How Good and How Nice - Memories of Temple Sholom's Centennial - December 2013

הִנֵּה מַה-טּוֹב וּמַה-נָּעִים שֶׁבֶת אַחִים גַּם-יָחַד

Hinei mah tov, u’ma na’im, shevet achim gam yachad

How good it is, and how nice, to sit together as family. Psalm 133:1

Some memories of our Centennial Celebration...

At the pre-school party on Sunday, the Cantor served pizza and cake, and we all sang, “Happy Birthday to us”.

At the Religious School party, where we served 100th anniversary cake to every child in our religious school, two of our students insisted we sing, “Yom huledet sameach” - Happy Birthday, in Hebrew.

As we began the service on Friday night, and as we began havdalah at the Gala on Saturday, and even at the Religious School party, we asked our Temple Sholom families to stand up by generations, decade by decade, to show how our chain of tradition is a living one, each link a person.

The Schwartz’s, Dreiers, and Schuldenfreis sat together on Friday and Saturday and shared stories about their parents and grandparents - and then enjoyed their framed pictures of the old sanctuary in Plainfield.

Mark Nussenfeld, co-chair of the Centennial Committee, received a rousing ovation when he thanked all the spouses of our past presidents, who also gave so much to Temple Sholom.

There were so many Chai (18+ year), Double Chai (36+ year), and Jubilee (50+ year) members that they flowed off the bimah for their group aliyah.

There were bittersweet moments, as well -

Marty Schwartz remembering Rabbi Sidney Nathanson and his family’s close relationship with the Nathanson family.

Sharing with the family at her funeral, that we honored Thelma Umansky as a Jubilee member, and that the Temple office was filling up with Christmas presents for the families from Kings’ Daughters school in Plainfield - a mitzvah project started by Thelma’s relationship with Temple Sholom and the school.

The beautiful moment when our Cantor and Temple Sholom choir stopped by Center for Hope Hospice before the Founders’ Shabbat service to sing to Shelly Glaser-Freedman, and she mouthed the words along with her fellow choir members.

The service, put together by Cantor Sharlein and myself, with music and readings from across Temple Sholom’s worship history, with singing by our choir, and music by our Hava Nashira band, was appreciated not only by Temple members young and old, recent and long-term, but also by the family members visiting for the Bat Mitzvah.

Rabbi Daniel Freelander shared with us not only words of congratulations and challenge for our future, but sang a duet of his Shalom Rav with our Cantor and joined the choir for the anthem and closing song.

But, the greatest joy of all, was the proof of what Temple Sholom has been and continues to be - a place where people of all different ages, personal histories, backgrounds, and experiences can come together as a community, to share sorrows, and, on this occasion to celebrate as family.  How good, and how nice.

Thank you again - to Centennial Chairs Karyn Weingarten and Mark Nussenfeld, to all those involved in the various projects that made the weekend a success, and to all of you, as members of our Temple, who have brought us this far on our journey of a century and will continue to push us forward to our new home and our next century.

Rabbi Abraham

One Hundred Years - Let Us Rejoice and Be Glad - November 2013

Zeh hayom asa Adonai, nagilah v’nism’cha bo

This is the day that Adonai has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it. - Psalm 118:24

One hundred years ago, the Jews gathered in Judge William Newcorn’s office, writing by hand their articles of incorporation might not have been able to imagine the Rabbi of their congregation punching plastic keys to make letters appear on a screen, sent through the air, printed from pictures, and then distributed in 250 exact duplicates to every member of the congregation that they were forming.

But they did imagine a congregation that was different from any other Jewish congregation in the area.

A congregation where they could feel comfortable as Americans, as community leaders, and as Jews; where they could invite their non-Jewish friends and proudly display their faith and commitment to the common goals of humanity.  They imagined a place where their children, and the children of other like-minded families, could learn about the values conveyed by Jewish text, the history of countless generations, and the ritual and worship that tied together Jews across time and space.  They imagined a warm community where they could meet socially, learn together, share joys and sorrows, and act together for the common good.  They imagined holidays spent together, celebrations of weddings, b’nei mitzvah, and confirmations - and even the occasional funeral.  They imagined - and built - a home for themselves and future generations.

They might not have imagined an open classroom Hebrew model or a service with the words in Hebrew and transliteration projected on a screen.  They might not have imagined a machine that called all the members of the congregation to share news of a family rejoicing at a birth, or mourning a loss.  They might not have imagined the congregation with the Torah scroll unrolled at Simchat Torah and seeing the whole of a years journey of study in their hands.  They may not have imagined women on the bimah reading Torah, leading prayer, or becoming Bat Mitzvah.  They may not have imagined Jews of all colors, backgrounds, sexual preferences, or family types all standing on our bimah for a group aliyah on the High HolyDays.  They may not have imagined the numbers of non-Jewish family members volunteering, attending services, learning with and without their children, serving on the Board of Trustees.  Many of the things that we do today, they may not have recognized.

But the spirit behind these activities, the mission that drives the congregation, the feeling of Temple Sholom, shined as brightly then as it does today.  We carry with us, in our temporary housing, the words that were written on the outside by the front entrance of our home in Plainfield and will be written on the front wall of our new home in Scotch Plains - “You know what is required of you, O human being: do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.”  For one hundred years, we have strived to live up to those words.  We could do much worse then let them guide us into our next century.

We have not only survived one hundred years a Reform Jewish congregation - we have grown, and changed and thrived.  We take a moment now to celebrate, then we take up our responsibility again and carry Reform Judaism forward into the next generation.  Kein y’hi ratzon  - and so may it be.

Why I Take Prayer Seriously - October 2013

Why I Take Prayer Seriously – Rabbi’s Column – October 2013

The one who rises from prayer a better person, their prayer has been answered. Reform Prayerbook

        So, nu, Rabbi, I know that you must spend a lot of time praying, but it doesn’t work for me, so why should I bother?

Prayer Can’t Hurt - I suppose it is an easy enough statement to say that no one has ever been harmed by prayer.  I was challenged on this fact, however, when I began a discussion at the first t’fillah (prayer service) in our Hebrew School this year.  One of the students said that if we prayed for something bad to happen to someone else, and our prayer was answered, that would be harm.  The question brings up the idea of favoritism in prayer.  Does God really prefer one sports team over another, so that locker room prayer has an outcome on the score?  Or does God just keep a prayer meter running and, regardless of preference, whichever side prays the most, wins? A good answer is that we might keep our prayers to wishes that we can perform to our best ability, or that the team plays well together, or that we avoid injury.  Even those who believe in a personal God, who intervenes in daily events, can be uncomfortable with the idea that God’s actions are restricted by or predicated on the correct prayer being said in the correct way.  We are always comfortable if God would answer our prayers, but we often ignore the consequences to others, if our desires are fulfilled, or what happens to us, if someone else prays for something we thought we already had.

However, saying that prayer is not a bad thing is a rather tepid endorsement, and not the impetus for someone to immediately begin a prayerful practice.

Prayer Is Not Just about Talking to God – In Judaism, we do not do the best job of explaining some basic facts that differentiate prayer and the (perhaps) familiar prayer service.  There is a tradition of personal prayer in Judaism – with countless examples in our literature, but we do not teach it. Instead, we teach communal prayer, which is important, but is not the only type of prayer.  Personal prayers can be said at any time, by any person, in virtually any format – not necessarily even in words.  Communal prayers need to be said with others, and have a particular structure, wording, and timing.  The fact that we have both personal and communal prayer in Judaism teaches us that there is a reason for both.  Judaism considers it important to require the community to come together on a regular basis, not necessarily because it makes the prayer more efficacious, but because face to face contact is an important part of community.  There are vital parts of communal worship that let us know whether someone is in mourning, celebrating, or ill.  Then, because we are together, we can reach out and be there for each other.

Prayer Can Do Some Good - the word for prayer in Hebrew is hitpalel, a reflexive verb.  Good prayer is self-reflective.  Even if we are only asking for something we need, then we need to ask ourselves what we are missing.  Truly good prayer is an opportunity for us to tune out all the static in our lives and focus inward on where we are doing well, where we are not, and where we need help.  The answer to a prayer may be a clearer focus on what we need to do next.  It may be the strength or the insight to act rather than be acted upon.  It may be the silence that allows us to hear the cry of a person near to us.  

Prayer Is Necessary to a Balanced Life - At the High HolyDays, we spoke about punctuation in our lives - that pausing or stopping is necessary for us to appreciate what we have, rather than let it all flow by, unremarked.  What we in Judaism call prayer - is a time-out, a pause, a moment for meditation or appreciation.  How can we be grateful, if we do not take time to realize what we have?  How can we receive help, if we have not taken a moment to ask ourselves what we need?

Prayer Is Not Easy - More on that next month.

Something Old, Something New - August/September 2013

Hashiveinu Adonai, v’nashuvah. Chadeish yameinu k’kedem.

Cause us to turn, O God, and we will return.  Renew our days, as of old. - Lamentations 5:21 & Liturgy

Rosh haShanah is a time for celebration as well as self-reflection.  This year, Temple Sholom has much to celebrate - we mark our centennial year, beginning with our 100th High HolyDays as a congregation, and our new home is under construction in Scotch Plains.  If all goes according to plan, we will mark our one hundred and first Rosh haShanah in our new sanctuary.  As we look forward, we also look back.  One of the constant themes of Judaism is that we define ourselves by our history and the past is often our guide to the future.

During the month of Elul, leading up to the High HolyDays, we are supposed to look back over the past year.  We have one month to examine the past eleven, and determine where we have gone astray.  When we have acted poorly towards others, we are told to acknowledge what we have done wrong, seek out the person or persons we have wronged, offer our apology, and then do what is necessary to make things right.  Only after we have completed those steps, to their satisfaction, can we ask for atonement on Yom Kippur.

One month to repent and repair. One month to seek out all those people we have wronged, even those whose lives briefly intersected with our own.  Perhaps one of the lessons of repentance is to be constantly self-reflective, do as little wrong as possible, and then act quickly to repent.  However, we are all human; we do make mistakes; and all too often we forget in the pressing rush of our lives.

The Jewish calendar, which we will be studying this trimester, is made up of as many stops as gos.  Shabbat is a period marking the end of each week.  Holidays come at sundown, often at the time of the full moon, not conveniently on the nearest Monday to make a three-day weekend.  We think that we are masters of our own calendars, but usually we are dragged on from one appointment to the next, never pausing, never stopping.  To stop, we need to acknowledge something outside of ourselves, be it the holidays ordained by God in the Torah, or kept by the custom of our community.  If we allow the Jewish calendar to be our guide, we may find that being forced to stop and reflect can truly bring the distinction of holiness to our time.

Beginning this Rosh haShanah, let us resolve to take time - time to celebrate, time to rest, time to reflect, time to be together.  Our calendar claims to date back almost six thousand years, to our ancestors’ perceived beginning of time.  Though God took the first Shabbat on day seven, it was another few millennia before our ancestors received the memo - at Mount Sinai.  Since then, we have marked the weeks by resting on Shabbat, the seasons by celebrating harvests at Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot, and the years at Rosh haShanah and Yom Kippur.  This repeating cycle is the heartbeat of our Judaism, the pulse and flow of our history and our generational legacy.  We mark these moments together as the sun sets around the world, and across time linking our distant ancestors with our many times descendants.

The Torah, and our tradition, tell us how to mark time - that is how, as in the verse above, we say that God causes us to turn.  However, unless we continue to turn ourselves, we cannot take joy in our rest; we cannot reset our clocks and renew our days.  As in all things, we are in partnership with God.  We imagine what God wants of us, but we still need to carry it out.

L’shanah tovah v’chadashah - a good and new year, to celebrate together each and every moment - of our centennial, our new Temple home, and the lives of our community.

A Good Year, in Spite of It All - June 2013

Zeh hayom asah Adonai, nagilah v’nism’chah bo.

This is the day that Adonai has made, let us rejoice and be happy in it.    - Psalm 118:24

This verse, which Hebrew Union College– Jewish Institute of Religion students knew as Dr. Paul Steinberg’s favorite phrase,  is read as part of Hallel on every holiday service. The verse extols us to find the time to rejoice and be happy in the moments that we are in—because they are special, and because we are experiencing them.

I will admit that I, and other people in the office, looked at this past year with more dread then anticipation.  We were approaching not only a banner year for the number of B’nei Mitzvah celebrations—but a year that doubled our usual average—with a child of the congregation marking a Bar or Bat Mitzvah virtually every weekend from  Labor Day through the end of June, with only a few breaks for Jewish holidays or holiday weekends.  One of the things that we pride ourselves for at Temple Sholom is the fact that (barring twins), we celebrate only one member of our congregation becoming Bar or Bat Mitzvah each Shabbat.

In truth, we were pushed beyond our capabilities.  Despite the yeoman-like efforts of our office manager, Barbara Cooke, and our Fellowship chair and Bar/Bat Mitzvah coordinator, Dani Schwab, we’re still only a small congregation with one full-time employee.  We were blessed to bring back Cantor Sharlein in a limited-service position, but even if we’d employed her full-time, it was a lot of work, with a new student added every week.

We had to make some changes, often on the fly, in our cherished traditions.  Not every student was invited or attended every classmates’ simcha –and we will have to work hard to re-connect that community in the years to come.  Some services were in the chapel, some in the sanctuary, some at the JCC—and one service had over 400 attendees (ok, that was my daughter—thank you again to those who were able to join us and to all of you who have shared in our simcha.  Please save the date for Ezri on 6/18/16.).  We were constantly printing more prayerbooks, and we discovered that we can actually fit over 200 people, almost comfortably, in our chapel.

All in all, despite the challenges and the difficulties, I can now look back (almost) on the year and see something quite wondrous.  Even when we had to contend with a 5K race cutting off all access to our services, each and every Bar or Bat Mitzvah shone.  Just about every family was able to focus on the moment and celebrate, with their friends, their family, and their congregation, and, gradually, the nervous and worried grins on parents’ faces became smiles of pure joy.  This was indeed the day that Adonai had made, and they were there to rejoice in it.

I consider it a privilege to be able to celebrate these moments with you, my congregational family, whether (as I now have been), the proud parent watching my child on the bimah, or the proud Rabbi standing in front of the Ark with your child, passing on the millennia old blessing of our tradition.  This crazy, chaotic year has taught me that, no matter how many times I go through it, or whether one week seems to blend into the next, each child, each family stands out in their own uniqueness.

As I tell your children, I begin to get to  know them as they become Bar or Bat Mitzvah, as we work on their sermons and prepare for their services.  In the years that come after, as I teach them in JU, as we travel together to Europe, I not only get to know them better, but get to share with you the joy of watching them grow and mature.

These are the days that Adonai has made, and it is up to us to notice—to take joy and happiness in the moment.  These are the moments that we treasure and store up to shine a light for us when times may turn a little dark.  Thank you for sharing these moments with me and with each other—as part of the family of Temple Sholom.

Telling Our History in the First Person - May 2013

And you will tell the story to your child on that day, saying, “This is because of what Adonai did for me, in rescuing me from Egypt.” - Exodus 13:8

Early in April, I travelled to Central Europe with the nine members of our Confirmation class and chaperone Lynda Goldshein.  For me, this is the thirteenth time that I have been privileged to take this trip.  When I interviewed at Temple Sholom, I knew how important this trip was to the congregation, as it rated a question in my interview and was one of the two items featured on the Temple website.  Each year, I have discovered anew the importance of this trip, not only to the students who take the trip, but to the chaperones, those we visit, and to the congregation as a whole.  I encourage you to attend our Shavuot evening service, on Tuesday, May 14th at 7pm.  Our new confirmands will lead the service and share what they have learned here at the Temple and from their travels, as they stand to take their place in shalshelet hakabbalah - the chain of Jewish tradition.

The trip is nine days.  We leave the first Saturday after Pesach ends and return the next Sunday.  We have visited Warsaw and Prague, but more recently Berlin, Krakow and Budapest.  The students prepare for the trip by learning about Jewish choices throughout history - going back to Abraham’s father Terach, through the destruction of the Temple, the Middle Ages, the Enlightenment, and the shtetl.  In Europe, they learn first-hand not only about the terrible destruction of the European Jewish community in the Holocaust, but the two-thousand years of history of European Jewry that came first, and the struggles of the contemporary European Jewish community.  Ask any current or former student about the highlights of the trip, and the answers may surprise you.  Some will talk about the beauty of Krakow.  Others about the service that we hold to say kaddish by the ruined crematoria in Birkenau (Auschwitz II).  A few will talk about the Stumbling Stones scattered in the streets of Berlin, each one marking a Jew who was taken from their home and later perished in the Shoah.  Many will tell you about our Shabbat evening in Budapest, where we participate in a Hebrew/English/Hungarian service with our sister congregation - Szim Salom, who then treat us to Shabbat dinner, and a spirited song session.  They will all talk about the pierogies and the unique experiences they shared with their classmates.  (...and most of them will refer to the trip in a college application essay.) The trip, started by Rabbi Goldman, still creates a life-long impact in those who are able to participate.  A debt of gratitude is owed to the Temple for nurturing this trip, all those who have donated to the Confirmation Scholarship funds and participated in class fundraisers, and especially to those chaperones who have given of their time, their resources, and themselves to take time away from work and family to travel with teenagers.

The trip is different each year, even when we visit the same locations with the same guides.  Each class brings its own character and takes away something different.  However, there is also a profound change happening in our Jewish community, and a new responsibility is falling on the shoulders of our Confirmands.  Our congregation has once again taken the lead, through our dedicated Yom haShoah committee, in not only commemorating the Holocaust, but working hard to provide an opportunity for all of us to hear directly the voices of survivors.  Yet, each year, there are less and less of those voices to hear.  We are in a similar situation as our Israelite ancestors in the wilderness - the generation that witnessed the events of the Exodus had passed on; how could we carry on the immediate message of eyewitness accounts?

We are commanded, first in the citation above from the first seder while we are still in Egypt, to retell the story each year, and to tell it from the voice of personal experience.  Our Confirmation students, each year, share that they may have learned before about the Holocaust, and may have been deeply moved by the facts, but being present - at the House of the Wannsee Conference in Berlin, at Sachsenhausen, in the ghetto in Krakow, at Auschwitz/Birkenau, at the spot where the Shoe Memorial marks the Arrow Cross murders along the Danube - is an altogether different experience.  Beginning with their Confirmation service (Erev Shavuot - 14 May), they begin to retell this story of what happened to them - as first-hand witnesses. In doing so, they join our chain of Jewish tradition in a special way - telling their accounts of their lives - of their own Exodus, of their own Shoah. In this way, we will never forget; in this way, we will pass on our stories and ourselves, from generation to generation.

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

T'shuvah - April 2013

T’shuvah is one of the most important acts in Judaism. The idea that one can turn back to the right path, seek forgiveness, and do better, is what makes Judaism attainable and realistic, rather than an unreachable ideal.

T’shuvah (repentance) is also one of the hardest acts for us to do.  We are all afraid to admit our wrongdoings; to let others know that we make mistakes.  We are embarrassed, even when we know we need to make amends.

In the past few months, I committed a grave chet (sin).  I was not there for a congregational family who relied upon me, as their rabbi, for support in a time of crisis.  By not being there, I not only failed to provide comfort, but also caused them great pain and anguish.  For this I am truly sorry. As I realized the pain that I had caused, I consulted with rabbinic and other mentors about what I could do.  I know that there is little I can do to erase that pain, but it is my responsibility, if I am to hold myself up to the ideals that I profess and teach from the bimah, to engage in the Jewish process of t’shuvah.  The first stage of t’shuvah is admitting the chet (sin).  The second stage of t’shuvah is to spend the time and effort needed in order to do what I can to make things right, and I have already made steps in that attempt.

The next stages of t’shuvah (receiving forgiveness from the ones I have wronged, and receiving atonement) are between me and the family involved.  However, there is a final stage of t’shuvah which relates to the rest of the congregation as well.  The final stage of t’shuvah is to be in the same position again, and not to commit the same chet.  If I truly make t’shuvah, if I want to live up to how both you, as a congregation, and I, as your rabbi, perceive my role, I need to make concrete steps to do better in the future.  I freely admit, that is is not the first time that I have been there for a family in need, and it pains me that this is so.  What then can I do to not only be there in the future, but to restore the trust of my congregation?

The first thing is that I need to get out of the office more - and make those calls and visits.  When I was at the CCAR conference in Los Angeles, I met with a Rabbinic coach who gave me some advice and helped me refine my next steps.  I have also discussed this process with the Temple President and 1st Vice President, and shared it with the Board of Trustees.  I also felt that I should share it with you, the congregation, through this column.

My role as rabbi is to be there for you, as congregants.  On my part, I will try to reach out to congregants whom I have not seen recently - through phone calls, and then follow up, if desired, with visits.  On your part, I would ask that you reach out to me.  Please let me know if you are sick or in need of a call or visit, or if you know of someone who is in need of such a visit.  Any information that you share with me is confidential.  Indeed, I will not share your name with the Caring Committee, or put it on the Mi Shebeirach list, unless I have asked you first (or you have notified the Temple office).  I will keep a log of such requests, calls, and visits to be shared with the Temple leadership - the fact of the visits, not the content of the conversations.

I hope that it will not come to this, but if I do not respond in what you consider to be a timely manner, please hold me accountable.  If you have asked for a call or visit, and I have not responded, it is my error, but please call or write again.  Let me know that this is your second attempt.  If I then do not respond as you would wish or expect, please contact the Temple president.  As a congregant, you have a right to accountability and to expect the reasonable services of your rabbi and congregation.

For some, I have breached the trust between Rabbi and congregant, and I know that this rift will take a long time to heal.  I am committed, through the process of t’shuvah, to heal that rift.  I, humbly, ask for your help in this endeavor - please let me know what I am doing right, and when I am failing to live up to your expectations.  Only then I can I hope to move forward and serve you, my congregation, in the way to which I aspire and that you deserve.

A Little Teaching Can Quickly Get out of Hand - March 2013

March 2013

Nishalah sh’eilu zo bifneihem: Talmud gadol or ma’aseh gadol? Na’aneh Rabbi Tarfon, v’amar, “Ma’seh gadol”.  Na’aneh Rabbi Akiva v’amar, “Talmud gadol”.  Na’anu kulam, v’amru, “Talmud gadol, shehatalmud meivi l’yidei ma’asei.”

They were discussing between them the question, “Is study greater, or are actions greater?”  Rabbi Tarfon answered and said, “Actions are greater”. Rabbi Akiva answered and said, “Study is greater”.  The rest answered and said, “Study is greater, because study brings the hands to action.”  Talmud Bavli - Kiddushin 40b

Michelle, in her camp consulting role, was having a conversation with another professional in the field, and the discussion got to teaching knowledge about Judaism for its own sake versus engaging in Jewish practice.  For her, it helped clarify a few things that she was trying to conceptualize as she brought home the conversation.  For me, what became clear was what we, as a congregation, are trying to do, and what we are not.

We are not teaching about Judaism.  There are plenty of wonderful resources to learn about Judaism.  There are books from Judaism for Dummies to Telushkin’s Jewish Literacy that explain Jewish practice in detail.  There are books of Jewish history, of comparative religious practice.  One can take on-line courses, see TED presentations, or watch YouTube videos to learn about what Judaism is.  After all, a 3,500 year old tradition is a fascinating thing to study and to learn about.  But, that’s not what we do at Temple Sholom.

One might equate that approach with Jewish Studies - a wonderful academic endeavor that now exists at countless universities and colleges.  Students - Jewish or not - can learn Hebrew, the history of the Hebrew Bible and its interpretation, the texts of Rabbinic Judaism, the progress of Sephardic Jewry, and the Emancipation of European Jewry.  One can study hard, read a lot, write brilliant papers, and get an “A” in these courses, and still not do any better at being a Jew, then when they started.

At Temple Sholom, we don’t teach Jewish studies, we practice Judaism.  This often causes problems.  If we said in Religious School, Jews celebrate Shabbat, and these are the ways that Jews celebrate this holiday every week, our students would go home with a fine base of knowledge. Instead, we say that WE, as Jews, have marked the seventh day of the week as a day of rest throughout our history, and we make challah covers, kiddush cups and candlesticks.  We practice the blessings and the songs - and we send these children home not to tell their parents what they learned, not even to show them, but to do these things - together with their families.  And, let’s be honest, when we say Jews mark the seventh day of every week, we know that not every family in our congregation marks that day.  They may not come to services, have a special meal, or light candles and say kiddush.  Our students are then at a bit of a loss.  If they had been learning ABOUT Judaism, there would be no conflict.  Since we are trying to teach them to DO Judaism, they end up pestering their parents.

WARNING - joining a synagogue should cause you to question your religious beliefs - and re-examine your religious practice.  Hey, if you did not want to change, why did you join?  If you were happy with the way you had always practiced, you did not need to come into an unruly community of diverse practice and have to rub elbows with those who may do more (or less) or know less (or more) than you do.  The Rabbis knew about this - and that is the subject of their debate above.  Learning for the sake of learning is nice, but Jewish learning is all about doing what we have learned.  There is no point in arguing back and forth for pages about the finer points of Jewish law, if one is not going to go out and do whatever the decision is in the end.  Jewish learning has always been in the service of Jewish doing - and we are part of that tradition.

We are not an academic institution - and we are not trying to be one.  We are trying to create a community of common practice, of study that leads to debate, self-reflection, experimentation, and meaningful engagement in the world, our culture, and our history.  So, try this bizarre method of Jewish study - learn a little, do a little more, and then learn something else.  Come to services, attend a class, put your children in charge of Shabbat - then the learning can do what it is supposed to and our hands will be doing.

Thanks Again - February 2013

Omer ben Zoma: ... Ayzehu mechubad?  Hamechabeid et ha’briyot.Ben Zoma would say, “...Who is receives honor/respect?  The one who gives honor/respect to all others.”  Pirke Avot 4:1

Searching through classic Jewish texts, the word “thank” or “thanks” appears quite often, but almost invariably the entity to whom one is giving that thanks is God.  The very first prayer that we are supposed to say upon waking is modeh ani l’fanecha... - “I thank you, God, who has returned my soul to me, in mercy; great is your trustworthiness.”  During the t’fillah, in very prayer service, we say the hoda’ah, which begins modim anachu lach - “We give thanks to You.”  We end the service with aleinu l’shabeach la’adon hakol - “It is incumbent upon us to give thanks to the Lord of all.”  Gratitude is one of our primary approaches to God - as we say in the kiddush each Shabbat - for, at the very least, creating the world, and freeing us from Egypt.

Thanking other people, however, seems have been given a miss.  This past month, the Board of Trustees began a continuing conversation about expressing our gratitude to others in the Temple.  The overwhelming consensus is that we do not do enough to publicly thank all those (volunteers and staff) who give our Temple its very life.  Where the discussion arose was in how we can, appropriately and within our limited resources, give thanks.  There are a few caveats to public acknowledgements of thanks - some of which came up in conversation and some of which I have added to the list:

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• It is a given that someone will be forgotten, no matter how long the list of thanks.
• Sometimes thanking some people causes more problems than thanking no people because people who have been omitted (see rule above) or not thanked correctly can feel slighted.
• Different people consider different types of thanks sufficient - some are happy with a brief verbal thanks, in person at the time of service rendered; others prefer a phone call. For some an e-mail is enough. For others, e-mail is too impersonal, and a note is preferred.
• Who offers thanks, and what that person represents to the person being thanked, matters a great deal.  Some people prefer thanks from the people they have been working with; some from the more general body, so what they have done is officially recognized.
• Often, the person expected to give the thanks is in a position where they do not receive much overt gratitude, recognition, or positive feedback.  It can be difficult to get water from an empty cistern.
• Even if giving thanks is a necessary and right thing to do, asking people to take time to give formal thanks takes away from their available time to do things deserving of thanks.

Of course, none of these are an excuse not to say thank you, and the point of the discussion is to try and do it better.  Perhaps the reason that Jewish text is so silent on the issue of giving thanks, is that it tries to put our interpersonal relationships in a broader context.  If we wish to be respected, said Ben Zoma above, then we must show respect.  More to the point, the more that we say thank you, the more we will be thanked.  Although we understand what Antigonos of Sochos says, earlier in Pirkei Avot(paraphrased), “Do not be one who gives for the sake of reward,” we also appreciate being appreciated.  We should thank others, but in the overall way in which we show them respect - respect for who they are, where they come from, as well as for what they have done.

On my part, a general thank you to all those who help make this congregation the best it can be - its officers and trustees, committee chairs and members, volunteers of all stripes; our staff - office, teaching, and custodial; and members of the congregation who give of themselves, and who let us know what we are doing right and what we could be doing better.  I will try, in this coming year, to do a better and more public job of thanking people for what I know that they have done.  Thank you, in advance, for your patience and your consideration.

Let's Be Right, Too. - January 2013

The Talmud speaks out of the religious consciousness of its age and for that time it was right; I speak out of the higher consciousness of my age and for this age I am right. - [early 19th c. German Reform Pioneer] Rabbi Samuel Holdheim

This trimester (December - February), we began our yearly historical study with my favorite period in Jewish history, modernity.  As many of you know, I can and often do give a summary of this historical period, as it relates to us, at the drop of a hat.  In case you have not heard it before, I think I hear my hat hitting the floor.

While (Western) Europe was going through the Enlightenment in the 17th and 18th centuries, the relative Jewish position in society changed dramatically.  Jewish society did not change - Jews still lived in semi-autonomous enclaves with limited sovereignty of Jewish law, but the outside world did.  With the rise of nationalism, all natives of a particular area, regardless of whether they might be Protestant or Catholic, were granted this new concept of citizenship - which came with rights and responsibilities.  One of the hotly debated questions of the age was whether Jews could be “civilized” or whether the culture of Judaism (being millennia old) was too primitive for the modern world.  Much as we North Americans debated about our native population in the last century, intellectuals argued that the only way to modernize Jewish individuals was to take them out of their ghetto-ized communities and raise them as Europeans.  Internally, many Jews wanted to escape the ghetto and modernize as well.  A new concept, that of history and the progress of civilization led to wissenschaft des Judentums - a scientific study of Judaism, postulated that Judaism had actually changed over its 3,000+ year history - and could change again.

How could Jews modernize?  Two major ideas arose in the 19th century: The first, our answer, was that we could shrink Judaism from an all-encompassing way of life, to a “religion”, like our neighbors had, so we could take on our native nationality.  We could then be “French (or German or Italian) Jews”, worshipping in a particular way, but living to almost all outside appearances as our neighbors.  The second idea, which we will examine in our historical trimester next year, was to focus on Judaism as a national identity and create a national homeland, called Zionism.  As you can see, these were diametrically opposed answers to the same question - which led to a great deal of friction over the next few centuries.

The question that our Reform forebears asked is still relevant to us today - “How do we continue to be Jews and live in the modern world?” Different Jewish communities have offered different answers - from the Chasids in Boro Park, who work in the outside world, but live in 17th century Poland, to the Modern Orthodox, who look mainstream, but still live in communities where they have kosher food and can walk to synagogue, to us - Reform Jews who try to not only modernize our dress and behavior, but our beliefs and prayers as well.  We believe that Judaism has changed and progressed over its millennial history, and that we have as much right as our ancestors to (collectively) shape where Judaism is going.

The quote from Samuel Holdheim above reflects his belief that he stood in a long line of reformers - from Abraham, through Moses, Deborah, Hulda, Ezra, and Rabbis Hillel, Judah haNasi, Akiva, Maimonides, and Rashi.  Just as society and civilization had progressed, so much Judaism adopt the wisdom of the Enlightenment.  We, today, are the inheritors not only of those notables mentioned above, but Holdheim as well.  We have the responsibility to seriously examine what they have passed on to us, before we decide to “make our own Shabbes”.  Our Reform tradition teaches us that to make educated decisions, we must first educate ourselves.

So, join us at one of our classes (see page ?) this trimester.  Come to a congregational education program.  Read some of the books that we suggest about the history of Reform Judaism.  Start a personal course of study with me, or our Cantor.  Take up the mantle of Holdheim and resolve to help our Judaism continue to be progressive.