“It was the best of jobs; it was the worst of jobs. It was the epoch of tranquility; it was the epoch of disunity. It was the season of warmth; it was the season of freezing. It was spring for one; it was winter for another.”

One of the most thankless and perilous shul jobs is to be the person in charge of setting the thermostat for Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. When you have the power to set the air conditioning, it puts you in a very powerful yet vulnerable position. People spend a lot of time in shul during those holy days, and they want to be comfortable. The problem is that everyone has a different baseline for what feels comfortable.

I have found that, generally, when the women are comfortable the men are hot, and when the men are comfortable the women are cold. But then there are all sorts of individual proclivities as well.

Setting the thermostat is the best of jobs because one can set it as he chooses. But it’s also the worst of jobs because the one who set it will invariably be fielding complaints throughout the holiday, and likely afterward as well.

Someone once noted that the temperature should always be cooler in shul rather than hotter. If someone is cold, he can always wear an additional sweater or jacket. But if someone is hot, he doesn’t have many options to feel more comfortable.

On the other hand, I’ve also heard people complain that they didn’t bring their winter coats to shul on Rosh HaShanah because the holiday isn’t during the dead of winter.

In general, it’s important for people to “take the temperature”—not only the physical temperature of their bodies but also their emotional and mental temperature as well. Sometimes we don’t realize how worked up we are about something, or, conversely, how indifferent we are. The reality is our initial attitude has a significant effect on our reactions and behaviors.

It’s been said that our society is addicted to outrage. In a Wall Street Journal article titled “America Is Addicted to Outrage. Is There a Cure?” (November 30, 2018), Lance Morrow points out that outrage has become the signature emotion of American public life. He notes the tragedy of the fact that people today can’t tolerate disagreement:

“The various tribes have broken off negotiations with all differing points of view. They excuse themselves from self-doubt and abandon the idea of anything so weak as compromise or, G-d forbid, ambivalence: No other perspective could possibly be valid. Americans have lost tolerance for the 51%-to-49% judgment call, even though that’s about the margin of their disagreement on almost everything. People give themselves over to the pleasures of self-righteousness and self-importance that come with being wronged when you know you’re in the right. Among the civic emotions, outrage is a beast of the prime; to harness outrage is to discover fire.”

The fact is that it’s easier to rage at one’s opposition than it is to have the patience to listen and understand the perspective and viewpoint of one who disagrees.

The greatest democracy in the history of the world now seems to be at a crossroads. The United States was founded on dialogue and joint efforts. It has endured by maintaining those values. But currently the country is reeling in the wake of the assassination of a debater whose final platform was “Prove me wrong” in open dialogue.

The political temperature has grown way too high, causing national delirium and fear of the future. We must find a way to chill the political temperature in this country if it has any hope of remaining the beacon of democracy.

On the other hand, there are times when a lack of emotion can be a severe deficiency. A married couple may be cordial and polite but have no meaningful relationship. They can live more of a coexistence without much of a relationship. Relationships are emotional, which means that at times they can be messy and volatile. But (hopefully) most of the time the emotion they feel is one of fierce fealty and devotion toward each other.

One of the symbolic meanings of the sound of the shofar is to jolt us out of our stupor. Daily life can become lackadaisical and unemotional. The shofar is like an alarm, calling for us to recapture the emotional investment of daily living. Don’t be lackadaisical about your avodas Hashem. Get involved! Appreciate and cherish what you have. Value opportunities and embrace possibilities.

The New Year affords us new opportunities to reignite our passion for our values and those we love most. At the same time, it reminds us to “chill” with the things and people that bother us. We need to be more tolerant, patient, and understanding.

I conclude by asserting that it makes sense that if people get so worked up and heated about the temperature in shul (and other such things), the air conditioner should be raised to help cool off the hotheads. But perhaps if they read this article and work a little harder on being more tolerant—especially of the one who sets it—the air conditioner can work a little less hard as well.

Rabbi Dani Staum, LMSW, is a popular speaker, columnist, and author. He is a rebbe at Heichal HaTorah in Teaneck, NJ. and principal of Mesivta Orchos Yosher in Spring Valley, NY. Rabbi Staum is also a member of the administration of Camp Dora Golding. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. and at www.strivinghigher.com.