Jewish Stories #3 - The Difference is the Silver

Rabbi’s Column - Dec/Jan 2015/6

In the Jewish communities of Eastern Europe, it was often the rabbi’s job to make sure that there were enough funds for the poor. While the poor might be turned away at the door, people felt they could not turn away the rabbi.  One such rabbi called upon a rich man in his town who was known for not giving tzedakah.  The rabbi took the man to his front parlor and told him to look in an ornate mirror that hung on the wall.  “What do you see?”, the rabbi asked.  “I see myself,” said the rich man.  The rabbi then took the man to the window and asked him what he saw.  The rich man said that he saw the town square: merchants selling their wares, porters carrying packages, women hurrying home with their purchases, and the poor begging for money.  The rabbi asked the rich man if he knew what the difference was between the two views.  The man was confused.  The rabbi explained that both the window and the mirror were sheets of glass, but the mirror was backed by silver - and that silver caused the rich man to see only himself, not the people outside.

The simple meaning of this story is that money (silver) can blind us to the needs of others.  Possessions have a lure of their own, that leads us to see only what we have.  For us, perhaps, there is a more complex lesson.  What is the silver that blocks us from seeing others, instead causing us only to see our own reflection?

For some, the silver is our political outlook.  We read every news event, every public poll, every opinion piece through a predetermined lens.  Anyone who disagrees with us is a socialist or a fascist.  We are the only ones who see clearly, and anyone who disagrees in an idiot - or, at best, willfully ignorant.  Polishing our mirror, we delete the posts and defriend those who disagree with us.  Our views are reflected back to us from a thousand similar mirrors.

For some, the silver is the opportunities that we have had on our own journeys through life.  We see the struggles that we have overcome, as if everyone had the same tools, the same starting point, the same difficulties.  We wonder why others complain about not being able to achieve as we have, not realizing that our experience is not universal. that we may have had advantages we did even realize.

For some, the silver is our own difficulties.  We are so overwhelmed by what challenges we face, from day to day, that we cannot lift our heads up to see that not only might there be those worse off than we, but there may also be those around us struggling with the same things that we are - possible allies in our fight.

For some, the silver is religion.  Either their faith gives them pat answers that fail to awake a sense of outrage, or encourages questioning and action to help others, or their rejection of certain aspects of religion has blinded them to the good that is found in religious community, in Divine inspiration, in the call to heal the world.

Again, we return to the words of Hillel. There is a time for the mirror - “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”  But we cannot define ourselves and fulfill our desires without seeing others as real people, co-existent on this earth - “If I am for myself alone, who am I?”  How do we know when we have been too self-focused?  “If not now, when?”  We are constantly called to look out the mirror, and to see ourselves in the larger context of the world that we live in.

Tap that camera icon.  Instead of a selfie, look at the other side of your phone.  Refocus past the length of your arm, to see everything else.  We were not created to idle our hours in self-reflection, without being drawn into the world to interact, to build, to heal, and to improve.  Peer through the murky glass to see the world outside.  Then open the door, take a step out, meet some people, hear what they have to say, and do some good, together.

Jewish Stories #2 - You're Right, Too

You’re right, too.

Once, in a small town, there were two old friends who were engaged in a bitter and long-standing argument.  What the exact subject of the argument was is not important, nor does anyone now remember.  However, the argument was not only impacting their friendship, but the rest of the town was pulled into choosing sides.  Finally, a mutual friend persuaded the two to bring their argument to the rabbi.  The three proceeded to the rabbi’s study, where each side laid out their case.  After the first friend had presented her argument, the rabbi nodded sagely and said, “You’re right.”  The second friend, somewhat indignant, laid out his version of the case, in which version the details led to exactly the opposite conclusion.  Again, the rabbi nodded sagely and said, “You’re right”.  Exasperated, the mutual friend of both said that the arguments were diametrically opposed, and that it was impossible for both to be right.  The rabbi nodded sagely and said, “You’re right, too.”

This summer, while I was on faculty at URJ Eisner Camp, we took the opportunity to teach the older units in a beit midrash.  Each faculty member, and a few staff, picked a favorite subject, and taught a quick ten minute lesson several times, as the campers selected which sessions to attend. I sat under a tree with the words, “You’re right, too” over my head, and I taught about how I believe this story is fundamental to understanding Judaism (and also the impetus for writing this Temple Topics’ series on canonical stories in Judaism).

I told the story and then gave two examples. The first is from the Torah.  I asked them to remember the first two chapters of the Bible.  Chapter one and chapter two each tell a creation story. The first story details how the world was created in six days, and humanity was created - male and female - as the last act of creation.  The second story has a single human being created first, no time mentioned, and the story ending with God separating the first human being into male and female individuals.  Many commentators have attempted to reconcile the two stories, but the simple fact is that they are different and contradictory.  How interesting that our most sacred text, that we read through, over and over again, each year, begins with such a contradiction.  There must be a lesson.

Second, I pointed out the statement from Pirke Avot (the foundational document of Rabbinic Judaism, found in the Mishnah) that states - הכל צפוי, והרשות נתונה- hakol tzafui, v’hareishut n’tunah - everything is known in advance, but free will has been given.  In other words, there is predestination and we can make our own choices. “And” and not “but” - two mutually exclusive theological understandings.  On the one hand, God, who is all-knowing and created the world, knew and knows everything that will ever happen, and therefore set each action at the beginning.  On the other hand, we as human beings have the ability to make whatever choices we may will; we are in control of our own destinies.

Some faiths would attempt to reconcile these statements - and even in Judaism there are attempts.  Rather, however, let us ponder the nature of a religion that accepts at its core that there are fundamental dichotomies in the world, and then moves on.  Self-aware compartmentalization is not a rationalization, but endemic to the Jewish understanding of the world.  Sometimes, two opposite things are true.  We can imagine that God - like a computer with infinite computing capacity - can have seen all the variables of each neuron firing from the beginning and therefore created that first moment with the end in sight.  Yet, we cannot live our lives without the equally important knowledge that our own individual choices matter, that we have the ability and responsibility to change the world that we live in.  We can both acknowledge the omniscience of God in the same moment as we celebrate our right to choose.

Sometimes arguments which fall apart in logic class can be better illustrated by stories.  Obviously, the being that could exist before time and could create this universe would know what would happen in each and every case.  That’s right.  Just as obviously, we feel the import of every path taken and not taken, every choice made and every disaster averted.  That’s right.  Two ideas incompatible with each other - and yet they are both true.  That’s right, too.

Jewish Stories #1 - The Feather Pillow

God made [hu]man[ity], because [God] loves stories. - Elie Wiesel

[In our religious school, we make sure each week to study the parashat hashavuah (the portion of the week) - the section of the Torah that will be read that Shabbat as we cycle through the whole Torah.  Our purpose in this endeavor is to help our children “see the world through parashat hashavuah glasses”.  Our hope is that, when they view their own actions, or try to understand the world we live in, that they use the metaphors provided by the stories in the Torah.  Sigmund Freud made the choice, when he was describing psychological behavior, to use Greek mythology.  We want to add to the palette of Western metaphor through examples that feature Jewish values and tradition.  

However, there are many other stories beyond those we read in the Torah.  I have decided to use this space this year to highlight nine Jewish stories from outside the Torah and the Bible.  Some of these stories shine a light on all of Jewish understanding; some illustrate individual values in Judaism.  In either case, my hope is that these stories will become a part of your vocabulary - of the way that you understand the world, and how you apply your Judaism in your life.  This month’s story was one that our Director of Education, Jennifer Levine, shared with our JU students at their recent Shabbaton on the Jewish values of friendship.]

There is a Chasidic tale [of which I have also found a version ascribed by the Catholics to the 16th century saint, Philip Neri] about a member of a small village who came to the rabbi trying to engage in t’shuvah (repentance).  The man explained to the rabbi that he had heard something about another person in the village and had spread the story to a few other people.  Later, the person confronted him about spreading the tale and was quite angry.  The man said that he had apologized and tried to make amends, but the other person still had not forgiven him.  Wasn’t apologizing enough? The rabbi thought for a moment and asked if the man had a down pillow.  He did, and the rabbi told him to bring it to the center of the town square.  The rabbi and the man stood in the middle of the square on a windy day, and the rabbi told the man to rip open the pillow and scatter the feathers within.  As the man did so, the wind took the small feathers and spread them all over the square.  “Now,” said the rabbi, “you must gather up all the feathers and put them back in the casing, to repair the pillow.”  The man said that this was impossible; that the feathers had spread all over the town by now, and probably out into the countryside.  They were stuck in windows; blown up on rooftops; carried off by other birds.  There was no way to repair the pillow.  “Ah,” said the rabbi, “so, too, are your words.  Once they have left your mouth, you have no control over where they may spread and your apology cannot gather them back together and repair the damage that you have done.”

The message of this story is both obvious and nuanced.  Especially today, in the age of social media, we know that words, or even pictures, that we have shared or posted are very quickly outside of our control.  Since the web never forgets, we may find that today’s gossip lasts far longer than even the physical memory of our friends and neighbors.  We must be careful about what we say.  Classically, Judaism has always considered gossip to be one of the worst sins.  In the Talmud, the rabbis said that saying bad things about others was the reason that people got leprosy.  They also compared shaming someone to murder - as it caused color to rise in the embarrassed person’s cheeks, which was analogous to spilling blood.  

Why were the rabbis so exercised about gossip?  Perhaps because it was such a common frailty in human beings.  In some communities, one is told not to say even good things about someone else, as they could be misinterpreted, or may not be what the person mentioned desires, or even just as a fence around the law - a practice designed to prohibit the slippery slope.  Reputation - a good name - is one of the mechanisms that helps society to interact.  We rely on others and we are given consideration based on what they may think of us.  Gossip chips away at that social glue.

However, there is a downside to this story as well.  T’shuvah is such an important part of Judaism.  There are very few sins which we believe cannot be repented.  If it is truly impossible to gather all the original feathers back to repair the pillow, then is lesson that forgiveness is impossible for gossip?  If so, human frailties will quickly lead to the complete deterioration of civil society.  There must be a way to make things right; to reconstruct some kind of pillow, even if not the original stuffing.

The story exists to place a strong check on our to easily indulged in practice of spreading the latest about other people.  But, we should not take this lesson so far as to abandon the practice of attempting to piece things back together.  We try; we fail - and what makes society resilient is that we can apologize, we can do our best to make things right, and we can forgive others.  We need not forget - there is still the patch where the pillow was re-sewn - but we can repair our relationships and move forward together.

Stories can be metaphors to teach us an aspect of behavior; to help us understand ourselves and each other better. We share stories as we share ourselves and our views of the world.  Perhaps that is the meaning of Elie Wiesel’s quote above - that we were created so that God could see the created world in as many different ways as possible, to experience and enjoy the panoply of creation.

Arguing for the Sake of Heaven - September 2015

Any dispute that is “for the sake of Heaven” will in its end endure [it will have enduring value], but one that is “not for the sake of Heaven” will in its end not endure. What is a dispute that is for the sake of Heaven? This is a dispute of Hillel and Shammai. And one that is not for the sake of Heaven? This is the dispute of Korah and his group.  - Pirke Avot 5:17

The High HolyDays are one of the few times of the year that not only bring our families together, but our congregational family as well.  As we all know from family gatherings, the joy of being together is sometimes offset by the resumption of old arguments, or the strain of new divisions.  For some families, there are topics which are taboo for the Thanksgiving, Rosh haShanah or Passover tables.  Everyone knows that Uncle Abe is a fanatic about topic x, so all agree not to mention the subject.

The elephant in the room, as it may be, this season, is the “Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action” - also know as the Iran nuclear deal.  Opinions range widely in the American (and Israeli) Jewish community for good reason.  A nuclear armed Iran is an existential threat to the state of Israel (as well as other Gulf states).  Where Jews (and others) fiercely differ is whether the current agreement is the best way to move that threat into the future, or whether it is fundamentally flawed and will not only fail to prevent Iran from obtaining deliverable nuclear weapons, but will also allow increased funding of Hezbollah, Hamas, and other destabilizing terrorist groups.

There is a debate going on among rabbis about speaking about the issue during High HolyDay sermons.  On the one hand, most rabbis have neither degrees nor expertise in foreign affairs, international sanctions, or nuclear non-proliferation.  On the other hand, if this issue is important to the Jewish community, the pulpit is the place shed the light of Jewish tradition on the matter at hand.

From this rabbi’s perspective, the makhlokhet (the argument or dispute) is the appropriate place to listen to Jewish wisdom.  In the quote from Pirkei Avot above, the sages of the Talmudic era focus on the purpose of various disputes. The ideal is a dispute that is “for the sake of Heaven”.  What does this phrase mean?  The rabbis focus on two examples - the house of Hillel and the house of Shammai, and the followers of Korach.  Korach, you may remember, stands up to Moses in the book of Numbers and asks who put Moses in charge, if all the people were holy. The rabbis see this argument as more about the person arguing and their status, than the actual matter of the discussion.  On the other hand, Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai, the intellectual descendants of the Mishnah sages Hillel and Shammai, argued not over their own status, but about the points of the law.  In general, Beit Shammai was more restrictive, and Beit Hillel was more lenient.  Though their disagreements resulted in serious practice differences, the Talmud also states that, despite that, the children of Beit Hillel still married the children of Beit Shammai, and vice versa.

In today’s Jewish world, that is no small matter.  Orthodox Jews, who do not believe that Reform, and even Conservative practice, is valid under their interpretation of Jewish law, especially those of conversion and Jewish identity, often will not allow such marriages - doubting the Jewishness of the non-Orthodox partner.

In our Jewish community, we cannot afford such divisions.  This current debate about the Iran agreement, which, I believe, springs from divisions in support of Israel, must be a dispute for the sake of heaven.  Whether one believes that any Jew must support the state of Israel no matter what, or that one may publicly disagree with Israeli policy, these beliefs spring from a passionate concern and care for the state of Israel, not a lack thereof.  Jews on either side of the debate must agree not only to figuratively allow their children to intermarry, but to, in reality, live together and share the same communal space.  The same goes for political disagreements of all stripes.  A more modern construction might be - And, despite their differences, those of the house of Hillel and the house of Shammai, still did not de-friend each other on Facebook.

For the New Year, let us resolve to remember that each of us are created b’tzelem elohim - with a piece of the Divine in us.  That piece of the Divine is what calls us to our better selves.  We may follow a different political path; we may be persuaded by a different interpretation of the “facts”, but in all cases, we are equally gifted with humanity.  We cannot discount others as idiots, dupes, knee-jerk reactors, or such.  If we truly believe that our arguments are for the sake of heaven -  that we are trying, each in our own understanding to make the world a better place for all, then we must acknowledge that we live in a world with people who have different understandings, and that they are entitled to their opinions as well.  We do not have to agree with each other’s ideas.  We do have to agree in each other’s humanity.  If we can keep that in mind - truly love our neighbors as ourselves - then our arguments will be for the sake of heaven, and we can maintain hope in reaching that heaven here on earth.

L’shanah tovah tikateivu - let’s write ourselves for a good New Year.

Rabbi Abraham

Now What? - Summer 2015

Rabbi’s Report to the Congregation

7 June 2015 - Shabbat Sh’lach L’cha 5775

In this week’s Torah portion, Sh’lach L’cha, we value the minority report.  In the narrative, God has decided that our ancestors were ready to conquer the Promised Land.  God authorized Moses to send out a representative of each tribe as scouts to report back on what they might find.  Although all agree that the land is flowing with milk and honey, ten report back that the inhabitants are giants and will be impossible to overcome.  Two scouts - Joshua and Caleb - report that they believe it will be possible. The people, however, despair, and God decides that they will need to wait until the next generation to finish their wanderings.  The people change their minds, but it is too late.

It may seem like it took a generation to relocate our congregation from Plainfield to our new home in Scotch Plains , but it was only eleven years.  Certainly, that was a generational change in our congregation - a decade of b’nei mitzvah, of confirmands, of members who never knew the building in Plainfield and thought things in the Fanwood Presbyterian Church were just fine enough.  But, perhaps in the minority, we still have those members of the congregation who met with us in Plainfield at a meeting similar to this, and voted to sell our then home, and risk everything on a move to a new Promised Land.

In a sense, there is nothing to report this year - no important votes about land purchase or mortgage, no Bonim appeal (although we still do need donations to retire our second mortgage and make a dent in the first), no promises that “next year, really, we will be in our new building”.  Next year, God willing, we will still be in this building, our “old” building.  Last year, I tried to avoid the metaphor of Moses on Mount Nebo, when God shows him the land that the Israelites will inherit, but also tells him he will not be able to enter.  That is where the Torah ends - then we cycle back to creation and begin again.  The conquest of the land, the fulfillment of God’s promise is carried out in the book of Joshua, in the Prophets.  We do not read this book every year, so who even knows what the end of the book of Joshua is?

I am happy to share that with you.  At the end of the book of Joshua, after the people cross the Jordan on dry land, shatter the walls of Jericho and inherit the Promised Land, Joshua gathers them together and says, basically, this is the point.  All of the exciting stories that led up to this day are not what it was all about, that was the journey to bring us here, where we are now expected to live together and fulfill our part of the covenant with God.

So, this is our challenge, for the upcoming first full year in our new building.  Less and less people will enter and say, “Wow, this is such a lovely new building”, because it will no longer be their first time here.  Everyone who came in for a service or an event, will be returning - not to satisfy their curiosity in our new building, but because what they experienced here was compelling and made them want to return.  Our job is not to bask in the creation that we have made, but to dig in and use this new home to its maximum capacity.  Weekday nights, there are Temple meetings, and Judaic classes, and yoga, and outside groups, and improv classes, and activities we never had space for before - but there is still more room.  Sundays were are often overflowing.  This building - our home - is the center of our community - bring in what you want to do, inside our walls, and let us fill this place with shared purpose, with joy, with social interaction, with food, and with people.

Of the twelve scouts, ten were pessimistic; two were not.  Each one of us can find someone else to share our optimism and make this building our Promised Land for that specific purpose that burns within in you and needs to be expressed in our Temple home.  Do you want to house the homeless?  Do you want to learn Hebrew?  Do you want to knit clothing or blankets for those in need?  Do you want to create and share your art?  Do you want to make music together?  Worship together?  Or even just sit together and watch a movie?  This is your home - your living room, your kitchen, your den, your classroom, and your sanctuary.  It will flow with the milk and honey of Judaism, as long as you help to tend it.

This past year, our community has lost a few of those who have tended to it in the past.  Ruth Rutenberg was an active member of the Temple and passionate about publicizing our adult learning opportunities.  Her husband Mort created a fund for that education in her memory.  Mort, a past president and ever present voice of reason and forethought, the perennial think tank of Temple Sholom, was memorialized by his son Joel asking what he could give to provide for the most urgent need of the congregation - and our new kitchen is a testament to that care.  Paul Aron was a dedicated member of our Social Action Committee.  Mildred Taylor was a regular attendee of almost every Temple event, a supporter of Women on Our Own and the Sisterhood.  Barbara Halberstadter gave most of her time to the Jewish Family Service, but also found a home here at Temple Sholom.  Blanche Saltzman came to enjoy the home that her son Steven helped to nurture and build, and was glad to find a home here as well.

We celebrated new members this past year - and marked the weddings of Dana and Darren Lav, and Raphael and Rebecca Kasen.  Maya Yael Friedman did her part not only to grow the family of Jake, Julie and Lily Friedman, but the Temple Sholom family as well.

We have much to celebrate in our 102nd year - a centennial of Confirmation, a new home, new families, new members, new programs - but the core remains the same.  Each year at this time, we peer into our Jewish future and imagine the Promised Land that we can create, and we look on the optimistic side - we move forward on our journey, and we send ourselves into that future.

As Moses said to Joshua - Chazak v’ameitz - strength and courage.

Next Year Where? - April 2015

Bashanah haba’ah b’yirushalayim

Next year in Jerusalem - traditional last line of the Haggadah

This year, as every year, all those who go back to the haggadah after the meal will end with the traditional “Next Year in Jerusalem”.  The Reform Baskin Haggadah, which we use at our congregational seder, also adds, “Next year may all be free.”  For Jews throughout the ages, the end of the Exodus, which we commemorate on Passover, is the arrival in the Promised Land.  Yet, very few of us actually end of fulfilling the dream of our seders and find ourselves in Israel in the following year.

I would like to suggest a few ways that we can bring that dream a little closer:

1. Travel to Israel - Two and a half years ago, we had our first successful Temple Sholom trip in many years.  This past summer, we put together a trip, but had to combine with another congregation to send our members.  Israel is a place to experience at least once in your life. It is a place to experience with family; a place to experience with your Temple community.  We have set up our previous trips in the summer, so that we can find ten days for families with school age children to travel.  Our next scheduled trip will be in summer 2016.  If you are interested in coming on a Temple Sholom trip then, or have a group who would like to travel at another time, just let us know.

2. Help make the real Israel more like our ideal Israel - Too often, we tune out the news about Israel.  The conflict, the difficulty of having to face the realities of two populations in one land, the fear of being shouted down by friends, all make Israel a much avoided topic of conversation.  Still, it is the Jewish State and, as Jews, we are not only tied to our homeland, but we bear a responsibility for what happens there.  We do have a voice in Israel’s government - the World Zionist Congress is the place where we Diaspora Jews can have our say.  You can vote by computer until the end of this month.  https://www.reformjews4israel.org/ takes you to the ARZA (Association of Reform Zionists of America) voting site.  You can vote for ARZA’s Progressive slate, or find information about any of the other parties.  If you want a voice in Israel, you need to vote.  (There is a $10 charge for voting.)

3. Work for freedom - American Jewish World Service works for freedom overseas (http://ajws.org/).  There are many ways that we, as American citizens, can work to protect, preserve, and extend freedom in our own country as well.  Freedom is not just the opposite of slavery.  True freedom is the ability to make the same choices as anyone else in society.  We work for freedom when we give a hand up to those who are deprived; when we stand up for the rights of others; when we refuse to be silent when others are maligned.  We are told in the Torah to tell the story of the Exodus from Egypt as if we ourselves were slaves.  The point is not to suffer ourselves, but to be able to see the story of those who are still in chains.

Pesach celebrates the greatest moment in our history that was done to us: We were freed from Egypt.  Over the next seven weeks, we march to the greatest moment that we made ourselves.  On Shavuot, we once again stand at the base of Mount Sinai and enter into covenant with God.  That covenant puts us in partnership with God to fulfill the promise of creation.  Let that be our Jerusalem and let us find ourselves closer to that goal, each and every year.

Chag sameach,

Rabbi Abraham

No Barriers, No Stumbling Blocks- February 2015

Lo t’kaleil cheresh; v’lifnei iver, lo titein mikshol.

Do not curse the deaf; nor put a stumbling block before the blind. - Lev. 19:14

February is Jewish Disability Awareness Month and our Temple’s Inclusion Committee, led by Jill Harris, has planned varied activities - including speakers at Friday evening services, celebrating Shabbat Shalem,  an in-service for our teaching staff, and completing our application to become the first MetroWest Able Awarded congregation in Union County.  In January, the Board of Trustees passed the following wording to be added to our webpage and publicity - Temple Sholom strives to be an inclusive and accessible synagogue, welcoming to all who wish to meaningfully participate in our Jewish community.

Of course, the commemoration of Jewish Disability Awareness Month does not mean we ignore those with different needs the rest of the year, but rather re-dedicate ourselves to making our congregation and community accessible to everyone.  One of the joys of giving tours of our new building is showing how we have put the idea of being a no-barrier synagogue into practice.  In addition to having ADA required handicapped accessible bathrooms and our audio assistance loop, the entire building is one floor, with no steps inside.  Moveable chairs mean that people in wheelchairs can sit anywhere in the sanctuary.  Our doors are wide-open - and wide-opening.

In the Holiness Code, which we read on the afternoon of Yom Kippur, quoted above, we are commanded not to curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling block before the blind.  The simple meaning of this last phrase is that we should not take advantage of someone’s disability.  The blind cannot see what we might put in front of them.  The first part of the phrase takes us farther.  The deaf cannot hear us when we curse them, but they do not hear our curse either.  Hence we are taught not to mock someone’s disability, even if they cannot know we are doing it.  I would argue, however, that the force of this verse goes even further.  It is not sufficient to not behave badly to those who may be differently abled.  Rather, we are challenged to give them the fairness that is available to everyone else  We must help the blind to see, and the deaf to hear, if not literally, then by providing the accommodations that enable them to function in a world that is geared toward people with those abilities.

How, the, as a congregation, can we accomplish this task?  We must exercise our empathy to imagine what might be a stumbling block to others, and remove it before they can trip.  Rabbi Neal Gold once told me about a conversation with a colleague who said that his congregation had never needed an interpreter for the deaf to translate services, as no deaf people ever came to services.  His response was, “Of course.”  Why should people assume that we can accommodate them, if we have not let them know that we can and will do so?

For many years, we have worked to build our Religious School’s reputation as a place that welcomes all students, no matter what their needs or abilities.  All we ask is that you bring a willingness to be a part of our community and to learn about Judaism.  We have welcomed many families - but there may be many more, looking for a Jewish home, who have not yet found us.  There is a stumbling block in the way.  Each of us, as members of this community, need to find those stumbling blocks and remove them; clear the path to our doorway; and welcome everyone inside - not just in February, but every day of the year.  If you know of any person or family who is looking for a Jewish home, but does not think there is a place for them - let us know and we will find a way to remove those barriers.