Phyllis Sommer is a bad friend. There, I've said it. Though she has, for the past ten years that I've been in the rabbinate been a loving colleague and confidant, she has simply gone too far.
I mean, would a friend make me look beyond myself to recognize that there are those in my inner circle who are facing hardship and pain?
Would a friend burden me by introducing me to seventy other like-minded people, and intertwining my life, my interests, and my passions with theirs?
Would a friend compel me to support legislation like the Gabriella Miller Kids First Research Act, when I'm inclined to be blasé about politics?
Would a friend want me to sit in front of my computer, heartbroken and weeping, as I read stories of kids like Zach and Rebecca and Sam and Jessie and countless others?
Would a friend involve me in a crazy endeavor to change my hairstyle, believing that in so doing we could perhaps change the world?
No way- a "true" friend would have allowed me to go on with my life, content to have us touch base once or twice a year, and never would have interfered with my social conscience.
So I'm mad at Phyllis Sommer. She's a bad friend. And the world needs many, many more just like her.
(P.S. I'm also mad at Michael Sommer. Rebecca Einstein Schorr, in that vein, I'm furious with you.)