Shemot: 3:5
Apparently, the whole issue came up because of Nachshon Reichel's toes.
There were those who had always felt there should be a dress code at Congregation B'nai Joshua, to maintain the decorum of the services, but things really came to a boil that fateful shabbat in August. Reuven Gross brought his Israeli son-in-law to shul with his grandchildren. Reuven was as proud as a peacock to show them off to all his friends in the congregation--three little girls with curly blonde hair and beautiful new matching dresses their Savta had bought them at Macy's (pink and white checkered jumpers with eyelet lace trim).
Everyone came over to ooh and ahh over the girls (Ayelet, Rivkah, and Shachar). They were beautiful, and in this small, close knit community, Reuven's granddaughters were like mishpocha to everyone there. Although the proud Saba was trying in earnest to daven, he had no problem pausing on occasion to beam and show them off. And their Israeli accents were a wonder for all the congregants at B'nai Joshua, for whom a heavy Jersey accent was the norm ("For breakfast I had some cawfee and ate some chawcalate cake").
It was naturally assumed that Reuven's son-in-law Nachshon would get an aliyah to the Torah. He was an honored guest and a talmid chacham as well. He would probably be asked to read the Haftarah, and if Rabbi Zuckerman had known he was coming, he might have asked Nachshon to give the weekly drasha.
There was just one problem. Nachshon wore no tie. He wore no suit or sport jacket. Truth be told, Nachshon wore no socks. He was dressed like an Israeli, for whom a white button-down shirt and a blue pair of slacks , with sandalim, was perfectly acceptable shabbat dress.
But in Congregation B'nai Joshua, that simply wouldn't do.
Irv Greenfeld went to consult the Rabbi.
"Rabbi," Irv whispered.
"Hmm?"
"What should we do with Reuven's son-in-law?"
"How do you mean, Irv?"
"Should we give him a kibbud?"
"Yes, Irv, by all means."
"But, Rabbi, look at him."
The old rabbi leaned over and took a long, hard look at the tall, young Sabra with his youthful good looks and his full head of curly hair.
"Irv, if given the choice between looking like him and looking like me..."
"I understand, Rabbi," Irv said, for he was not without a sense of humor.
"Give him Maftir."
"But--"
"Relax, Irv, it'll be fine."
THe gabbai shrugged and gave Irv the aliyah, much to the chagrin of some of the congregants.
The synagogue board meeting was two weeks later, on a Monday night (it was usually held on Sunday night, but they didn't want to conflict with the sisterhood bingo event). The meeting was usually open to all congregants-- not that anyone attended who didn't have to-- but this week, due to the sensitivity of the dress code subject, it was a closed meeting.
The president of the synagogue, Ronny Perlstein, called the meeting to order. Most of the board was in attendance, as was Rabbi Zuckerman. Normally, the Rabbi sat listening silently at the end of the table, as if in a trance, speaking only when spoken to. It was a technique he had mastered over forty years of shul board meetings. He could recall when Ronny's father, Carl, had been synagogue president in the early days of the community. The board had been no less unruly then.
Ronny called the meeting to order. First they reviewed the High Holy Day seating. Then they debated the fee that should be charged for the weekly kiddush (with and without alcoholic refreshments). They next decided to table the issue of repairs to the Bridal Suite (the closet adjacent to the women's bathroom) until the next meeting.Then they settled down to discuss the dress code.
Ronny started off the discussion. "Now we need to discuss our synagogue's decorum. I think it's disgraceful that people come to shul dressed any which way that they please. We need to have standards. This is a makom tefillah, not a bus station."
"Here, here," Dave Sternbach, the Treasurer chimed in.
"I say we set strict standards for dress in B'nai Joshua. For weekday prayer, I suggest that men must wear shirts with collars, long pants (not sweat pants),and shoes with socks. "
Everyone avoided eye contact with the Recording Secretary, Reuven Gross.
"In addition, on shabbat I think men should be expected to wear a dress suit, or a jacket and pants, and a dress shirt. sandals and sneakers are not acceptable."
"What about a tie?" Dave asked. "Shouldn't the men be required to wear a tie?"
"I think it would certainly be more appropriate," Ronny said, "and of course I would recommend it, but I'm not sure that can be enforced."
"What about when a guest comes for shabbat?" Shmuel Veiner, the Vice President, asked. "Must they be expected to conform to our dress code, even if they didn't know it before they came to visit?"
"We can provide sport coats for visitors," Dave suggested.
"And I'm sure we can exercise some leniency when it comes to our guests," Ronny said. "Our gabbayim will have the discretion to give a kibbud to a guest who doesn't adhere to the letter of the policy but is still dressed in a dignified manner."
"That's crazy," Reuven Gross said. "The whole thing is crazy. Won't we be excluding anyone from outside our community that somehow wanders into our shul to daven with us? And won't we be alienating guests who follow a more casual guideline or are from a less formal community? How about ba'alei teshuva who are new to all this? Haven't any of you been to an NCSY shabbaton or a kiruv event where those who are uninitiated in our customs walked in with sneakers and jeans, not knowing any differently?"
"Again, the gabbai can exercise his judgement," Ronny said. "We're not crazy, you know."
Reuven muttered something under his breath which the rest of the board either couldn't hear or chose to ignore.
"How about women's dress?' Dave asked.
"Let's table that for another meeting. Perhaps one where all our female board members attend."
"We've lived for forty years as a community without a strict dress code," Naomi Petrovich, the Financial Secretary said, "why should we start now?"
"I just think the time is right," Ronny said.
Ronny turned and looked across the table at Rabbi Zuckerman. "Rabbi, the board would be very interested in hearing your thoughts on this matter. What do you think?"
Rabbi Zuckerman smiled benevolently at his congregants.
"You know, Ronny, I remember when your father, alav hashalom, was president of B'nai Joshua. He was a great leader."
"Yes," Ronny agreed, "and a wonderful dad."
"He was also a very formal man. You would never see him without a jacket and tie, and I can never recall seeing him with a hair out of place."
"That's true."
"I can recall one time when he rushed straight from a pool party when he was called to help make a minyan because we were one man short. I think he actually arrived in Bermuda shorts and flip flops, because it was all he had with him. But he was the tenth man, and without him, Sid Lefkowitz wouldn't have been able to say Kaddish."
"My father was a great man," Ronny said fondly, "but those were different times."
"I suppose," Rabbi Zuckerman said, "Still, while you were all speaking, I was thinking about a pasuk in parshat Shemot."
"What pasuk is that, Rabbi?" Dave asked.
"Glad you asked, Dave." (Every rabbi should have a straight man) It is where Moshe goes to look at the sneh, the burning bush. Hashem speaks to him and says: Al tikrav halom, shal na'alecha meyal raglecha ki hamakom asher atah omed alav admat kodesh hu. He said: Do not come closer to here, remove your shoes from your feet, for the place upon which you stand is holy ground.
"Hashem had Moshe take off his shoes because of an issue of kedusha, holiness. Moshe wasn't wearing a suit or tie, and I'm relatively certain he didn't even own socks. So I suppose the formal dress isn't a prerequisite for communicating with Hashem.
"Now I know that you all want to institute this dress code because you're concerned about maintaining kavod hatefila, respect for the prayer service, but in a community where we have so much to work on, I think we can tone it down a little bit, here.
"Let's work on being mekarev those outside our community. Let's work on social action and collecting more tzedakah. Let's get more people to attend our daily minyanim. And let's lead by example and dress appropriately ourselves. But I think we can go without an official dress code for now."
And so, the item was tabled without a vote. The dress code remained unofficial. And three weeks later, when a man walked off the street on shabbat in jeans and a teeshirt in order to get an aliyah and name his newborn daughter, Ronny Perlstein gave him the jacket off his back, Dave Sternbach gave him his tallit, and Irv Greenfeld gave him an aliyah and announced the name of the baby while everyone shouted mazel tov.
Rabbi Zuckerman had never been prouder of his congregants than at that moment.