Category: Uncategorized

 The URJ Biennial was an amazing conclave, several days of camaraderie and learning. It was powerful time reminding us that we are more than just ourselves; we belong to something greater, something that helps shape us and support us.  The core message of the Biennial was about the power of Relationships and Values.

 Many of us talk about relationships; It is a hot topic.  Noted Rabbis such as Larry Hoffman and Richard Address and academics like Dr. Ron Wolfson have delved into this idea.  I am a strong believer in relationships and how we find meaning in the Synagogue because of the relationships we form with each other.  But there is another piece.  That other important piece is the Values of Judaism.  How we find meaning and wisdom in our tradition not only for ourselves, but also how we transmit those values to others including the next generation.  The combination of these two powerful ideas, relationships and values, creates an important role for the synagogue as a place where they come together to form connections of deep and enduring meaning.  Now, like never before, these ideas resonate.  We live in a world where individualism is held in such high esteem that so many of us risk being cut off completely from each other.  Meaningful relationships, relationships imbued with values, are more important than ever.  Finding people to share life’s moments becomes ever more challenging and we find ourselves increasingly alone at precisely the times when we need others the most.  Sometimes it is a special someone who can make all the difference.

 For those of us who have been glued to the television set Thursday nights, we have watched with varying degrees of bated breath the unfolding saga of the lives of the people who work at Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital on the show Grey’s Anatomy.  Two of the main characters Kristine and Meredith have bonded as kindred spirits.  Much more than close friends, their lives are inextricably intertwined, each referring to the other as “their person.”

 Does each of us have “a person?”  This goes right to the heart of what it means to be a part of a synagogue.  When we come to our congregation, the relationships that we form become our special family.  We are in relationship with others who care about us, and likewise, we care about.  We are there to celebrate each other’s joys and carry each other in their sorrow.  Each of us is challenged to consider how we interact in our congregation and to ask if indeed we have such relationships.

 Rabbi Leora Kaye of Temple Rodeph Sholom in New York casts this idea of having “a person” in a Jewish way. She asks, “ Does each of us have our own Minyan?”  This change in the concept is important; for in the synagogue we find community, not just a single person.  So as the Minyan is defined as the minimum number required for a community to be present, we then appropriate ask “who is our community?”

 Your clergy is supposed to care about you, but you are also supposed to care about each other.  It is not sufficient to say, “it is the rabbi’s job”; for it is our job, every one of us, to create the space where we can become invested in each other.  As our clergy spend much of their time providing pastoral care, so too all of us here can console the bereaved, attend the sick and be present at moments of need.  We need to reach out amongst ourselves and continue to build this aspect of our community.  How many people have we not attended to because we simply did not know there was a problem? Often a person in need is unable to reach out.  But if there was a circle of invested friends, a minyan, someone would likely know about the illness and that person could call upon the rest of us so we too could lend support. And in the interim, this minyan is already present offering love and support.  We aspire to this idea with every Mishebeyrach prayer we chant.

 But what if we do not know how to create our minyan?

 Moses provides insight into this question in parshah Shemot.  We see Moses reach out to help those unable to help themselves.  In particular, Moses strikes down the Egyptian Taskmaster in defense of the Hebrew slave.  Later, he singlehandedly fends off marauders at the well protecting the Midianite women.  This famous type-scene leads Moses to meet his future wife and being welcomed into the clan of his future father-in-law and most trusted advisor, Jethro.  Moses, the solitary leader of our people, finds comfort and a home in his new community.

 Like Moses, we then can help others who find themselves alone or unable to create community on their own.  We can invite them in and help them create their caring community.  Many of us already engage in these extraordinary acts of kindness, what Rabbi Rick Jacobs, President of the URJ, calls Audacious Hospitality.  What if we all practiced this approach to our relationships?

 We would strengthen our relationships here within our synagogue and we would welcome the outsiders into our tent who also seek relationships and meaning.  Our family grows and no one need finds themselves alone.  We create a place of extraordinary love and strength and support, a place of relationships and Jewish values.  And, hand in hand, we can make it through anything together, and continue to prosper.

 Cain yehi ratzon, May this be God’s will and our action.

Wishing everyone a year of hope and of peace

~David

Some American academics have decided to “decry injustice” in Israel deciding to ostracize and boycott Israeli universities and the professors affiliated with them.  It is disingenuous at best, and anti-semitism masquerading as pro-oppressed, anti-oppressor (Zionism) in reality.

Harvard and Yale Slam American Studies Association Over Israel Boycott – Tablet Magazine.

I miss Christmas.  Maybe that is an odd thing for a rabbi to say.  But some of my fondest childhood memories are centered on that most special time of the year.  We would pile into the car and make the trek down to Schenck Avenue in Great Neck from the northern New York suburbs, the holy city of Monsey.

Their second floor apartment was warm and inviting, the aroma of grandma’s cooking the holiday meal and the warmth of the radiator steam heat dominated the distinct and usual grandma and grandpa smells. In the living room was the red velvety tufted Victorian-style couch, in one corner was the chair where grandpa sat, complete with an ottoman where he rested his feet when one of us was not sitting there by him.  Next to the chair was a rack filled with magazines and a small wicker rocking chair used by each of the grandchildren until we were too big to fit.  In front of the sofa was the coffee table with the glass top, painted with a floral design of greens, gold and a touch of red, which miraculously survived all of us.  There was always strange food arranged on top, dried fruits and nuts.  The figs, dates and apricots were arrayed in circles with small ivory picks to spear them and the holiday napkins stacked along side. I remember the walnuts particularly since they were in the shells and the necessary utensils, the metal nutcracker and the pick, were lined up like a surgeon’s tools waiting to be called upon for their specific and important duties.  Although, I never really liked the taste, I loved cracking the nuts open and prying out the meat embedded inside.

 In the corner was a small tree, with presents piled around its base.  The tree shimmered and glowed with the colored lights and silver tinsel hanging.  The distinct smell of pine filled this room.  We distributed the presents, there was always something for everyone no matter who showed up.  We then dutifully waited our turn to open out gifts.  We usually went from youngest to oldest, and even though we were among the youngest, the wait to open the presents seemed interminable.  I usually got a pair of cowboy boots and a fancy cowboy shirt with mother-of-pearl snap buttons from grandma.  It wasn’t a surprise since we all made the trip to the store on Route 17 in New Jersey to get our fittings.  These were a tribute to grandma’s past.  She was a Texan, swept away from her family in Dallas by her new husband to a very foreign place called the Bronx.

 Part of Grandma’s legacy was her upbringing as a Southern Baptist.  Grandma worked hard to raise her children and her grandchildren as Jews, always participating and engaging.  But she never converted. Christmas eve was our family’s way of acknowledging her past.  I never would get the chance to ask her about how she felt about leaving all that behind when she went to New York, but I think I understand it now.

I profoundly miss Christmas.  Although we never celebrated it as a religious holiday, it was a time filled with love and family.  I will remember always the joy of those wonderful times we spent together.  I cherish the memories and grandma will always hold a special place in my heart.