January/February 2023 - We’ll Leave the (Eternal) Light on for You

Al tifrosh min hatzibur - אל תפרוש מין הצבור

[Hillel would say] Do not separate yourself from the community. Pirkei Avot 2:4

How wonderful it was, and how nice, to gather together this past month to celebrate the ten years that Cantor Sharlein has spent as a member of our community.  Other than Rosh haShanah, it was the largest gathering of the congregation that we have had in over three years (and, it was pointed out to me, though there were more people for Rosh haShanah services, there were more cars in the lot for the Cantor’s celebration.). How meaningful it was to bring back Cantor Susan Caro (who served as student Cantor here in the 90’s, when she was known as Susan Dropkin) who also helped Cantor Sharlein on her path that ended up with us.

At the service, I told the story of when Cantor Sharlein first came to the Temple as a student Cantor.  In those days, congregations would send their detailed applications in to HUC and students would choose with whom they wanted to interview.  Cantor Sharlein did not want to interview with us, although we had seen her resume and thought she would be a great fit.  Our spies told us that she was afraid that if she met with us, she might fall in love with the congregation and end up having to commute all the way from Brooklyn to New Jersey and back - 2 or 3 times a week.  I was sent to chase her down and persuade her to interview.  She did, and she was attracted to our haimische congregation; and was our student Cantor for three years, before she moved on to a full-time job outside of Detroit.  Four years later, when the Temple decided that we needed to move from a student to a limited service (part-time) cantor, I ran into Cantor Sharlein and her very cute baby daughter at the URJ Biennial in DC.  I asked her if she had any colleagues who might want a part-time gig in New Jersey, and she said that she might want to come back.

Al tifrosh min hatzibur - Do not separate yourself from the community.

Cantor Sharlein came to us for the community that we offered, and she came back (or so she said in front of the whole congregation in December) because this was the community she wanted to be a part of, and where she wanted to raise her children. Not only did we get a chance to celebrate that decision, but we’ll have an opportunity to celebrate that child, as she marks becoming a Bat Mitzvah, this May.

A quick search of my Temple Topics articles and sermons might show that this quote - al tifrosh min hatzibur is one that I return to again and again.  What does it mean to be a part of a community, and what does distance matter?  When we were locked in our homes for COVID, we shared presence through Zoom - a medium through which many who are unable to be at the Temple as often as they like have adopted as a way to be present as much as they can.  Those of us who are traveling, and eating out, and seeing friends, have not been as present.  Recently, many old Temple friends gathered for a difficult purpose - comforting the Szeto family at Garrett’s passing. Many of those present remarked that they had not seen each other in quite a while.  At the dinner after the cantor’s service, I went from table to table to see members of our congregation that I had not seen in a few years, sitting together, chatting, laughing and catching up.  Sometimes, we forget what it is we were missing, and, just like our cantor, we need an invitation to return.

Let this serve as your invitation - come back to your Temple community.  Come to a service.  Come to a class.  Come to a bet mitzvah service. Come to a shabbat dinner.  Dust off the Dutch oven and make a chili for the cook-off.  You’ll see old friends and remember how you made new friends when you first joined us.  If there are people that you want to see - parents of your children’s classmates, people that you served on a committee with, Temple members you sang with in the choir, or built a house with on Mitzvah Day - they probably want to see you as well.  Find them again at the place you  first found them - the building may be different, and some of the faces may have changed, but the community is the same.  Waiting for someone to revive the group that used to try different restaurants?  Pick a restaurant, call the Temple, and set up a date for us to meet.  Looking for people to read a book with? Play Mah Jongg? Take the step to reach out to our current leadership and let them help you plan that event.

Al tifrosh min hatzibur - do not separate yourself from the community, for too long.  Even though I am away right now on a two month sabbatical, I look forward to coming back to my Temple family.  You can come back, too.  We’d love to see you.

Rabbi Abraham

November/December 2022 - The Best Laid Plans...

הַכֹּל צָפוּי, וְהָרְשׁוּת נְתוּנָה, וּבְטוֹב הָעוֹלָם נִדּוֹן. וְהַכֹּל לְפִי רֹב הַמַּעֲשֶׂה

[Rabbi Akiva would say] Everything has been fore-ordained and/but free will has been given. And the world is judged in goodness, and all [are judged] by the majority of their deeds. Pirkei Avot 3:15

Judaism is a religion that embraces paradoxes - and the Sages of the Mishnah and Talmud the most of all. In the statement above, Rabbi Akiva states two (for him) tautological truths - God is all-knowing, and therefore every action that will happen had been foreseen, and therefore, foreordained.  Human beings have free will and can make their own decisions.  The first is part of Akiva’s understanding of the God who created the universe, who would not have done so without knowing the result of that action.  Yet, that same God gives us mitzvot to follow.  There is no point in giving reward for following those mitzvot, for acting for the good in the world, if we do not have the choice to do good or not. The conjunction between these phrases in pirkei avot is a vav, which we often translate as the English word “and”, but there is much more nuance in that prefix, which can also mean “but”.  Contained in that letter is the paradox - is there a contradiction in there being both fate and free will?

We like to think that we can make the decisions in our own lives.  On the Monday before Yom Kippur, I reached out to my colleagues.  I had what I thought was a virus, and was running a fever.  I reminisced about the “good,old days” when a fever of 105 was insufficient to keep a clergy member from the bimah, hallucinations or no.  When I was fever free as of Monday evening (24 hours before Kol Nidrei), I breathed a sigh of relief.  Even though I was not feeling well, I could choose to lead services, and be there with my congregation.  A few hours later, fate stepped in, and the PCR test, which my wise wife, Michelle, insisted that I take, came up positive for COVID.  I was going to be observing Yom Kippur services from home.

Mostly, this letter is a thank you - to Cantor Sharlein, who barely blinked as she ended up having to deal with a lot more than she usually does (which is already a great deal) on one of the longest days of the clergy year.  Special thanks to Rabbi Mary Zamore, who had volunteered to help out when I might have had a fever, was relieved when I said I did not, and then stepped in again at 9pm - less than 24 hours before the first service.  Thank you to our Temple leadership - who stepped up to cover what they could, who provided Michelle and I support (as she got sick two days later), and who took care of themselves through COVID infection as well.  Finally, thank you to all the members of Temple Sholom, who took everything in stride, supported our Cantor and fill-in Rabbi, and made sure that we could complete the ten days of repentance as a congregational family.

It was an odd thing to watch the services that I had expected to lead, from my dining room, on line.  (However,I think I did a better job flipping the slides than I do when I am standing on the bimah, and often get carried away by the Cantor’s voice and prayer. It was very difficult not to unmute and boom out from the Temple sound system.)  I miss seeing many of you, whom I only get to see a few times a year.  It was so encouraging to see a crowd of over 200 congregants on Rosh haShanah morning - probably our largest gathering since the onset of the pandemic.  I had hoped that we would increase as the HolyDays proceeded.

“Mann tracht, un Gott lacht”, as they say in Yiddish - “People plan, and God laughs.”  We act with free will, but sometimes things are out of our hands.  There is no better lesson for our High HolyDays.  We must act as if we can make the world a better place, even as it seems that we can have no effect on the great whole.  Akiva reminds us - in the end, the world is judged in goodness, and our job is to, more often than not, do what is right.

Rabbi Abraham 

What's Your Story? - Fall 2022

When the time comes for God to get back directly involved in our ancestor’s lives, God first has to introduce Godself to Moses.  In Exodus chapter 3, God tells the story that we are used to, “I am the God of your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”  God begins by defining the past relationship, and then explains what is keeping God up at night - the crying out of the Israelites from their slavery in Egypt.  God wants to end that suffering, and reaches out to Moses to be on the team.

I have been doing a great deal of learning about “community organizing”, including a training that I attended this summer.  As well, my spouse, Michelle, as part of her work for the Union of Reform Judaism, took a course out of Harvard with Marshall Ganz, one of the premier organizers of our time.  Needless to say, our dinner table conversations have been lively.  Ganz talks about the “story of self”, which organizers use in a one to one meeting to explain their own and to learn others’ self-interest.  The key component to organizing is relationship, and the building block of relationship is the sharing of stories.

This past month, our Board of Trustees had a mini-retreat, which we started by telling our personal stories of how we came to Temple Sholom.  I was almost one year out of rabbinic school, and had been traveling to a small congregation in Wheeling, West Virginia, as their interim rabbi during their 150th year.  I had flown to West Virginia, after I had learned that several of the congregations that I was looking at had decided to go through student placement with HUC as better odds.  By the time I landed, the Director of Placement had let me know that a 300 family congregation in Plainfield, NJ was interested, and wanted an interview.  After a quick phone interview, I came in person to the Temple in Plainfield for an interview the next week. The Temple had not been happy with any of the previous candidates, who didn’t seem to quite fit..  I had one strike against me, when I said I did not want any of the proffered seltzer which was the only refreshment offered.  However, once we started talking, things went better.  As I remember it, when I said that I had grown up in a small congregation down the road, and so I knew suburban New Jersey Reform Judaism, a wave of relaxation went around the table.  The next week, I was offered the position, and I have been here ever since (over 23 years, so far).

When I told that story (about telling my own story in that interview), I realized that most of the people in the room (other than Susan Sedwin, who had been at the interview) probably did not know how I started at the Temple. Other than Pam Brander and Susan, everyone else in the room had joined our congregation since I had been the rabbi.  As I learned the stories of the others in the room, I realized how important it was to share mine as well.

We strive to create a haimische community here at Temple Sholom. We also do that through relationship.  Some of that relationship is built sitting together in services, watching children together in religious school, making meatloaves, building the sukkah, or even just stuffing envelopes or delivering Rosh haShanah goodies together.  Shared activity is another building block of relationship, but to do that, you have to choose to be present.  And, when you are physically present, you have to choose to be personally present, by sharing who you are and what you care about.

These High HolyDays, make the effort to reach out to someone else in the congregation. It can be the person sitting next to you, whom you may never have met, or had a conversation with, or it could be someone you’ve spent time with, but never had a chance to share your story.  Take that moment to share your story and then be a respectful listener and listen to theirs.  Take it in. Appreciate their story and appreciate what brought them to this place to share with you.  I would love to share stories with you - let’s make a time to do so.

Moses is pushy. He keeps asking God, “How will I introduce you to the people? What name shall I use?”. In the end, God finally says, “Ehyeh asher ehyeh - I will be, what I will be.”  Once we know each other, we can move our congregation to that point - to move what it is that we could be, to what we will be.

L’shanah tovah,

Rabbi Abraham