmud, “I would run away from office. Now that I have entered it, whoever comes to oust me I will come down upon him with this kettle [of boiling water]” (Palestinian Talmud Pesachim 6:1).

Further underscoring this point, the rabbis noted that even Moses had difficulty forsaking the mantle of leadership. In a remarkably insightful text, they suggested that despite his commitment to succession, when he realized he would no longer be in charge, Moses began to have second thoughts. “He can be compared,” said the sages, “to a governor who so long as he retained his office could be sure that whatever orders he gave, the king would confirm … But as soon as he retired and another was appointed in his place, he had in vain to ask the gate keeper to let him enter the palace (Deuteronomy Rabbah 2:5). Painful as it may be to admit, effective succession planning requires a recognition that careers and influence do not last forever.

And it is not just bald-faced ego that makes succession planning a challenge. The pervasiveness of “founders’ syndrome” haunts more than a few Jewish organizations. Long serving individuals, who have devoted incalculable amounts of energy, treasure, and self sacrifice over the years, often cannot face the prospect of handing over the reins. As Steven Noble found in his research on Jewish nonprofit executives, “many seemed to feel entitled to extend their tenures as long as they felt they were contributing.” Large numbers of Jewish organizational CEOs seemed to echo Louis XIV’s infamous pronouncement, “l’etat c’est moi,” manifesting what Noble describes as “a troubling degree of CEO expressed ‘ownership’ of their organizations” and a “high degree of personal possessiveness.”

Precisely because Jewish sources recognize that, in Conger and Nadler’s phrase, “succession is an emotional issue for many … and can lead to a variety of nonproductive behaviors,” the best of Jewish tradition insists that the training and development of the next generation be a preeminent communal priority. Which means that if organizational leaders continue to define succession planning as the singular process of replacing the CEO or even the board chair, they have missed the point. Succession planning is a systemic endeavor. It is an ongoing process that must inform and define the entirety of the enterprise. Key to effective transitioning is a system wide commitment to leadership training and development for both professionals and the laity across the organization.

An analysis conducted by Hewitt Associates called “Top Companies for Leaders,” first published in 2002, uncovered an incontrovertible link between financial success and great leadership training and development. The report notes: “organizations with a ready supply of talent and an ability to cultivate leadership capabilities up and down the ranks are well positioned to withstand turbulence in today’s business world… Said one company executive, “Leadership development is so much a part of our culture that we do not think of it as a discrete activity…” The report went on to find that “Companies such as GE, IBM, or P&G have a long tradition of CEOs and senior leaders spending a disproportionate amount of time on leadership and treating the development of the firm’s highest potential leaders as a personal responsibility” (Gandossy and Verman, “Building Leadership Capability To Drive Change,” Leader and Leader, Winter 2009). This is because, in the words of the great leadership teacher Tom Peters, at their core, “The best leaders don’t create followers, they create more leaders.”

To be sure, Jewish nonprofits characterized by tight budgets, small staffs, and the seemingly ubiquitous tendency that allows the urgent to trump the important, are not Fortune 500 companies. Nonetheless, if the organizational establishment is serious about addressing this crisis, it will begin to rethink its approach to the training and development of lay and professional leaders, without excuses. “Anyone who would exercise authority over a community in Israel,” teaches the Midrash, “without considering how to do so, is sure to fall and take his punishment from the hands of the community” (Song of Songs Rabbah 76:11,1). Or as the great expert on quality control, W. Edwards Deming used to say, “Training … is not mandatory, but neither is survival.”

For too long, and with very few exceptions, the organized Jewish community has made a mockery of leadership training and development, ignoring best practices from industry, the academy, and the best of Jewish tradition. Calling everyone who holds a titled position in the Jewish world a leader – regardless of skillsets or character does not make it so. So too, conflating volunteer orientation and donor education with leadership training only creates false and misleading expectations.

The time has come to abandon the insulting notion that programs of Jewish literacy, however excellent, are in and of themselves, leadership programs. Similarly, American Jewish groups must cease the dysfunctional practice of parachuting people into positions of communal responsibility just because they have been successful in business. Organizations must redefine what they mean by leadership training. It is a mistake to think that half day workshops or weekend retreats or minimum gift missions, “make” leaders. Instead, Jewish groups that are serious abou developing the next generation of leaders must consistently “invest in the best,” providing promising individuals the chance to “practice leadership,” by giving them challenging assignments at every level of the enterprise, beginning early in their tenures.

Leadership development is a protracted, not an episodic process. It cannot be relegated to the nominating committee or ad hoc search committee at the eleventh hour. Only when leadership training becomes an attribute of the system, only when today’s leaders are constantly on the lookout for those who will succeed them, and only when leadership training is declared a priority by the board and the executive, and supported with appropriate resources and systems, will the American Jewish community begin to solve this problem.

Incumbent leaders on both the lay and professional side must come to understand that responsibility for the future is theirs, not after they get finished with everything else, but from day one. North American Jewry has the capacity and the knowledge to fix this. Former GE Chairman Jack Welch said it best, “Before you are a leader, success is all about growing yourself. When you become a leader, success is all about growing others” (Winning 2005).

To be sure, executives bear major responsibility. In the words of a 2008 Annie E. Casey Foundation analysis: “Nonprofit executives must be willing and able to let go and allow their organizations to distribute managerial and leadership responsibilities among a number of staff. These executives,” urges the study, “must relinquish an all too common vision of heroic leadership, in which they valiantly and alone confront almost impossible demands on their time, emotions, and energy. Most importantly, they must be truly willing to share authority”(Building Leaderful Organizations, 2008).

But at the same time donors and board members are also accountable. “Choosing the next CEO,” said P&G’s A.G. Lafley, “is the single most important decision a board of directors will make … All companies should have a plan for handling the normal transfer of power as well as for dealing with emergencies…” At the most basic level, cautions the Casey study “succession planning is a sound risk management practice.”

In May of 2007, a Harvard Business Review analysis concluded that, “high performing companies almost never replace their CEOs with outsiders.” This is further corroborated by studies conducted by the Center for Creative Leadership, which reveal that a “staggering 66 percent of senior managers hired from the outside usually fail within the first 18 months” (Andre Mamprin, “Five Steps for Successful Succession Planning, Center for Association Leadership, December 2002).

In recent years, and often with considerable controversy, North American Jewry has witnessed a number of important communal positions filled by individuals who come not from within the system, but from outside the Jewish nonprofit sector, most particularly the corporate arena. There may be any number of reasons why this is a positive development, if, for example, it is driven by a desire to challenge the system and as Peter Drucker once said, “to bring the outside in.” But if the reason for going beyond the organizational infrastructure of Jewish communal life is rooted in desperation, because institutions and organizations have failed to identify, nurture and train tomorrow’s leaders, then it is time to do teshuvah. And begin immediately to return to the teachings of Jewish tradition and best practices in order to fix what has been broken.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

For Every Complex Problem …

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

To the chorus of voices rising in response to the crisis of CEO transitioning, I would add, respectfully, a few brief observations. All of us who care about this issue would be well advised to take a page from HL Mencken’s sobering quip, “For every complex problem, there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.” The fact that so many Jewish organizations are facing a crisis of leadership is symptomatic of a much larger issue. It is not the prominent departures of the past few months or the pending retirements of a generation of baby boomer executives alone that ought to concern us. It is the fact that, with few exceptions, we have consistently made a mockery of leadership training and development in Jewish life, ignoring best practices from industry, the academy, and our own classical Jewish sources that ought to spur us to action.

Based on my own research and our experiences training communal leaders at Spertus, in our graduate degree programs, our Certificate offerings (including a joint program with Northwestern University), and our continuing professional education courses, I would like to suggest a set of guiding principles to help frame any continued discussion of these matters.

Organizations wishing to avoid crises arising from the retirement of a long-serving CEO should begin thinking about these matters the first day the CEO begins her job.
The key to effective executive transitioning is a systemic commitment to leadership training and development at every level of the enterprise.
It is time to stop conflating volunteer training and donor education with leadership development.
Important as they are, programs of Jewish literacy are not, in and of themselves, leadership training.
Leadership training is a protracted process; it takes years and cannot be effectuated over a weekend or multi-day retreat.
Leadership development must involve more than theoretical classroom presentations; It must also provide hands-on experiences to “practice leadership” over time, as well as regular feedback and observation.
Organizations that are serious about “growing” new leaders will create a culture in which mentoring and coaching are not viewed as signs of weakness, but are supported and embraced from the top with enthusiasm and resources.
Accountability for leadership development and succession planning must be shared jointly by the lay and professional heads of the organization.

If the organized Jewish community is serious about solving the challenges of executive transitioning, we will begin by recognizing that what confronts us is what Heifetz and Linsky call an adaptive problem, one that cannot be fixed by responding to each instance on a case-by-case basis. It will require (as I have suggested previously in these pages) a national initiative that brings the best minds of American Jewry to the table. Succession planning begins with a comprehensive commitment to the identification, nurturing, and training of communal leaders. Only when the development of leaders – lay and professional – is an attribute of the system, will we be able to think in a planful, reflective, and strategic fashion. Writing in the October 2011 Harvard Business Review, former Procter and Gamble CEO, A.G. Lafley, wrote, “Succession planning is not a periodic exercise; it never stops.”

Effective succession planning requires an attitudinal adjustment on the part of both board members and incumbent executives. The midrash insightfully teaches, “It is easy to go up to a dais, tough to come down.” Or, as Rabbi Joshua ben Qivsay notes in the Jerusalem Talmud, “All my life I would run away from office. Now that I have entered it, whoever comes to oust me I will come down upon him with this kettle. Just as a kettle scalds and wounds and blackens, so I will come down upon him.” The reality is that dealing with succession requires a recognition that careers and influence do not last forever.

Again, the insights of P&G’s Lafley, “Many CEOs don’t push their boards to discuss what might happen when they leave, because they don’t want to think about it.” While Moses understood that leadership is about building an enterprise that outlasts any given leader, even a long serving and inspirational one (see for example Numbers 27:16-17), too many Jewish groups behave as if succession planning is the purview of a Nominating or Search Committee convened to resolve a last minute or unanticipated turn of events.

Key to crafting a systemic response to CEO transitions is a willingness to hold all who lead – lay and professional – responsible for the growth and development of those who come after them. Too often in Jewish communal life we permit the urgent to trump the important, allowing senior personnel, amid the fury of seemingly more pressing issues, to relegate developing new leaders to a place of secondary importance. As a result, we extend token lip service to the need to grow leaders, but we reduce our leadership training expenditures at the first sign of constrained budgets. We talk about the need for real training, but in our personal actions we are often reticent to share power and let others step up, fearful of the mistakes they might make, or worse, the need for us to share the limelight. No less a powerful executive than former GE chairman, Jack Welch, who spent nearly a decade training his successor, said, “Before you are a leader success is all about growing yourself. When you become a leader, success is all about growing others.”

One issue that has generated some of the most spirited debate in recent weeks is the matter of “internal versus external” candidates to replace long-serving executives. Reasonable arguments have been proffered on both sides. It is true that, as Peter Drucker taught, the job of the CEO is to “bring the outside in,” and many of our organizations would, indeed, benefit from being challenged and stimulated by new thinking and alternate models. Maimonides instructed that we should “consider the truth, regardless of the source.” And there is certainly much to be learned by studying best practices from outside. It is also true, however, as the Harvard Business Review found in 2007 that, “high performing companies almost never replace their CEOs with outsiders.” If our organizations think of succession planning as a long-term strategy not an emergency measure, we would obviate the need for the crisis mentality that seems to be dominating the communal landscape.

In either case, however, reducing the argument to the issue of internal versus external misses the point. Our community needs to reassess our entire approach to leadership training and development, not only because an entire generation of baby boomer executives is within easy reach of retirement, but because that is what healthy organizations do, all the time. “One who would exercise authority over a community in Israel without considering how to do it,” teaches the midrash “is sure to fall and take his punishment from the hands of the community.” Our ability to create healthy organizations is directly related to our ability to identify, nurture and train the next generation of volunteer and professional leaders, including the next generation of CEOs. The great expert on quality control, W. Edwards Deming, said it succinctly, “Training … is not mandatory, but neither is survival.”

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Workplace Happiness and the Jewish Question

This article was originally published by eJewishPhilanthropy.com

“Utility with all her arithmetic very often miscalculates.”
John Sanderson

For the past several months, The Chronicle of Philanthropy has reported on a growing and troubling trend – the increasing unhappiness among nonprofit organizational employees. In two recent surveys of not-for-profit professionals seventy percent of respondents said that their jobs were either disappointing or only somewhat fulfilling. Fully twenty-five percent of those surveyed said they were considering looking for a job outside the nonprofit world.

The data on Jewish communal professionals are even more discouraging. Talented young Jews, even those with excellent Jewish educations and sensibilities, are opting for careers in the private sector. Those who have served Jewish organizations are burning out prematurely and opting to leave the field altogether. The resulting brain drain means that many of the best and the brightest in the Jewish world are either not looking seriously at entering the field, or are exiting before ever having the chance to make their mark.

To be sure, not-for-profits are experiencing something of a crisis lately. Payrolls have been cut, organizations have been shuttered, foundations are sunsetting, and innovative startup ventures are being starved out of existence. For anyone working in nonprofits, all of this is surely disruptive and unsettling. Communal professionals can hardly be blamed for wanting to protect their families and build a career that provides security and opportunity going forward. But before jumping to the conclusion that simply increasing wages and benefits will ameliorate the rising unhappiness among nonprofit employees, a more thoughtful analysis is required.

In his groundbreaking work Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, Daniel Pink repudiates the notion that high levels of career dissatisfaction result from the so-called profit motive. Pink’s findings suggest that, except in the most extreme of cases, financial rewards do not lead to greater results or greater happiness. Workplace happiness is driven not by extrinsic considerations, but by intrinsic factors, identified by Pink as: autonomy mastery, and purpose. Thus, people are happy when they have some influence and control over their work – autonomy; when they grow and develop as professionals, improving their performance and acquiring new skills – mastery; and when they believe that the work they do matters, that their days are spent in service to something larger than themselves – purpose.

Like Daniel Pink, Harvard University psychologist, Howard Gardner suggests that the issue of workplace unhappiness cannot be explained simply by externalities. He faults a fixation on the three M’s – Money, Market, and Me. “The unvarnished market model – everything can and should be counted, ranked, bought and sold – has brainwashed the culture.” Gardner distinguishes between what he calls, a good job and good work. In his construct, having a good job that pays well, has high status, and comes with many of the trappings of power is no guarantee of happiness. In contrast, good work that is excellent in quality, socially responsible, and meaningful to its practitioners is far more likely to bring with it a sense of joy and fulfillment.

If organizations in the Jewish community are failing to attract and retain some of the best in the business, they should explore what makes for good work and strive to foster a sense of autonomy, mastery and purpose among their professionals, rather than mistakenly focusing only on the extrinsic measurements associated with good jobs. When organizational structures glorify consensus and disincentivize bold decision making, when systems and supervisors expect little and keep the bar low, and when governance stifles growth and penalizes risk taking, a generation of unhappy professionals is sure to follow.

Moreover, not-for-profits committed to growing their professionals and engendering a productive and satisfying work environment must acknowledge the pernicious impact the three M’s have had on their sector as well as the corporate arena. Shameless pursuit of for-profit values as a means of placating donors has not produced happier employees or more effective campaigns. Nor have the wholesale embrace of corporate metrics, the apotheosis of business principles, or the pervasive acceptance of the myth that nonprofits would be far more effective if only they ran things like a business. Trying to become something one is not is hardly the way to find happiness. The great teacher of leadership, Peter Drucker, cautioned nonprofits against trying to emulate the corporate sector. Not- for-profits, taught Drucker, have their own metrics. “The bottom line of every social sector, nonprofit organization,” he said, “is changing lives,” something easily lost in the quest to behave like a business.

Those troubled by the current state of workplace unhappiness in the Jewish community can look to Howard Gardner’s research for an alternate approach. Says Gardner, the three M’s need to be flipped on their sides. Money, Market, and Me, must morph into the three E’s of Excellence, Engagement, and Ethics. In ways that mirror Daniel Pink’s findings about autonomy, mastery, and purpose, Gardner asserts that when individuals bring excellence to their work, when they are fully engaged and passionate, and when the highest standards of ethics inform all that they do, then workplace happiness follows logically.

Not-for-profits wishing to reverse the downward happiness spiral among employees, might take a page as well from the late Steve Jobs, who when asked how he would measure his own success, said nothing about stock options, net worth, or the size of his empire. Said Jobs, “I want to make a ding in the universe. Nonprofit leaders must distinguish between extrinsic and intrinsic motivations, between good jobs and good work. Salaries and status matter, but in and of themselves they will not guarantee happy or productive employees. For this a different kind of not-for-profit must be crafted, one that no longer impersonates the corporate world by confusing happiness with the 3 M’s of money, market and me, and embraces instead a culture of the 3 E’s – excellence, engagement, and ethics. Nonprofits marked by a commitment to providing their professionals the autonomy, mastery, and sense of purpose necessary to achieve real happiness within and beyond the workplace.

This article was originally published on eJewishPhilanthropy.com

Op-Ed: Engaging Jews means more than better marketing

This article was originally published by The Jewish Telegraphic Agency

CHICAGO (JTA) — For four days in January, Jewish leaders under 40 from the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, Australia, Holland, South Africa and Israel assembled in London at the Kolenu conference. Representing large city campaigns in their respective countries, they sought to enlighten and learn from each other as they explored issues of mutual concern.

These young volunteers expressed anxiety over the fact that many of their peers are not “buying” what Jewish community campaigns are “selling.” Attendees acknowledged that in each of their cities, Israel-centric fundraising and support for centralized campaigns have lost traction. To be sure, demographic research has affirmed this for a decade.

These self-proclaimed Israel advocates and builders of Jewish community gathered to rebut the trends by contemplating meaningful solutions and proposing alternative strategies.

Their deliberations were thoughtful and impassioned. As individuals, they remain undaunted. As leaders, however, they may be on their way to making the same mistakes as those who preceded them.

Though the facts are incontrovertible — many young Jews have lost interest in coordinated Israel fundraising drives — the solutions considered were strikingly disconnected from the essential problem. Not unlike discussions at assemblies of veteran Jewish leaders, a prevailing theme at Kolenu suggested that organizations could best encourage young Jews to support Israel by enticing them to attend events where they will hear why they should support Israel.

In this circular construct, the problem and the solution are reduced to improved marketing and public relations. For example, participants agreed that developing more sophisticated social media tools can increase the Gen Y and Gen X donor base, since this demographic is connected to Facebook and Twitter. Similarly, they suggested “cooler” speakers and performers would swell the ranks of supporters.

Unfortunately, even with engaging tweets and trendy presenters, this strategy fails to meet its goals.

Employing “technical” solutions (e.g. improved programming, updated technology, expanded marketing) to fix an “adaptive” challenge rarely succeeds. As H.L. Mencken once cautioned, “For every complex problem, there is a solution that is simple, neat, and wrong.”

While tenacity is admirable, those who love Jewish community would do well to heed the late Peter Drucker, widely regarded as the dean of American management studies, who said, “If at first you don’t succeed, try once more. Then do something else.”

As their parents before them, many at the conference appeared to equate being Jewish with financial support for Israel. Strategies seeking to bring young Jews closer to the Jewish state that do not also consider how to make Judaism, in Abraham Heschel’s words, a matter of “ultimate personal significance,” are flawed approaches to outreach and engagement.

The historical record is clear: Caring about Israel is a natural outgrowth of, not a substitute for, Jewish knowledge and commitment. Making giving a goal in and of itself rarely engenders a meaningful Jewish identity, while the inverse is often the case.

Millennia of Jewish history confirm that allegiance to the Land of Israel comes from strong Diaspora communities made up of individuals who care about Jewish life writ large. Deracinating charitable contributions from a broader Jewish consciousness assumes, mistakenly, that sustained loyalty to Israel is possible without an appreciation of Jewish life, values, history, ethics and culture.

Love of Israel and support for Jewish community are not intuitive for many of today’s young people. For them, being Jewish is one of several identities, often relegated to an episodic role. That doesn’t make them unenlightened or “bad Jews.” It does obligate those who treasure the core principles of Judaism, including support for Eretz Yisrael, to rethink the Jewish communal agenda.

To make the case for involvement in organized Jewish life, including fundraising, Jewish communities must invest in high-quality Jewish learning for post-collegiate young adults. Providing sophisticated and compelling opportunities to explore the Jewish experience will go a long way toward creating a much-needed context for Jewish behaviors, including involvement, tzedakah and support for Israel.

A famous discussion in the Talmud (Kiddusin 40b) debates the relative merits of “study” versus “action.” Though convincing arguments are mounted on both sides, the matter is resolved by Rabbi Akiva, who concludes that “Study is greater than action because it leads to action.”

Peter Drucker was right. We have tried and tried again. Now it is time to try something better.

Contemporary Jews first must begin to understand the Jewish experience, and make enough of that experience their own, before support for Israel makes sense. If a portion of the energy, creativity and resources devoted to enhancing our campaigns for Israel were expended on providing meaningful Jewish learning for adults, our campaigns and our communities would benefit immeasurably.

This article was originally published by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency

A Jewish View On Leadership

This article was originally published by the Jewish Daily Forward

This article was originally published by in Journal of Jewish Communal Service, Vol. 82, No. 3, Summer 2007

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Increasing Affiliation Requires More Than Sabbath Yoga

This article was originally published by The Jewish Daily Forward

A spate of data released within the past year indicates that Jews in their 20s and 30s are not affiliating with American Jewish institutions or otherwise connecting with organized Jewry. This has caused many lay and professional leaders of synagogues, communal organizations and philanthropies to craft a new set of strategies designed to engage these so-called millennials on what the research indicates are their own terms.

Three purported solutions to the problem of affiliation have gained particular popularity of late. First, refashion religious institutions to provide multiple entry points for those whose affinities do not extend to matters purely liturgical. Second, emphasize the universal in Judaism while downplaying the tribal. And finally, invest heavily in Jewish cultural programming at neutral — that is, non-Jewish — venues.

Communal leaders wishing to reach out to unaffiliated 20- and 30-year-olds are now cautioned against employing the language of authenticity. Dubbing something “authentic” is considered too judgmental, and this target audience, according to the research, recoils at the suggestion that there is a right or wrong way to do or be Jewish.

As an outgrowth of this tripartite effort to reach the elusive younger market, synagogues now sponsor yoga classes, ski trips and a smorgasbord of other spiritual options on Saturday mornings; collegiate groups are focusing on social-justice programs because they are more appealing and easier to participate in with non-Jewish friends, and Jewish foundations fund arts and culture programs that insinuate a positive Jewish flavor while making few demands or judgments on audience members.

These approaches to engaging young Jews call to mind the H.L. Mencken quip, “For every complex problem, there is a solution that is simple, neat and wrong.” The idea that by adopting any one or all of these stratagems, young unengaged Jews will be enticed to join Jewish organizations or otherwise formally affiliate with the community is naive and offensive, and ignores both current realities and historic patterns.

On the issue of synagogue affiliation, for example, veteran observers of the American Jewish community have long been aware that membership patterns correlate to age and child-rearing needs. That large numbers of singles or young couples without children are not formally affiliating with congregations is hardly news or unique to the 21st century.

Nonaffiliation has much more to do with lifecycle factors than the absence of a Sabbath-morning tai chi class. There may be merit to embracing the model now being called “synaplex,” in which a diversity of extra-liturgical offerings are featured, but doing so as a way to attract new members ignores the larger context in which contemporary religious institutions operate.

The same must be said of the fascination with Jewish cultural programming. Despite all the hype surrounding hipster Hanukkah blowouts and chi-chi film festivals, there is mounting evidence to suggest that those who participate in these programs are not the unaffiliated Jews targeted by the organizers. Indeed, while many young Jews are attracted to cultural programming — and are quite turned off by the world of synagogues, Jewish community centers, federations and Israel advocacy — those who participate in these events can hardly be considered unaffiliated and unengaged.

On the contrary, the evidence suggests that they are, in fact, people with moderate-to-high levels of Jewish engagement — Jews from backgrounds of personal observance, day-school training, Jewish camping, synagogue youth groups, Jewish campus activity or an Israel experience. There are legitimate reasons for investing in Jewish culture, but an enterprise that does so because it will result in the development of a sustained new audience of young, unaffiliated Jews is destined to be greatly disappointed.

Jewish groups wishing to engage young Jews must begin by understanding that painting all 20- and 30-year-olds with the same brush is hardly effective. There are important differences between committed young Jews who have serious issues with the state of institutional Jewish life and those of their peers who are so thoroughly dissociated from all things Jewish that they couldn’t care less.

To confuse dissatisfaction with disinterest, or to conflate a desire for creativity and experimentation with a preference for “Jewish-lite,” is to miss this point. Outreach efforts that fail to embrace these distinctions will fall short of desired expectation.

Further, no outreach strategy will succeed if it ignores the perspicacity that has become this generation’s signature. Twenty-first-century Jews are far more sophisticated and nuanced than is suggested by those who think engagement can be secured by programmatic modifications alone. Thoughtful young Jews are quite capable of distinguishing between Jewish groups that proudly perform acts of kindness and righteousness as a sacred Jewish imperative, and those desperate to cultivate new markets that capitalize on the zeitgeist by universalizing classical Jewish precepts.

Conceptualizing Jewish culture as a means to an end not only misjudges the audience, it also does a gross disservice to the artists and performers. The depiction of Jewish music, art, literature, dance or film as more acceptable to an unengaged population because such expressions pose few demands and lack rigor offends boundlessly.

As is true of ethics, deracinating culture from other aspects of Judaism reduces a magnificent and richly textured tradition to a monochrome. Jewish cultural programming deserves the attention and support of the American Jewish establishment — not because it will secure additional members or expand the ranks of potential donors, but because culture, along with learning, worship, morality and love of Israel, is an authentic component of the total Jewish experience.

No purpose is served by dumbing-down Jewish options. Severing acts of loving kindness, theological exploration or cultural expressions from the broader historical context in which they exist simply as a marketing ploy is irresponsible and destined to fail.

The onslaught of recent survey research lays bare many of the realities and challenges of contemporary Jewish life. Those charged with planning and designing policies for the American Jewish community must resist the tendency to craft simple solutions to complex problems, merely as a reaction to the latest findings. Creative marketing, however nobly conceived, cannot be allowed to trump authenticity and integrity.

This article was originally published by the Jewish Daily Forward

Succession Planning

This article was originally published by in Sh’ma, February, 2007

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The Bible is on Joe’s Side

This article was originally published by the Jewish Daily Forward

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The Jewish Studies Professor as Communal Leader

This article was originally published in Shofar

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Leadership: The Jewish Take

This article was originally published by JUF News

American Jews preparing to enter the voting booths were bombarded by an array of (often conflicting) opinions as to which candidate was better on so – called “Jewish issues.” Partisans on all sides were quick to assert that their candidate’s views on everything from Israel to church – state relations, from anti- Semitism to education, were in the “best interest” of the Jews.

More than any particular policy stance, however, our tradition suggests the ultimate “Jewish issue” is a candidate’s ability to lead . Classical Jewish teachings offer valuable insight into how to measure the efficacy of leadership, what we should seek in our leaders, and the optimal relationship between leaders and followers. Jewish voters, therefore, would do well to consider these precepts as they engage in the electoral process.

Not surprisingly, Judaism’s wisdom on effective leadership is diverse and complex. Though impossible to encapsulate it all, it is possible to extrapolate several overarching principles that can serve as guideposts in helping to evaluate those who wish to be our leaders.

On the use and abuse of power

For reasons both theological and historical, Judaism always maintained a certain distrust of human leaders. Jewish sources recognize there is a direct relationship between high office and the likelihood of abusing the power accompanying that post. As a result, power was circumscribed. Strict limits were placed upon those who held positions of authority, from kings and judges to rabbis and philanthropists.

While human societies have benefited greatly from what Sa’adia Gaon of the 10 th century called the “aspiration toward leadership” (“On Dominion,” The Book of Beliefs and Opinions ), Judaism insists that power remains a dangerous allure. To lead effectively, one must avoid being ensnared in the infatuating trap of leadership. The ability to overcome the intoxication of prominence, triumph over the tendency toward grandiosity, and embrace the virtue of limited powers—these are the hallmarks of effective leadership.

Power-sharing/power-hoarding

One of the ways in which Judaism seeks to protect against leadership abuses is to insist that power be shared and not hoarded. Throughout history, Jewish communities have been governed by a tripartite system in which religious, scholarly, and political leaders share responsibility for the welfare of the people. Singular individuals claiming to have all the answers, who insist on aggregating power, are viewed with suspicion and disdain. Far from glorifying the model of a charismatic leader who solves problems unilaterally, Jewish sources prefer leaders who are willing to share responsibility and empower others.

Serving/ruling

In asserting qualifications for office, it is popular for would- be leaders to emphasize their strength and toughness, above all else. Attention is focused repeatedly on heroism, militarism, and boldness. Much of what passes for leadership throughout the world is a form of machismo, the leader – as – alpha – male, dominant and overbearing. Instead of embracing this top – down, command – and – control style, classical Jewish sources insist that successful leaders function not as rulers, but as servants. “One who is appointed over a community becomes the servant of the community,” insists the Talmud ( Horayot 10 a). In this view, leadership is not about superimposing personal will, or coercing others to “follow the leader.” Neither is it about amassing power in the name of ego or cause. Rather, leaders must see themselves as serving the needs of their followers by enhancing their capacity, by motivating and empowering them, and by developing leadership in others.

This is why since the time of Moses and Joshua, Judaism has insisted that truly effective leadership must include the identification, preparation and training of the next generation. To be sure, it is difficult for those ensconced in power to think beyond themselves. The rabbis understand this basic principle. “It is easy to go up to a dais,” they taught, “tough to come down” ( Yalkut , Va’ethannan , 845). Nevertheless, only those who transcend their own agendas in order to serve the long – term needs of the people meet Judaism’s test of effective leadership.

Humility

While conventional wisdom associates leadership with self – assurance, single – minded determination, bravado, and certainty, Jewish sources offer a dramatically different view, one which identifies humility as the essential attribute of effective leaders. Humility, the recognition of one’s limitations regardless of position, is a natural consequence of Judaism’s worldview that only God has absolute authority, and that human leaders, however powerful, can never be above the law.

Jewish sources insist that the arrogance and inflated sense of self, often found in people with power, are, in fact, antithetical to effective leadership. While acknowledging the unparalleled majesty of the king, for example, Moses Maimonides insisted that only when the sovereign is able to “cultivate a humble and lowly spirit … and deal graciously and compassionately with the small and the great” would his leadership be successful ( Mishneh Torah , Law of Kings). Despite the popular notion, therefore, humility is not a sign of weak leadership . Indeed, the Torah and later Jewish sources insist that the most effective of all leaders— Moses—was, at the same time, the most humble. Rather than precluding vision, tenacity and decisiveness, humility is essential for their realization. In Judaism, exaggerated claims and self – aggrandizing speech are anathema to good leadership.

Behavior, not position

The Hebrew word for leadership is manhigut . It derives from the root found in the word “behavior.” For Judaism, effective leadership is not about position; it is about behavior and action. The rabbis were clear: one can lead effectively without holding a title or an office, so long as one behaves appropriately. “Be rather a tail to lions than a head to foxes,” they insisted ( Avot 4:20). In evaluating those who would be our leaders then, Judaism suggests that we would do well to consider their behaviors, not their resumes or their press statements. Do they, for example:

Think of themselves as humble servants of the people, or are they egocentric rulers seeking to maximize the perquisites of power ?
Demonstrate an understanding that power must be restrained and shared , lest it be abused, even by good people ?
Have the proven ability to see beyond their own agenda , and their own time ?
Empower others and identify future leaders with a similar commitment to serving ?

As we contemplate our choices in this and subsequent elections—indeed, as we consider the leadership of our communal institutions, congregations, and businesses—Judaism challenges us to answer these questions, and to keep in mind that how a person leads is at least as much a “Jewish issue” as the policies he or she espouses.

—This piece originally posted in JUF News

Making Leaders: How the American Jewish Community Prepares Its Lay Leaders

This article was originally published in the Journal of Jewish Communal Service Summer/Fall 2004

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A little less charisma, please

The high-profile crises currently plaguing governments, businesses, and religious groups across the globe have resulted in renewed calls for a return to strong leadership. In the face of crises, people look to leaders to solve their problems and mitigate their misfortune. Not just any leaders, but charismatic leaders, those strong personalities believed to have extraordinary capabilities. In return for such leaders, followers are willing to extend total fealty and absolute trust, confident that the leader will solve their problems.

This desire to find the singular leader who knows how to resolve crises and set things right manifests itself in a variety of settings. Voters of every political stripe seek charismatic candidates and bemoan their fates when none can be found. Investors yearn for CEOs with personal charisma, believing that only they can reverse the company’s faltering fortunes. Religious adherents crave the guidance and direction of a charismatic who will lead them down the path to salvation.

Despite the widespread popularity of this assertion, those who believe that things will get better only with charismatic leaders fail to understand the dangers inherent in such a vision. In this regard, classical Jewish sources have a great deal to teach about models of effective leadership.

It is not that Jews have been immune to charismatic leaders. We, too, have had our share of mystics, messiahs, and autocrats.

But there are at least four reasons why, according to Jewish teachings, charismatic leadership should be shunned.

To begin with, Judaism has always maintained that only God has absolute authority. Any attempt to centralize and aggregate power in a single human being was viewed as a usurpation of the Divine. Jewish thinkers understood that even limited power is intoxicating, and for that reason human authority must be circumscribed. Moses himself, who at various times in his career served as priest, prophet, and sovereign, was ultimately required, according to rabbinic commentary, to limit his powers lest he acquire too much control over his followers.

Thus, even while recognizing the potential accomplishments of charismatic leadership, Judaism consistently prefers power- sharing to power-hording. In pre-modern Jewish communities, the functions of leadership were consistently divided between scholarly, religious, and political authorities, precisely to avoid the perils of autocracy.

The monarch, the very embodiment of despotic leadership in the ancient world, could not, in Jewish tradition, be anointed absent the combined imprimatur of the priest, the prophet, and the people-at-large. The ancient rabbinical sages, whose powers were often considered all-encompassing, were proscribed against enacting any measures unless the majority of the community could follow them.

In medieval Jewish communities, where wealthy trustees ( parnasim ) might technically have had the legal rights to issue edicts of excommunication ( herem ), they rarely did so without the concurrence of the local rabbi.

Throughout Jewish history, then, the power to lead was shared among and between communal officials. However talented and impressive individual leaders may be, they are not gods nor are they to be worshiped as such.

A SECOND reason that Judaism disdains charismatic leadership pertains to the way such leaders view their followers. Charismatics, and their circle of confidantes, are adept at manipulating believers in order to “prove” their claims and elicit widespread agreement. Adherents are expected to abandon their individual identities and judgments. Because a charismatic leader is believed to be endowed with extraordinary abilities, he is judged to be better qualified to make decisions on behalf of his followers.

In sharp contrast, the Torah describes the Jewish people as mamlekhet kohanim – a kingdom of priests; that is, an entire nation of individuals who are capable, at any point in time, of leading and resolving problems. Effective leadership, in this view, involves empowering followers to make decisions for themselves, not dictating from the top down. The concept of mamlekhet kohanim is a reminder that leadership belongs to the people.

Thirdly, the personal attributes associated with charismatics are precisely the opposite of those that Judaism considers optimal for leadership. Studies of charismatic leaders show that they are prone to exaggerated self-descriptions and claims of grandiosity. Charismatics are consumed with their missions, often with callous disregard for their followers. Their movements are obsessed with personal monument-building. This is a far cry from Judaism’s teachings that a deep sense of humility, combined with a commitment to serving not ruling, are the metrics by which effective leadership is evaluated.

Finally, the essence of an authentic leader in Jewish tradition is the individual who is always in search of his or her replacement. Unlike charismatic leadership, which is linked directly and exclusively to a single individual, Judaism holds that the true test of success is the long-term continuity of an idea or movement. When the goals of an enterprise are so deeply intertwined with the fate of one person, when followers are so dependent upon a single individual that orderly transitions are unthinkable, the result is idolatry not leadership.

The Hebrew word for leadership, manhigut , is linguistically related to the word for behavior. Truly effective leadership involves a set of behaviors – humility, power-sharing, serving and empowering others, and identifying future leadership. It is not about magical powers, blind obedience, or the desire to have others solve problems for us.

—Originally posted to The Jerusalem Post

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