Rosh Hashanah Sermon: Open Doors, Open Hands, Open Hearts

It was the Tiki Torches.  Those Tiki Torches signified that everything had changed.  The news coming out of Charlottesville was horrific.  The violence, the bigotry, the brazenness of the protesters was deeply troubling.  I couldn’t believe that this was America in 2017.  In the past, the protesters would have worn hoods; they would have gathered in the darkness of night.  Here they were, marching proudly in the midday sun, yelling, “Blood and Soil,” “Jews will not replace us.”  The Tiki torches looked almost medieval; a nod to the past, to the Third Reich and to “Pitchforks and Torches” – vehicles used to scare us and put us in our place.

Charlottesville shook me to the core.[i]  There always was and will always be bigotry.  Anti-Semitism, racism, hatred of all kind, has been a part of our country’s dark history since our very founding.  Yet, this moment just feels different.  This year just feels different. 

So let us be unequivocal.  We firmly deplore these and any acts of anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, racism, or bigotry.  We stand firmly with our interfaith allies.  We will always speak out against hatred of any kind.  We deplore all who were ambiguous in their condemnation of these acts.  There is right and there is wrong.  We stand together and when there is no moral voice, we will be that moral voice.

Yet, I keep coming back to the Tiki Torches.  Last night, I began these High Holy Days with a story of how each of us must be a light.  We need you to light up a corner of our synagogue and a corner of our world.  The Tiki Torches were used to bring light.  They were there to scare us, frighten us, shock us.  We will not be scared.  We will not be frightened.  Instead, I urge us to reclaim the torch, to reclaim the light.[ii]  We will transform fear into hope.  We will transform hatred into love.

The bigots and the White Supremacists entire wish is to extinguish Judaism; to eradicate our proud religion.  And our response will be: to create a proud and vibrant Jewish future.  Today, I’d like to share with you my vision for the future of Bolton Street Synagogue.  How will we transform our synagogue.  How will we journey forward together.  How will we build upon our past and create a proud and vibrant community.

Open Doors

Long ago, there was a question about why Saul, than an ordinary man, merited the great honor of being named King of Israel.  In a wonderful midrash,[iii] a parable, the rabbis share that Saul was chosen as King of Israel because of the merit of his grandfather, a man known as Ner (meaning lamp).  What did Saul’s grandfather, Ner, do?  Ner lit lamps for the public.  There were always dark alleyways between people’s homes and the Beit Midrash, the House of Study.  In the darkness of night, without a torch guiding the way, many didn’t come to the synagogue to study, pray, or gather together.  It was too frightening and there were too many barriers to venture out into the darkness of the night.  Ner lit lamps to banish darkness.  The torches allowed all to be together.

This leads us to the first aspect of community, which I’d like to call: Open Doors.  Bolton Street has always been a community that is known for its openness.  It doesn’t matter our age, our sexuality, our skin color, our background, how we define family, or even our religion.  All are welcome to enter these doors. 

Yet, we know that we can always do better.  Open Doors means everyone feels welcome.  What about the new guest that fails to be welcomed?  What about the person who sits alone waiting for an invitation?  What about the visible and invisible barriers that prevents those from joining us, engaging fully in Jewish life?  Open Doors means we do our best to knock down all obstacles that drive us apart and create new pathways to bring us together.

Open Hands

A man[iv] was travelling from place to place when he saw a castle aglow in flames.  The man said, “Is it possible that this castle lacks a person to look after it?  Who will put out the fire?”  The owner of the building looked out and said, “I am the owner of the castle.”  Similarly, Abraham, looked out at the world and said, “Is it possible that this castle, our world, has no one to look after it?”  And God said, “I am the Master of the Universe, and he replied to Abraham, “Lech Lecha… Go forth…”

In this Midrash, a man sees a castle ablaze and searches for the owner, in order to extinguish the fire.  And Abraham, the first Jew, looks out at the world on fire and asks, “Who is responsible for all of this?”  And God answers: “From your question, I know that you are the one!  Lech Lecha, go forth, for it is now your responsibility to care for my world.”

That is the essence of what it means to be a Jew, of what it means to be a part of the Jewish community.  It’s what I’d like to call Open Hands.  Our responsibility is to reach out to those in need.  Whether we call this Tikkun Olam (Healing of the World), Tzedakah (Charity), Social Action, or Gemilut Chasadim (Acts of Loving Kindness), our first responsibility is to care for and heal the world.

The man looked out and saw a palace on fire.  He didn’t wait until his house was burning down in order to act.  No, he first reaches out to help those in distress.  That is our foremost responsibility as a synagogue community.  We are guided by the Jewish past.  We are reminded that we were slaves in Egypt; that we encountered hostility and bigotry; that we were the downtrodden, the stranger, and the less than human.  Yet, we don’t turn our backs to the world.  We reach across faith lines to assist all who are in need.  Our past guides us; as the prophets remind us, we must open our hands to all who struggle, all who are challenged, here and everywhere.

Open Hearts

Almost seventy years ago, the German and Austrian Jewish Community was devastated during Kristallnacht, the night of broken glass.  On that fateful evening, thousands of synagogues, Jewish businesses, and homes were destroyed!  Arsonists burned down buildings, while windows were broken.  Shards of glass were everywhere.  The Jewish community laid in ruin just as the Holocaust was about to begin.

One young man, Walter Schwarz, lived through this horrible ordeal.  In the aftermath of Kristallnacht, Walter swore that if he survived, he would one day learn to rebuild the shards of glass into something beautiful.  What was broken, would one day become whole.

Walter survived and Baltimore became his new home.  He became a founding member of our congregation and fulfilled his long promised vow.  Well into his 70’s, Walter learned how to make stained glass windows at the JCC; he had never worked with stained glass before.  He took pieces of broken glass and created the breathtaking stained glass window that was located in Bolton Hill and now sits prominently in our lobby.  The window serves as a reminder of where we came from and a symbol of our past.  A Jewish star remembers the 6 million while the 10 commandments proudly recognizes the essence of who we are as a Jewish community.  As sunlight shines forth, a spectrum of colors shines down upon our lobby.

The stained glass window and Walter’s story symbolizes the third aspect of community: Open Hearts.  Walter took something which was broken and helped build something new and vibrant.  As we begin the next chapter of Bolton Street Synagogue, what do we wish to build, together?  How will we maintain our progressive Jewish values, yet not lose our vibrant Jewish past?  How will we keep tradition alive, but also change with the times?  How will we define “Jewish community” when many of our members and loved ones aren’t Jewish?  Open Hearts mean that we open ourselves to the diversity that is our community, yet continue to delve down the path of modernity and tradition.

Another aspect of Open Hearts means strengthening our relationship with each other.  Jewish community has always been built upon a brit, a covenant.  A brit means that we have responsibility for each other.  That we look out for each other, embrace each other, care for each other.  Part of creating a brit, a covenant with one another, means opening our hearts to each other’s strengths, but also each other’s weaknesses.  Open Hearts means being forgiving and empathetic.  We must recognize that all of us make mistakes, none of us is perfect.  Let us open our hearts to our entire persona and to our entire community.

As a rabbi, I’ve been blessed to serve many communities, from the tiny chavurah to the largest synagogue.  I love being a rabbi.  I love leading services, teaching Torah, guiding young and old, leading my community.  Yet, I’ve always searched for something more; yearned for a community that truly felt like home.  This past winter, when Brian, Caleb, and I visited Bolton Street for the first time, we knew we were home.  We felt warmth and love permeating everywhere.  We loved the dedication to tradition and the willingness to think differently.  We saw the stewards of the past and the builders of the future.  Brian and I wished to find a community that we’d join even if I wasn’t the rabbi; a place where Caleb would grow up and feel loved and supported.  We found it, here, at Bolton Street.

As your rabbi, I promise to be by your side, to guide you, and nourish your souls.  I promise to teach, but also to learn; to lead, but also to listen.  I promise that I’ll push us forward, but always remember our past.  I will be there for you, but I need you to be there for me too.  I need you to support me and guide me on this new endeavor, together.

On the start of this New Year, I ask you again to roll up your sleeves.  I ask you: come to services, attend a class, volunteer around the synagogue, give back to the community.  I ask you: share your passion, give of yourself, meet me, and join with old faces and meet new faces too.  In this New Year, we will respond to hatred and violence by building upon our proud past and creating a vibrant Jewish future.  May we open our doors, open our hands, and open our hearts.  Together, we will transform our world, transform our synagogue, and most importantly transform our lives.  Ken Yehi Ratzon, May it be so.  Amen v’Amen.

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[i] Much appreciation to the Central Conference of American Rabbis (CCAR) for its webinar “Post Charlottesville from the Pulpit.”  Thank you to Rabbi Amy Schwartzman, Rabbi Mari Chernow, and Rabbi David Stern for their thoughts and reflections as I prepared for this sermon.

[ii] Gratitude to Rabbi Adam Allenberg for his commentary and thoughts about Charlottesville in the HUC-JIR Podcast “Bully Pulpit” collegecommons.huc.edu/bully_pulpit/charlottesville_huc/

[iii] Leviticus Rabbah 9:2

[iv] Genesis Rabbah 39:1.  Many thanks to Rabbi Dvora Weisberg for her thoughts in the HUC-JIR Podcast “Bully Pulpit.”

Erev Rosh Hashanah Sermon: A Hundred Lights Shining in the Darkness

I've always loved the High Holy Days.  As a kid, when the rabbi began his sermon, my friends would go outside to play in the coatroom or run down the hallway.  I’d be inside the sanctuary listening intently to the rabbi's words (or at least making a wager with my sister on how long the rabbi would talk)!  I loved singing Avinu Malkenu and hearing the blast of the shofar.  The High Holy Days were always a homecoming.  There’d be lots of kibitzing and showing off the latest outfit, but it was truly about being together, connecting with friends and family after a long summer.

As we welcome the New Year 5778, I’m thrilled to welcome you back home!  As you probably know, this is my first High Holy Days at Bolton Street Synagogue!.  From the first time I visited Bolton Street back in December, I’ve had this date circled on my calendar.  I couldn’t wait to lead Erev Rosh Hashanah service outdoors in the meadow; and here we are!  Whether you are a first time visitor or a long time member, welcome home!

At my first service, back in early July, I shared a little bit about myself and my story.  I told you about my rabbi, Rabbi Garsek, who when I was only ten years old, saw something special in me.  As we studied together in my fifth grade classroom, Rabbi Garsek looked into my eyes and said, “Andy, you’ll be a great rabbi one day.”  I’m not sure what he saw in me.  I wasn’t the loudest, the cleverest, or the most gifted speaker.  Yet, my rabbi saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself.  And his words changed my life. 

Rabbi Garsek was a special man.  It was his menschleicheit: his kindness and caring nature that drew me towards him.  It was his love of Judaism and his big heart that propelled me to follow in his footsteps.  He encouraged me to become the person I am today; to become the rabbi who stands before you.

Rabbi Garsek taught me many lessons, but one of the crucial lessons I took with me was the centrality of COMMUNITY in Jewish life.  He believed that Judaism not only encourages, but demands that we form relationship during the peak moments in time.  When we pray, we join together with at least ten people (a minyan).  When we learn, we study with at least one other study partner (a chevrutah).  When we celebrate holidays, at least three should join together at the holiday table.  Judaism believes in the power of community.  We can’t make change alone; our lives, our synagogue, our world can only be transformed when we are in relationship, together.   

My sermons during these High Holy Days will focus on that theme of COMMUNITY: on our commitment to each other, on the importance of individual responsibility, and on our relationship with those outside our walls.  Tonight, I’d like to share a story that illustrates my vision for our beloved Bolton Street Synagogue.  This story expresses my hope for our future and describes who I am as a rabbi.  So, sit back, take a deep breath, and enjoy one of my favorite stories!

Many[i]  centuries ago, in a faraway little village, deep in the mountains, lived a wealthy man.  This man was getting on in years and began to reflect upon his legacy.  He had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams in regards to business, wealth, and success, yet something was missing.  He wished to give back to the community that supported him throughout his life, but what would be the proper gift?  After spending months reflecting upon his dilemma, the man realized that his community lacked a proper synagogue.  He and his fellow Jews would gather in someone’s house to pray, but they didn’t have the resources to build a fitting home for God.

And so, he decided to construct a beautiful synagogue.  His planning would be in secret.  No one would know.  He hired craftsmen and craftswomen from far away to build his masterpiece.  The construction of the building took many years – much longer than he anticipated.

Finally, the building was complete.  The rabbi and the man decided that the new synagogue would officially open its doors on Erev Rosh Hashanah.  The village was abuzz with excitement for the first service in the new building.  At 5:00pm, on the eve of the Jewish New Year, the doors of the synagogue were opened for the first time.  Hundreds of men and women, children and babies, young and old, rushed into the sanctuary.  They were awed by its magnificence.  It was truly the most beautiful synagogue anyone had ever laid eyes upon.  The wood of the bima glistened like gold; the Ark doors gleamed like rubies; the eternal light sparkled like diamonds; the menorah, stained glass, and Torah, were truly the most splendid in the world.  The congregants oohed and awed at the beauty that surrounded them.

Slowly the sun began to set.  As the sky became darker, the hubbub began to die down.  The excitement and the energy that pervaded the building seemed to vanish in an instant.  Everyone looked around the building with puzzled looks upon their faces.  Finally, a brave little girl approached the man.  “Excuse me, sir, there’s something missing!”  “Something missing!  What do you mean?” said the man.  “There’s a beautiful ark, a menorah, and a Torah scroll.  What possibly could be missing?!”  The girl looked up and pointed to the ceiling, “The lamps!  The lamps are missing!  There’s absolutely no lights in here!”

“Ah, yes,” said the man with a big smile upon his face.  “If you look around the sanctuary, there are brackets that cover the walls.  These brackets will hold up different lamps, one lamp for each person.  Tonight, you all will receive a lamp.  Each time you are here, the area where you are seated will be lit and will be filled with light.  But, each time you are not here, that area will be dark.  Part of the synagogue will be darkened.  Your community is relying on each of you to be the light.”

Tonight, on this eve of Rosh Hashanah, I’d like to remind you that you possess a light.  Your light guides you.  Your light shines out in the darkness.  Your light provides warmth and comfort to your loved ones, and especially to our community.

As a rabbi, I too possess a light.  My light teaches our history and our past.  My light guides and supports our community.  My light leads us forward into future.  Yet, my light is just one candle flickering in the night.  One candle is not enough to banish the darkness.  It takes hundreds of lights, sparkling together, to create a beacon in the darkness.

My vision of our beloved Bolton Street Synagogue is a community that comes together, supports each other, cares for each other, and depends upon each other.  Our synagogue must be a covenantal community, where we recognize and act on the needs, passions, hardships, and dreams of those that surround us.  We must know each other and work together to change our lives and our world for the better.

We each possess a light, yet we use our light in different ways.  Perhaps, the spirituality of services connects you to the Holy One.  Perhaps, studying our ancient texts helps connect you to our Jewish past.  Perhaps, gathering together for a celebration helps connect you to one another. Perhaps, reaching out to those in need, helps connect you to our broader society.  Whatever the case, we need each of you to be the light in order to banish the darkness.  Your community is relying on you to be the light.

Many years ago, my rabbi saw something in me.  At the time, I might not have been the loudest or the cleverest, but I had my strengths: I was kind, I was compassionate, I cared about my community and I understood that it wasn’t about one person; it was about all of us working together. It was hundreds of candles, coming together, shining ever brightly.

On this eve of the New Year, I call upon each of us.  Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to become a rabbi!  No, I’m asking you to be YOU.  I look into your eyes and I say to each of you, “You are great!  You are special!  You are unique!”  We need you.  We need your passion, your energy, your time, and your dedication.  I ask you to be a light: to volunteer, to pray, to gather, to learn, to teach. 

As we join together in song, volunteers will pass out a small candle to each of you.  When you receive your candle, turn it on.  This candle is my gift to you.  May it serve as a reminder of all you have to give; may you bring light, goodness, kindness, and joy into the world.  Amen v’Amen.  Shana Tova!   

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[i] This sermon is based upon a story entitled “The Nobleman’s Legacy.”  My story is adapted from many versions with a debt of gratitude to Rabbi Robin Nafshi for sharing this story with me.

This is Not Normal Times. We Must Unite Against Hatred.

I’m not sure about you, but these last few days have been the most depressing, discouraging, and upsetting of the past year.  It has been a year of lows, but this past week’s events in Charlottesville, were the most searing of all.

We watched as Neo-Nazis, White Supremacists, and avowed Racists marched openly in army fatigues, carrying torches and semi-automatic weapons.  We saw Heather Heyer, a young woman who cared deeply about others, murdered while marching for justice.  We lost two Virginia State Police officers, H. Jay Cullen and Berke Bates and many others injured in the attacks.

The scene was vicious and the remarks by our president were bewildering, utterly lacking clarity, and horribly damaging to the future of our country.  Yet, it was words by another man, an ordinary man, that truly moved me and made me reflect upon the horrors of this last weekend.

AlanZimmerman, is the synagogue president of Congregation Beth Israel, the Reform and I believe the only synagogue in Charlottesville, Virginia.  I apologize if you already read his words which were shared widely, but it bares repeating.

The congregation knew for weeks that a protest would occur this past weekend in Charlottesville.  Yet, the police refused to provide them with an officer during services.  Luckily, they were able to hire a security guard, for the first time in their existence.  During the service, three men dressed in fatigues and armed with semi-automatic rifles stood across from the street.  Parades of Nazis passed his building, shouting, “There’s the synagogue!” with chants of “Seig Heil!” and other anti-Semitic language alongside swastikas and other Nazi symbols. 

Alan’s heart broke as he advised congregants to use the back entrance instead of the front and to please go out in groups, for their safety.

Later that day, Nazi websites posted a call to burn his synagogue.  He and one of his rabbis wondered, “Should we go back to the temple to protect the building?” What could they do if they were there?  In precaution, they had already deemed an attack within the realm of possibilities and had removed their Torahs, including a Holocaust scroll from the premises.

Throughout his poetic and haunting article, Alan kept coming back to the same phrase:  “This is America in 2017.” 

As a Jew growing up in Ohio, I experienced small amounts of anti-Semitism.  Jokes and pokes by so-called friends or others.  Yet, I always believed that the Jewish community went overboard on calling out everything as anti-Semitism.  It was our “sheep calling wolf” moment.  Yet, this moment is not the years of my youth.  This is not normal times.  This is 2017 in America.

Our Torah portion, Re’eh, speaks about this issue directly.  The Torah describes the existence of false prophets.  These are individuals (and groups of individuals) who will lead us down the wrong path, who will turn us away from our morality and ethical behavior.  They are powerful because of their charisma.  They have power because of their many followers and of their message which deeply impacts people’s thinking.  Yet, we know that they are false prophets; they will lead us astray.

What should be our answer in combating these false prophets?  The Torah provides one line, one answer:  “You shall walk after Adonai your God and fear God.  You shall keep God’s commandments and obey God’s voice, serve God, and cleave to God" (Deuteronomy 13:5).

This doesn’t seem like a powerful response.  When there is a false prophet, when there are those who actively seek to hurt us or destroy our very being, our answer is to walk after Adonai and keep God’s commandments?  It seems too passive, too meek.

Yet, yesterday, a rabbinic colleague, Rabbi Alex Kress, shared an incredible gem written by Rabbi Avraham Mordechai of Gur, a Chasidic rebbe from the turn of the last century.   The Gerrer Rebbe teaches that this phrase, “You shall walk after Adonai, fear God, keep the commandments” appeared previously in last week’s Torah portion.  Last week, the statement was singular.  When you, each of you, walk with God…  Yet, this week’s phrase in the plural, “When all of you walk…”

The Gerrer Rebbe teaches that in normal times, each person can be God-fearing alone in our own homes.  We don’t need each other; we can do it by ourselves.   Yet, (And these are his words), yet, when heresy and anarchy prevail in the world, the power of the individual is insignificant, and there is need for good people to combine, to form a mighty force, which will defend against our detractors. 

When the Torah speaks about the false prophets, it is writen not in the singular but in the plural.  When they (and they are always a they), when they come together, we are insignificant by ourselves.  We must unite together against those who wish to destroy us.

This is not normal times.  This is America in 2017.  We can’t do it alone, we are insignificant.  We must do it together.

And together we will.  These were some of the brightest moments of last weekend:  It was John Aguilar, a 30 year Navy veteran, who took it upon himself to stand guard over the Charlottesville synagogue.  It was dozens of strangers who stopped by the synagogue and asked if they could stand alongside them. It was their wonderful rabbis who stood on the front lines with other Charlottesville clergy opposing hate.

This is not normal times.  This is America in 2017.  We can’t do it alone, we are insignificant.  We must do it together.

And so we will.  On Monday August 28^th, I alongside others from Bolton Street will caravan down to Washington for the 1,000 Ministers March on Racial Injustice (it’s not just for rabbis!).  Alongside the interfaith community and the Religious Action Center for Reform Judaism, I and others will march.  If you are able, please join me!

We will reach out to our interfaith allies.  We will continue to work on justice issues around education, racism, and anti-Semitism.  Our Social Action Committee is gearing up and we need your help.  Let us know if you wish to help.

And I urge you to make donations of tzedakah to Jewish and non-Jewish organizations that are working for justice.  We need people and dollars, to make systematic change.

In a few days, the Solar Eclipse will occur on the shores of our country, for the first time in many years.  There will be darkness across our country, yet only for a few minutes.  The sun will shine again; the rays of light will be a beacon to us all.  This is now a time of darkness, yet together, we can bring light into our world.  One candle at a time will bridge the darkness towards light.  Together, our light will shine.  Amen.

Thoughts About Charlottesville

For millennia, Jewish tradition has taught of the dangers of hatred and violence.   The rabbis explained clearly that the Second Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed because of baseless hatred.   We learn that when one group hates another without cause, it can lead to the destruction of societal cohesion. 

In recent days, we’ve watched the breakdown of our own society.  Who would think that the actions perpetuated by white supremacists in Charlottesville could occur in the year 2017?  We watched in horror as Neo-Nazis and Fear Mongers marched openly carrying torches and machine guns.  We heard the news about the young woman murdered in a terrorist attack and read the accounts of those in the local Jewish community who feared for their safety.  Racism, bigotry, and anti-Semitism are still very much alive in our day.  Like the rabbis of old, we cannot stand idly by as hatred and violence occurs in our midst.  We must join together with the broader community to seek out justice and love.

The Reform Movement and the Religious Action Center put out statements over the last few days about the terrible violence that occurred this weekend.  I urge you to read more here and here   And a very brave synagogue president of theCharlottesville synagogue shared his thoughts about how his community dealt with the devastation.

In a few weeks many will gather in Washington, DC for the 1,000 Minister March on Washington.  I alongside a few from Bolton Street Synagogue will be travelling down to Washington to join together with the Jewish community and our interfaith allies (it’s not just for rabbis!). To learn more and to register ReligiousAction Center.

Join the Reform Movement in sharing photos on social media with the hashtag #BeTheLightForJustice.  It might be a small act, but it does have the potential to ease our pain.  Please share a picture of yourself holding a candle to help spread the light.

Finally, please consider to make a donation of tzedakah.  There are a plethora of Jewish organizations including the Religious Action Center, the ADL, T’ruah, or others who work deeply with the Interfaith Community to combat racism, hatred, and anti-Semitism.  Our donations can help begin to build a world of wholeness and peace.

Soon Elul will be upon us.  The month prior to the High Holy Days begins the process of looking inwards and seeking the change of behavior we wish for ourselves in the year ahead.  May these days of Elul help us and our country begin to turn towards t’shuvah, towards renewal and transformative change.

L’shalom,

Rabbi Andy Gordon

Saying Shalom...

This past Friday evening, was my first service at Bolton Street Synagogue in Baltimore, MD as the new rabbi.  This lovely congregation in the heart of Baltimore City is my new congregational home!  The words below are adapted from my first sermon.  This was my opportunity to say Shalom... to introduce myself and my vision!  Lech Lecha, may we go forth to ever greater strength... together!

Shabbat Shalom!  I’m sure there are a ton of thoughts going through your head right now...  Who’s this new Rabbi?  What’s his story?  What’s he like?  And what about Bolton Street Synagogue?  Is the congregation going to change?  Will it be different?  Will I not feel at home anymore?  But really… who is this new rabbi?

Believe me change and transition are hard!  Tonight, we begin anew.  A new rabbi for you, a new congregation for me!  As I thought about this first sermon, it thought about what I wanted to share with you.  About my vision, about my hopes, and about me!  My rabbinate and my life revolve around relationship and stories.  So what better way to start than to share some stories.  About the moments that impacted me and more importantly changed my rabbinate.  So here we go!

Picture it, a classroom of fifth grade students!  About a dozen students.  In front of you is a rabbi.  Not me, I’m only in fifth grade!  It’s Rabbi Ed Garsek, one of my rabbis.  He was teaching my class that day and we were studying Torah.  I’m not sure what I said or even what I did, but I do remember Rabbi Garsek’s response.  He looked directly into my eyes and he said to me: “You’ll be a great rabbi one day.”  And those words changed my life.

Rabbi Garsek saw something in me.  A spark and he pulled it out of me.  From that day, I wanted to be just like him: a teacher, a friend, a mentsch.  My rabbinate is based upon the lessons he taught me.  To live Judaism.  To guide others.  To truly know a person, their thoughts, their passions, their fears, and help them live a better life.  My rabbinate is built upon transformative moments.  It’s these small moments, face-to-face, that transform not only our lives, but the lives of our community, and the greater world.

About ten years later, I’m now a college graduate.  I’m living in Boston, working in the Jewish community.  And I’m searching, searching for a spiritual home.  A couple friends and I shul shop.  Each Friday evening, we travel to a new synagogue to experience worship and look for a community.  Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Renewal, Non-Denominational.  We try it all… yet nothing sticks.  Nothing feels right. 

That’s when we decided to create our own service.  We called ourselves the Minyanaires and over the course of a year, twice a month, we joined together for services and a potluck dinner.  It was informal, it was filled with singing, and it was brimming full of community.  I knew everyone there, a dozen of us, or so.  We prayed, we studied Torah, and we ate!  Since that day, I’ve never found a community that felt the same as that one.  I’ve been searching for that community.  A place to call home, a place where others feel comfortable.  A spiritual community that is built on relationship, where we study, grapple, learn, pray, eat, and join hands to change the world.

Now move ahead with me.  I decided to follow Rabbi Garsek’s advice and I enrolled in the Hebrew Union College, the Reform Rabbinical School.  I spent five years in Israel and New York City.  My student congregations were in Rocky Mount, NC; Williamsport, PA; Mount Sinai Hospital in the Palliative Care Unit.  I was ordained as a rabbi and became the first Assistant Rabbi at Scarsdale Synagogue.  Later, I moved to Long Island to become an Associate Rabbi at Temple Sinai of Roslyn. 

I love being a rabbi.  I loved teaching, lifecycles, hanging out with the kids, and studying with adults.  But, there was one moment in my rabbinate that changed my life.  It all began through an e-mail.  A rabbinic friend and colleague from Chicago, Rabbi Seth Limmer, asked if I would join him for a 40 day march from Selma Alabama to Washington DC.  This was a march coordinated by the NAACP during the summer of 2015.  This was Black Lives Matter.  This was Police Shootings.  Ferguson.  NYC.  Baltimore.  This was about justice and making our world a better place.   It would be a 40 day journey, a walk across the south.  And they needed a rabbi each day to carry the Torah.  I would travel for one day, but the Torah would travel all forty.

And so, there I was, in the deep south, a small town in Georgia about 2 hours from Atlanta.  It was powerful to march and carry the Torah, but even more importantly was the relationships.  Hearing the stories of my fellow African-American marchers.  Learning about the injustice, the fear they had for their kids, the challenges they went through.  This was about making a different.  Praying with our feet.  Our world was in turmoil and my role, our role, is to make a difference.  To do our part with the interfaith community, to change our world for the better.

These three stories are just small moments in my life and my rabbinate.  There are plenty of others, but these three express who I am and my vision of Jewish life and of Bolton Street Synagogue.  That vision is to create sacred connections through study, prayer and tikkun olam, in order to bring about transformative change in our lives and our world.  Transformative change is the key.  And that only exists through relationship.  We must know one another, be comfortable with one another, and trust one another.

We build sacred connection through study.  We learn Torah because these ancient words impact our lives for the better.  But more importantly, we learn from one another because each of us has Torah to teach.

We build sacred connection through prayer.  There is power when we pray together, sing together, and join together face-to-face.  It’s how we recharge, how we hope, how we dream of the future.

We build sacred connection through tikkun olam.  When we join hand-in-hand, we have the ability to transform hearts, advocate for change, and rebuild a broken world.

You’ve already learned a little bit about me.  I’m excited to learn more about you.  Together, through study, prayer, and tikkun olam, we’ll build stronger relationships.  Yet, these Jewish actions must do something more, they must transform us into better people, a better community, and a better world.  I’m looking forward to doing that with you for a long time to come!

Saying Goodbye...

After five wonderful years, this evening, I said my final goodbye to Temple Sinai of Roslyn.  This was my last Friday evening service with this wonderful congregation.  As I travel forth to Bolton Street Synagogue in Baltimore, I can't thank everyone in the congregation enough for all of their support and love.  As we say in Judaism, l'hitraot, not goodbye, but see you soon!

I’m not sure if you know this… but, I don’t like long goodbyes!  Now, most of you know me.  You know that I love to schmooze. I love to meet people.  I love to talk and hear about what’s happening in our lives.  But … when the party’s over, the check’s been paid, the final bow has been taken, I like the quick kiss, hug, and a very quick “goodbye.”

That’s not the JEWISH goodbye.  We Jews have to say goodbye to everyone!  There’s so much hugs and kisses happening!  And once we’re ready to leave, we have to do it all over again.

So… you can imagine that this month has been a little bit challenging.  There have been so many goodbyes and celebrations, lunches, dinners, and brunches as I prepare to become the next rabbi at Bolton Street Synagogue in Baltimore, MD.  It has been truly incredible, heartwarming, amazing, and overwhelming.

When I began rabbinical school, I dreamed about what my impact would be.  Would I be a good teacher?  Would I be a comforting presence?  Could I help guide those who were looking for substance, meaning, and spirituality?  What I’ve learned from all of you is that I’ve fulfilled my wildest dreams.  I’ve put my heart and soul into my rabbinate… and I’ve been utterly grateful to learn that it’s been appreciated.  Thank you for your thank yous and your goodbyes.  It’s been an incredible gift to me as a person and as a rabbi.

As I conclude my final Shabbat service at Temple Sinai.  I thought deep and hard about what this final goodbye would look like.  What words did I wish to share with you all?  I wanted these words to have substance.  To explain my role as your teacher and your role as MY teacher.  And I decided the only fitting words were those from the Kaddish d’Rabbanan.

You’ve heard Kaddish.  The Chatzi Kaddish, the Mourners Kaddish.  But Kaddish D’Rabbanan is a unique Kaddish.  It’s pretty much unknown and unfamiliar to many of us.  It’s words are situated towards the very beginning of the morning service.  Must traditional Jews aren’t yet at synagogue when this prayer begins (they filter in a little bit later) and most Reform synagogues don’t often recite this prayer due to time constraints.

Yet, there are a handful of other times when Kaddish D’Rabbanan is recited.  When a community has completed a book of study, a volume of the Talmud, or a major endeavor together, Kaddish D’Rabbanan is read.  It’s word are a conclusionary blessing.  A bridge from the place we’ve been to the place we’d like to travel to.  A bridge from the past to the future.

  

There’s a reason why these words are recited after the completion of study.  It’s this extra paragraph found in the middle of Kaddish D’Rabbanan.  It reads:

God of Heaven and Earth, grant abundant peace to our people Israel and their rabbis, to our teachers and their disciples, and to all who engage in the study of Torah here and everywhere.  Let there be for them and for us all, grace, love, and compassion, a full life, ample sustenance, and salvation from God, and let us respond: Amen.

These words are all about study.  About teachers and students.  About the completion of Torah and future Torah study.  And it’s a blessing for us all: compassion, love, life, sustenance.  What a better blessing, what a better Jewish goodbye than this?

Today, as I stand here, on this final Shabbat, I recognize that I have blessed to be your rabbi for five wonderful years.  And seated here today, are a group of congregants from Scarsdale Synagogue, where I was your rabbi for four wonderful years.  I’m deeply honored to have you all here.  You’ve all been my students and my teachers.  I’ve been blessed to comfort you, teach you, guide you, pray with you, study with you, and change the world with you.  We’ve completed so much Torah together.

And yet, there is much Torah to learn.  We might not learn Torah together each and every day going forward, but we’ll still learn from each other.  Whether it’s through e-mail or facebook or times together in person, we won’t be strangers, we won’t be apart. 

And, we will learn more Torah from new teachers and new students.  Part of the Jewish way is making sure we don’t go grow bored, we don’t grow stale.  It’s important to learn from new teachers to challenge us, inspire us, and push us to think differently.  In our congregations, we will continue to grow and learn and make our world a better place.

You know I don’t like long goodbyes.  And that’s why, in Judaism, we never officially say “goodbye.”  Instead, we say Shalom – meaning we’ll be saying Hello in the near future.  And we say l’hitraot, meaning, see you soon.  To my teachers and my students, Shalom, l’hitraot.  Blessings, kindness, and peace, until we see each other next.  Amen.

Thank You Temple Sinai of Roslyn

A few weeks ago, Temple Sinai of Roslyn, honored me for my five years of service as one of their rabbis.  It was a true honor and gift.  These were the words I shared in gratitude for all of their support!  It has been a true honor.  From strength to ever greater strength as I journey forth to Bolton Street Synagogue in Baltimore!

One of the greatest gifts, I’ve been given as a rabbi, is to be welcomed into your lives at moments of great holiness and intimacy.  I’ve been invited to sit alongside you at the hospital room, to listen and hopefully bring a little bit of comfort.  I’ve been honored, to stand alongside side you at a funeral or shiva minyan and hear the stories of your loved ones.  And, I’ve been overjoyed to officiate at B’nai Mitzvah, weddings, baby namings, and countless services, to see the mazel and happiness in your lives!

These sacred stops alongside the journey of life have become an incredible gift to me.  Over the last five years, you’ve constantly reminded me about what matters most: family, friendship, love, dedication, making an impact on the world.  You’ve invited me into your lives, and through that invitation, you’ve changed me for the better.

With all of these blessings, there is one moment, that occurs often, yet not too often, that for me is the pinnacle experience, the most holy and sacred moment of my rabbinate.  That is when I’m able to share words with you from the Birkat Cohenim, the priestly benediction. 

I’m sure you’ve heard these words, probably countless times.  At B’nai Mitzvah, weddings, baby namings, even the High Holy Days.  May God Bless You and Keep You.  May God’s face shine upon You and be Gracious to You, May God’s face be lifted upon you and grant you peace.

When I stand upon this bima or at a beach, or a catering hall, or your home, when I look at the face of a wedding couple, a young thirteen year old, a tiny baby, a congregation filled to the max, and recite these words, I feel a sense of great joy.  I watch your faces as I bless you with these words.  And I reflect upon all of your hopes and dreams to come.  In its truest sense, it is an honor and a blessing to be given this great responsibility to share these words with you all.

And how fitting, that on this Shabbat, as I say goodbye, as I reflect upon my five years at Temple Sinai of Roslyn, that these words, the Birkat Cohenim, are found smack dab in the middle of this week’s Torah portion.  It is besheret, meant to be!

I’ve been thinking about why these words matter so much to me.  And I believe it connects to two different aspects that have been at the forefront of my rabbinate: Teaching AND Relationship!

This prayer was first recited by Aaron, Moses’ Brother, the first Cohen Gadol, High Priest of Israel.  He blessed the people three thousand years ago, yet amazingly this blessing continues to be given today.  As a rabbi, I have the great privilege of passing on the words of our tradition that have become the foundation of who we are!  When I offer this blessing, I think back to all of the other rabbis and leaders who have blessed our people and how from generation to generation, we continue to learn, grow, and strive. 

It has been my greatest honor to teach, to learn, and to continue to share the words of our tradition with you all.  It gives me great comfort to know that I stand upon the shoulders of all those who came before me, and to know, that others will continue this path after me.

But, most importantly, is that this blessing is offered face-to-face!  As the blessing is given, we look into each other’s eyes.  At that moment, we are not strangers, but we are in relationship.  And, it is the relationships that I have built during my time here that have been most important to me.  It is these relationships that have helped me flourish.  It is these relationship that matter the most.  I’ve been honored to be a part of this community, to learn from you, to grow from you, and be a part of you.  I have so many thank yous to be given, which I’ll share later at dinner, but I want to thank you all for all that you have done for me.  Todah Rabbah, it is so much appreciated.

Thank you for opening up your lives to me.  Thank you for making me one of your rabbis, your teachers.  Thank you for all of the blessing and kindness you’ve given me.  And thank you for being you, for your friendship!  I know that there will be many blessings and thank yous given to me, but now I have the opportunity to thank you all one last time.  I ask you now, to please rise:

May God Bless You and Keep You

May God’s Face Shine Upon You and be Gracious to You

May God’s Face be lifted Upon You and Grant You Peace.  Amen.