Category: Rosh Hashanah (Page 1 of 3)

#BlogElul 1 5776: Who am I? What do I aspire to be?

September 4, 2016 / gurevitzr

creative commons; attribution 273C on deviantart.com

Who am I?

One of the most essential and yet perhaps most difficult of questions to answer. I can tell you where I was born. I can tell you about my family. I can tell you what I do for a living. I can tell you about some of my favorite and least favorite activities. Perhaps I can go a little deeper and tell you about some of the characteristics that are most present in me, and others that are not so present. I can tell you what I most like about myself and what most disappoints me about myself.

How much of the above gets to the essence of who I am? How much is superficial and descriptive? Is it even possible to respond to the question of ‘Who are you?’ in words, or is the best answer, perhaps, the way that we conduct ourselves and the things that we do with the length of our days?

As we begin the hebrew month of Elul, which announces that we are approaching another Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, this is the time that our traditions encourage us to reflect on these core questions of essence. Who am I? Who do I aspire to be? This year, those of us in the USA are also asking that question communally in a more intense and reflective way. Once every four years, as we decide who will represent us in the highest office in the land, we look at the character of our leaders and the way that they describe the landscape in which they hope to govern and make progress. We have to ask ourselves, who do we aspire to be? What values will shape our sense of self as a nation?

As in previous years, I will be using my blog to offer brief reflections several times a week during Elul, that provide some food for thought as we grapple with these core questions. This year, I’m going to be using the lens of technology and technological innovation to inspire a different way of trying to get at the essence of what it means to be human. This is inspired by the topic that our congregation has taken on for the coming 1.5 years, supported by a grant from ‘Scientists in Synagogues‘ provided by Sinai and Synapses. Here is an excerpt from a book that has been inspiring a lot of my thinking as I prepare sermons for the High Holy Days this year on this topic:

Kevin Kelly, author of ‘The Inevitable: Understanding the 12 Technological Forces That Will Shape our Future” presents the following insights:

… we’ve been redefining what it means to be human. Over the past 60 years, as mechanical processes have replicated behaviors and talents that we thought were unique to humans, we’ve had to change our minds about what sets us apart. As we invent more species of AI [artifical intelligence], we will be forced to surrender more of what is supposedly unique about humans… We’ll spend the next three decades – indeed, perhaps the next century – in a permanent identity crisis, continually asking ourselves what humans are good for. If we aren’t unique toolmakers, or artists, or moral ethicists, then what, if anything, makes us special?(p. 48-9)

Today, many of the debates about the impact of technological innovation on our sense of self and our communities gets simplified into the binaries of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ impacts. But we are, and have always been, creatures who use technological innovation to enable us to do more and be more. From the most basic of tools that enabled us to mold, shape, and change things in our natural environment, to the technologies that enabled us to write – first on clay plastered on rocks, then on papyrus or parchment, and later in books, with printing presses enabling an enormous leap forward in the democratization of knowledge, literacy, and language – we are not and could not be who we are today, either individually or communally, without the integral role that technologies have played in enabling us to become more.

I hope you will join me in this exploration of ideas as we look at the question of ‘who am I?‘ through a different lens, as we begin this month to recenter ourselves and find our way back to more deeply understanding ‘who do I aspire to be?‘

#BlogElul 7: To be – I am alive again

September 2, 2014 / gurevitzr

When the new edition of a Reform Siddur for Shabbat and Festivals, Mishkan Tefilah, was published a few years ago, some of the changes and some of the choices embedded in the liturgy necessitated conversations in congregations about how we would pray some of the prayers.

One example was the second paragraph of the Amidah, often referred to as the ‘Gevurot’ (strength/power), for it begins with the phrase, ata gibor l’olam Adonai – Your power is eternal, Adonai. In earlier generations of Reform prayer books a change had been made to the language of this prayer as you would find it in a Conservative or Orthodox prayer book. In three instances the traditional prayer referred to God as m’chayey hameitim, literally ‘who brings the dead back to life’. For decades in Reform congregations we recited this prayer with a change in the wording, declaring m’chayey hakol – who gives life to all things. Conceptually, this didn’t rule out the idea, discussed in early rabbinic sources, that one day the dead would come back to life. But neither did it assert this doctrinal belief in the way that the traditional phrase seemed to do so definitively.

So why, when a new edition of a Siddur was created, do we now find the words ‘hameitim’ offered in brackets as an alternative choice to ‘hakol’? There were those who argued that there were allegorical ways of understanding ‘who brings the dead back to life’ and that we could use the more ancient liturgical language without having to accept a messianic doctrine of the revival of the dead. We all have times when we feel like we’ve hit a dead end. Maybe we are stuck trying to solve a problem at work, deal with a difficult family member, or so lost in grief that we cannot imagine ever experiencing the joy and blessing of life again. And yet… somehow we do. We go home and we start the next day anew, and maybe we see a solution to our problem that was beyond our grasp the day before. Perhaps we try to reach out to that family member in a different way, or perhaps something changes in their life and we unexpectedly get a message from them to indicate a desire for reconciliation. And while we have good days and bad days, perhaps a grandchild comes to visit and brings us joy in the midst of our grief, or a walk in the fields on a particularly beautiful day brings us some awareness of beauty. Each of these are experiences of m’chayey hameitim – we have had a powerful experience of a revival of life. Our ‘being’ is not only in the past tense; now we feel some hope in the potential of our future ‘being’ too.

In Mishkan haNefesh, the draft Rosh Hashanah morning liturgy presents us with a poem by the Israeli poet, Zelda, as a contemporary text facing the Gevurot passage. In this poem Zelda, in the midst of grief, reflects on how the smallest things around her can suddenly bring her back to life:

In the morning I said to myself:
Life’s magic will never come back.
It won’t come back.
All at once the sunshine in my house
is alive for me
and the table with its bread
is gold
and the cups on the table and the flower –
all gold.
And what of the sorrow?
Even in the sorrow, radiance.

The closing phrase of the blessing (chatimah, or ‘seal’) is translated: You are the Source of all blessing, the life force surging within all things.

Bringing our awareness to all that surges with that life force can open up the possibility of feeling the presence of blessing in our lives once more. It is an invitation to return to life.

#BlogElul 1: What are we doing here?

August 26, 2014 / gurevitzr

You are probably aware, if you’ve sat through High Holy Day services in years past, that these worship services run longer than most other days of the year. If you have not really studied or examined the words on the pages closely before, you may not be aware of all the ‘extras’ that are part of the High Holy Day liturgy. Of course, the Shofar service is one of the most immediately recognizable additions. And the singing of Avinu Malkeinu. And you may have spent many a year struggling with the medieval piyyut (poem) U’netaneh Tokef (that’s the one that contains those uncomfortable lines, ‘who will live and who will die’). We’ll get to that one in a future posting.

But perhaps you don’t remember a series of paragraphs that are inserted into the Amidah that extend the section known in Hebrew as k’dushat Hashem – the Sanctification of the Name. That is the section where we repeat 3 times, kadosh kadosh kadosh… holy holy holy is the Eternal God of Hosts.

The reason why this section of prayer is extended with some additional paragraphs is because the ‘sanctification of God’s name’ was, historically, a big theme of the Jewish New Year. In ancient times there would be an official day of the year to celebrate and honor each year of a king’s reign. Think of Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain. There was a lot of fuss and fanfare as her Diamond Jubilee was celebrated back in 2012. Something of this ancient ritual was borrowed in Jewish ritual – one day a year we recognize and honor the coronation of the King of Kings. In our Rosh Hashanah liturgy we do this when we ‘sanctify God’s name.’ But what does that mean exactly?

The three additional passages that become part of the sanctification prayer over the High Holy Days each begin with the word u’v’chen, meaning ‘therefore.’ What follows in the 3 passages are an ancient liturgists idea of what the world would look like if we all acted in ways that demonstrated our attempt to bring a sense of God’s holiness into our world. First, all of creation would feel a sense of awe and reverence for God. Second, the Jewish people would no longer struggle because they would receive honor and respect and, third, we’d all be acting righteously and we would no longer be witness to evil.

Now, putting the history lesson and the ancient language of kings aside for a moment, what we have here, right in the center of one of the central prayers of our liturgy, are words that remind us that we’ve really failed to do much of meaning if we dutifully sit in synagogue and mindlessly recite words, unless the time we spend in reflection and connection remind and inspire us that, when we get up, we make meaning by doing.

That’s why I love some of the alternative, contemporary readings that our upcoming new machzor, Mishkan haNefesh, has placed across from the three traditional u’v’chen passages emphasize the centrality of our actions if we really want to do honor to God’s name and bring holiness into our world. My favorite of the passages is one that I intend to make the focus of this section of our worship this year – it is an adaptation of a prayer first written by Rabbi Jack Reimer and published in New Prayers for the High Holy Days in 1971. It begins:

We cannot merely pray to You, O God,

to banish war,

for You have filled the world with paths to peace

if only we would take them.

We cannot merely pray

for prejudice to cease

for we might see the good in all

that lies before our eyes,

if only we would use them…

And, following additional passages in a similar mode, it concludes:

Therefore we pray, O God,

for wisdom and will, for courage

to do and to become,

not only to gaze

with helpless yearning

as though we had no strength.

So that our world may be safe,

and our lives may be blessed.

I know how easy it is to feel frustrated in the ritual of sitting and praying over the High Holy Days. I know how easy it is to look around a room and wonder how many of the people we see will leave the sanctuary after a couple of hours of reciting righteous words and exert themselves to live according to those words. I know how it feels because I have had those thoughts and feelings, sitting as a congregant in years past. But I have come to appreciate that with all things in life, I most often act and do with greater care and greater impact when I have first taken sufficient time to contemplate and consider all aspects of the task that lies before me – not only what needs to be done, but who needs to be included, what challenges face us, and how we can achieve something collaboratively.

So it is with the High Holy Days. There are a great many words on the pages that lie before us. But they are there not to numb us into mindless recitation, but to prod and cajole us into action. Action that, when we rededicate ourselves to our purpose each New Year, might be that much more energized, thoughtful, and effective, because we took the reflective time that the High Holy Days gift to us to do better.

Returning – Renewing my blog for #BlogElul

August 25, 2014 / gurevitzr

I’ve been away from my personal blog for some time. For those who were following my posts, I’ve been blogging as part of a team for the folk at My Jewish Learning on the ‘Rabbis Without Borders Blog.’ We’ve recently expanded the team, so my posts there will now be monthly instead of twice a month. I share the page with a wonderful set of colleagues who offer a diverse range of voices. I’m hoping that the space created will help me keep my own, personal blog a little more current. Beginning this week, I’ll be starting the seasonal postings that I offer more intensively each year in the lead up to Rosh Hashanah.

The Hebrew month of Elul arrives tomorrow evening. The month that will bring us to the Jewish New Year of 5775. As in past years, it is my intention to participate in #BlogElul and share reflections, if not daily, then at least several times a week. I hope that these reflections will offer some spiritual nourishment and food for thought as we prepare for this deeply introspective time of the year.

As in past years, I will try to align my postings with the daily themes offered by my colleague, Rabbi Phyllis Sommer, who has enabled a broad collection of bloggers to share many unique perspectives on these shared themes, simply by creating the list and enabling us to find others’ postings on twitter and other social media by searching under the tag #BlogElul.

In addition to following these themes, I have another theme internal to my own blog that I wish to explore this year. If you’ve ever struggled with some of the words that are recited in prayer during the High Holy Days, or felt distanced by the images and concepts that they seem to convey, I hope these posts will speak to you. Inspired by new translations and alternative texts and readings that are being compiled in the upcoming (2015) new machzor for the Reform movement, Mishkan haNefesh (Sanctuary of the Soul), I’ll be exploring different ways into this dense and sometimes off-putting High Holy Day liturgy. My congregation, B’nai Shalom, in Westborough MA, participated in several months of piloting services with these new materials earlier in the year and voted to adopt the new prayer books that we hope to have in our hands in time for next year. We’ll be using a supplement of material from the new book during our High Holy Day services and, in fact, during our Friday night Shabbat services throughout the month of Elul and Tishrei.

I look forward to traveling with you, and encourage you to leave your own reflections, interpretations, and responses in the comments of these postings.

Relational Judaism and Israel – Rosh Hashanah 2 2013 sermon

September 11, 2013 / gurevitzr

I thought long and hard about this morning’s sermon. ‘To speak, or not to speak’… that was the question. Rabbi Melissa Weintraub writes, ‘In rabbinic circles, one increasingly hears sentiments like, “I’m not going to get fired for my politics on gun control or health care, but I could get fired for just about anything I say about Israel.” Rabbi Scott Perlo has coined this, the “Death by Israel Sermon.” So perhaps I should have waited until after my contract is renewed but… but…

Last week, there was a vigorous debate on the email listserv of the ‘Rabbis Without Borders’ Fellowship of which I am a part as to whether to broach the subject of Israel during these High Holydays or not. It was largely recognized that, just because we have a large, captive audience before us during this season, that our congregants don’t come at this time of year to hear politically-charged position papers. That doesn’t mean that we can never speak of anything that also occupies space in the political realm, but that we must choose our approach and our timing with thought. What do we seek to achieve? Who will feel ostracized or left out of the one-way conversation in which we hold court?

First, let me say something about what I won’t be talking about. I won’t be talking about the current geopolitical situation in the Middle East. As a Rabbi, I take a keen interest in the unfolding of events. Like you, I am concerned about the unrest in Egypt and Syria. The images we have seen reflecting the effects of chemical weapons in Syria are horrific, and our hearts are surely feeling enormous pain at seeing the suffering of children and hopelessness of a situation that has no easy solutions and seems unlikely to be calming any time soon.

While the situation may provide an opening for Israel and the Palestinians to work on making progress toward peace with less interference from nearby Arab countries, the possibility of violence spreading or being redirected, possibly with encouragement from Iran, also makes this a very uncertain time for Israel. The one thing we can say with any certainty is that we are witnessing change on a scale that we might never have imagined just a few years ago. And so, far from feeling that this round of peace talks is just the ‘same old, same old’, we should be heartened by the possibility of change there too, just as we have witnessed such enormous change in the region in a relatively short period of time.

I do not have the expertise to offer you a better analysis of the current situation than any you can read for yourself in the Jerusalem Report, Ha’aretz, or any other source penned by reporters or expert analysts. So that is not what I’m going to focus on this morning, important though it is.

This entire period of the High Holydays my focus is on Relational Judaism. In the book with this title, Rabbi Ron Wolfson outlines many aspects of the relational work that we should be doing in Jewish community: at the level of Self (developing personal spirituality), family, with friends, a sense of relationship with Jewish living, with Jewish community, connection to a sense of peoplehood, a relationship to Israel, a sense of global connections and, ultimately, our relationship with God. So it is evident to me that there is a relational way to talk about Israel and that, in the context of the work that I want us to do together as a community, this is an important conversation to have. And I believe that if we truly think about Israel, talk about Israel, and engage with each other on Israel from a relational perspective, we can go an awful lot further with the conversation than might otherwise be the case.

So this morning I’d like to share some stories to exemplify what I mean by a relational approach to Israel. These are stories about hope and about possibility. They don’t in and of themselves bring us peace in the Middle East. They don’t necessarily give us the answers that have eluded so many for so long. But, at a time when dialogue about peace between Israel and the Middle East often comes with the declaration ‘no preconditions,’ I believe that the relational approach is a precondition for true peace.

In his book, ‘Relational Judaism’, Rabbi Ron Wolfson discusses our relationship with Israel as one of the vital aspects of relationship building that needs to be deepened in Jewish communal life. He reports on the impact of ten years of programming in one congregation in St. Louis that sent their 15 year olds on a Summer-long program to live with Israeli youth in a Moshav in the 1970s. At the 30th reunion of those who had participated in the program, they surveyed the more than 300 people who had participated over the years. This revealed that the experience had created a ‘reference relationship’ with Israel that many respondents claimed was one of the most important influences in their lives, evidenced by many of the now-adult participants maintaining regular contact with their Israeli ‘families’.

Even with all of the options available today for teens, families and adults, 59% of adult American Jews have never been to Israel. Of the 41% who have made the trip, 19% have only been once. Only 36% of Reform Jews have visited Israel. 31% of American Jews say they have no interest in visiting Israel.

And yet, the same survey that produced these numbers found that 71% of those surveyed agreed that ‘caring about Israel is a very important part of my being a Jew.’ I know that a trip to Israel is expensive. But for those who are able to take other kinds of expensive trips, putting Israel on the priority list is one of the most transformative things you can do. The Federation is running a trip this November, and I would love to gather enough congregants together to lead our own trip in the next 2-3 years.
Short of a trip to Israel, it is not easy to create opportunities for meaningful relationship-building with Israel located here in the US, but it is certainly possible. Our Israeli emissary program is one example of success – our kids build genuine relationships with the two young adults who come and serve our community every year. Many keep in touch with them once they have left via Facebook. For our younger kids, this is often the first time that some of their stereotypes about Israel and Israelis are challenged as they come face-to-face with a real-life Israeli who brings their love of their country with them.

When we ‘know’ Israel only through the cable news stories, and the politics of the peace process, it can be polarizing and complex. We want it all to be nice and neat. Only knowing Israel in this way is not an easy way to feel connected. For some, through their involvement in organizations such as AIPAC or J-Street, the connection can be made, and that is largely because of the conventions that both organizations run superbly, providing many opportunities to meet and talk with others. And both organizations seek our involvement so that we do our part to ensure that a strong relationship continue to exist between the US and Israel. But those calls to action can fall on deaf ears if we haven’t yet made that connection for ourselves.

So I want to share some stories with you. Stories of conversations and experiences that I have had. For me, these have been my way into feeling connected with Israel.

Just the other week I was asking one of our Israeli congregants about her memories of Sukkot in Israel. Listening to her describe the family and neighborhood traditions, I was reminded of my own first experience of being in Israel at Sukkot, hearing singing coming from the Sukkah on the balcony of the apartment across from mine, smelling the foods, and seeing everyone out in the neighborhood to visit with each other. The conversation was a window into an experience, with smells and tastes. Its an experience we want to taste at our Israeli-style Succot celebration this year, providing opportunities for all of us to hear stories, see images, and share an experience that brings Israeli culture to the fore.

I have always made it my mission, when visiting in Israel, to find opportunities to speak with Arab Israelis and Palestinians. I spent a year in Israel, arriving there shortly after the 2nd intifada began. The old city was quiet, and the shopkeepers had plenty of time to chat. I spent extended visits over mint tea with some of them, listening to their stories of what was happening in the West Bank, and the conversations taking place in East Jerusalem. I even traveled into the West Bank and two refugee camps, led by one of those who I had befriended over time, to see things for myself. It opened my eyes to another perspective that, when we only do ‘Jewish Israel’ we can never find. And, whatever you may think of that perspective, my understanding of what the conflict is about and what both sides want was enormously deepened by having taken the time to sit down and have those conversations.

Back in the US, it also gave me access to the Arab Muslim population that was involved in interfaith work with my congregation and others in my last community in Bridgeport. They invited me to speak about the Jewish and Israeli perspective on the peace process, because they knew that I had listened to their perspective, and we had a mutual respect and, eventually, love for each other, even though we disagreed when new events in the conflict arose. The bridge building we were able to do locally was built on friendship and trust first, and is something I dearly hope to develop again over time in our larger community here.

In my own family, there is a broad range of perspective and experience. Suri’s sister made aliyah to Israel when she was 19. Her husband taught for many years at the Technion and his column is published regularly in the Jerusalem Report. For many years they have been involved with the Masorti – the Conservative – Jewish community in Haifa. They have 4 adult children. 3 are progressive and secular.

One became ultra-Orthodox, is a physician and is married to a Rabbi who teaches in a yeshiva. They have 8 children. For a number of years they lived in a settlement in Gaza, until the evacuation several years ago. As you might imagine, there are many perspectives around that Shabbat dinner table. But there is respect, listening and learning, that takes place when complex issues come up for conversation.

One cannot help but emerge from these kinds of discursive and relationship-based conversations with a very different kind of personal connection to Israel and the people of Israel. One gains entry into the diversity of perspective and experience of Israel’s citizens. There can be no two-dimensional analysis or understanding of what is happening or what will happen – it is complex and multi-dimensional, and ever-changing. When one is tempted to make statements about Israel, the perspectives gained from relationship-based conversations with different people brings about a little more humility – an awareness of what we know and what we don’t.

But more than anything, taking the time to listen to Israelis and Palestinians, here, abroad, online, at conferences or Jewish learning workshops, with shopkeepers or neighbors you may know whose families come from the Middle East – opening the conversation in order to listen and get to know the other – is transformative. Here in Westborough we have neighbors from Syria – they need our concern and compassion. The JDC (Jewish Joint Distribution Committee), supported by us individually and through our Federation, is doing work on the ground to provide emergency supplies to Syrian refugees in Jordan. You need to know that the Jewish community worldwide is doing that. And so do our neighbors. We have neighbors from Palestine. We have neighbors from Lebanon. We have neighbors from Israel. Our kids are going to school with their kids. We shop in their stores. We work in offices with them. So, take a seat and make a friend in these places too.

Perhaps you can’t go to Israel this November with Federation. Perhaps you’d like to wait to travel with your congregation, or perhaps you’ll be inspired to start making plans for a family trip. In December, our Union for Reform Judaism Biennial conference will be held in San Diego. There are quite a few of us already planning to go. ARZA, the Reform Zionist Association, will be celebrating their 36th anniversary there. Ruth Calderon, an exceptional scholar who started a Talmud yeshiva for secular Israelis and is now a Member of the Knesset, will be teaching and speaking there. And other Israeli voices will be present among the keynote speakers and the musicians. Consider joining us there.

Whether with neighbors, fellow congregants, at conferences, or even reading widely online … a fully rounded and deeply grounded Jewish identity includes a relationship with Israel. So let’s not shy away from the conversations. We don’t have to debate, and we don’t have to argue. We just need to listen. Let the conversations begin.

Why relationships are all about meaning-making – Erev Rosh Hashanah Sermon 2013

September 11, 2013 / gurevitzr

A man named Honi the Circle Drawer appears in several stories in the Talmud. One of these stories is particularly famous, or at least the first part of the story is, and you might recognize it. Here is the original story as told in the Talmud:

R. Yohanan said: This righteous man [Honi] was throughout the whole of his life troubled about the meaning of the verse, “A Song of Ascents, When the Lord brought back those that returned to Zion, we were like unto them that dream. (Psalm 126:1)” [This verse is talking about the exile of the Jews after the destruction of the 1st temple. The elite were exiled in Babylonia for 70 years, and then permitted to return to Jerusalem.]

Honi wondered, ‘Is it possible for a man to dream continuously for seventy years?’ One day he was journeying on the road and he saw a man planting a carob tree. He asked him, How long does it take [for this tree] to bear fruit? The man replied: Seventy years. He then further asked him: Are you certain that you will live another seventy years? The man replied: I found [ready grown] carob trees in the world; as my forefathers planted these for me so I too plant these for my children.

Honi sat down to have a meal and sleep overcame him. As he slept a rocky formation enclosed him which hid him from sight and he continued to sleep for seventy years. When he awoke he saw a man gathering the fruit of the carob tree and he asked him, Are you the man who planted this tree? The man replied: I am his grandson.

Now, that is the famous part of the story, and many times when we tell the story, it ends there. There are children’s picture books that tell this story. If I wanted to give a sermon about sustainability or the environment, or other aspects of preparing our world for future generations, this would be a fine story, and a fine place to end the story. However, the story in the Talmud does not end here. The next part of the story does not belong in the children’s picture books.

After the exchange with the grandson of the carob tree planter, Honi exclaimed: It is clear that I slept for seventy years. He then caught sight of his ass who had given birth to several generations of mules and he returned home. He there inquired, ‘Is the son of Honi the Circle-Drawer still alive?’ The people answered him, ‘His son is no more, but his grandson is still living.’ Thereupon he said to them: ‘I am Honi the Circle Drawer’, but no one would believe him. He then repaired to the Beit Hamidrash – the House of Study and there he overheard the scholars say, ‘The law is as clear to us as in the days of Honi the Circle Drawer for whenever he came to the Beit Hamidrash he would settle for the scholars any difficulty that they had.’ Whereupon Honi called out, ‘I am he!’. But the scholars would not believe him nor did they give him the honor due to him. This hurt him greatly and he prayed [for death] and he died. Raba said: Hence the saying, ‘Either companionship or death.’ (B. Taanit 23a)

What an intensely sad story. I feel a knot in my stomach every time I read this story.

Honi seems to be saying…

Either give me companionship – connection and relationship with other human beings who know me and see me for who I am – or I might as well be dead. I catch my breath as it taps into a very deep place for me. It takes me to the lonely moments of my life, when I have felt isolated and invisible.

I think that more than anything else in the world, when I enter into the emotional sphere of thinking about broken relationships, or times when I have felt alienated, I find myself being dragged down into a dark place. The place from which Honi felt so desperate and alone that he prayed for death. I think of the Beatles lyrics from ‘Eleanor Rigby’ – ‘All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong?’

At Rosh Hashanah we pray to be inscribed in the Book of Life – the antithesis of Honi’s prayer for death. I have often taught that our prayer to be inscribed in the Book of Life is, in fact, an inner call to ourselves – that we rededicate ourselves to living each day as fully as we can, being as much of our essential selves as we can be.

But if alienation and a life without relationship to others is a kind of death, then perhaps our prayer to be inscribed in the Book of Life is also an inner call to ourselves to live a life that prioritizes our relationships and connections to others. Relationship and connection are the themes that I will be exploring throughout this entire High Holyday season, and which I wish to begin examining more deeply this evening.

I truly believe that it ultimately comes down to nothing less than the meaning of life itself. The meaning of life lies in something we deeply know — in connection and in relationship. But if we know that – why is it so difficult to pull off? Why are there so many of us sitting here who can relate to that dark, painful place within because of a relationship with a member of family or an old friend that has become broken? Or because we don’t have as rich a network of connections with others as we would like? Perhaps we’ve had a hard time making meaningful connections with others in this congregation? Perhaps most of the time we push it far from our minds as we get on with the task of living, remaining connected to others whose interactions with us are less messy and complicated. But it only takes a moment to let those damaged or broken relationships come to the forefront of our minds, or those times when we’ve walked into a room full of people and haven’t found a group of people with whom it’s easy and comfortable to join the conversation, than we immediately feel the pain again.

Rabbi Irwin Kula, Co-President of the National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership (CLAL),

has produced a series of TV segments called ‘Simple Wisdom’. They are all available online. In sharing his ‘simple wisdom’ on relationships, he quotes Robert Wuthnow, who teaches at Princeton, explaining how it is that we experience the meaning of life as rooted in connection and relationship:

“If you listen to this, I promise you – you will never forget what meaning is again. I want you to think of cooking. Think of yourself cooking. By the way, for some of you the very idea of cooking may actually be meaningful. But just cooking. Now I want you to think of yourself cooking for your family or some close friends. Which is more meaningful – just cooking or cooking for your family or friends? Now think about this – you’re cooking for your family – using a recipe from your grandmother and you’re remembering her as you’re cooking. Again, which is more meaningful … cooking any old – or new – recipe or cooking bubbe’s recipe? Now think about this. You’re cooking – you’re cooking for your family – using a recipe from your grandmother as you remember her and, while you’re cooking, you’re also making some extra food for your neighbor who is sick and homebound. Do you see how each level is more meaningful?

That’s what meaning is, what Wuthnow calls spheres of relevance – how many spheres of relevance, how many frameworks can any individual act have? And the more spheres of relevance, the more connections to other people, the deeper the meaning of the act is, and that’s true with any act – whether it’s exercise, whether it’s walking in the park, whether it’s going to work, or whether it’s cooking – every act, if you can use your imagination, begins to connect to more and more spheres of relevance and the more spheres, the more meaning.”

The Presbyterian minister and writer, Frederick Buechner, writes: “You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.” Relationships with family and friends are the pathways to a world of meaning. To live a meaningful life, therefore, we must do all that we can to tend and care for these pathways.

We Jews don’t have the conventional picture of heaven and hell in our tradition (if you’d like to know more about that, please do join me for my adult ed course this Fall on Death and the afterlife in Jewish thought). But I am sure many of you are familiar with the popular parable about the man who dies and, before entering heaven, asks if he may see what hell looks like. He is taken to a banqueting hall with a long table laid out with a sumptuous feast. But then he notices that the people at the table have long forks strapped to their arms such that, even though they can put food on the forks, they cannot reach their mouths to enjoy the feast. The man is then taken up to heaven and he enters a room that looks identical to hell. He cannot understand – the same banqueting table and the same feast, and the people here also have long forks strapped to their arms. But then he looks closer and he realizes that, in heaven, the people have learnt that they can enjoy the feast together when, instead of trying to get the fork into their own mouth, they turn and feed each other.

The only difference between heaven and hell is that, in heaven, the people have learnt how to live in relationship with each other. Honi calls to us, ‘Give me companionship and connection!’

That is what it means to live in relationship. We do not want life to be a living hell. So we must do all that we can to nourish each other. May this New Year bring healing to our relationships with family and friends, and open up new possibilities and new connections. And may these renewed connections also be inscribed in our Book of Life.

This year, deepening relationships and creating connections form not only the themes of my High Holyday sermons and services, but also the beginning of a prolonged effort within the context of our congregation to create opportunities for members to connect and get to know each other better. But I don’t want to spend our worship time talking about this as an idea, a vision, and a hope, important though those things are. Today, tomorrow, on Yom Kippur, Succot and Simchat Torah, the largest number of our congregation pass through this building and spend time together. And yet, especially if you do not avail yourself of the opportunities to sit together for one of the community meals that we are offering on each of these days, you can easily sit through services and leave and not have connected with a single soul. I don’t want that to be your experience this High Holydays. If we’re going to commit ourselves to creating more opportunities for meaningful connection with each other, what are we waiting for?

So, tonight is your first invitation. You may have to turn behind you or in front. You may have to get up and switch seats for a few moments. But please, take the time to find someone that you don’t already know, or don’t know well. Think back to the example of cooking, and Wuthnow’s spheres of relevance. Think of an everyday activity – it might be cooking, or it could be driving, reading, listening to music, going out to a show, watching sports, taking a walk, going to the beach …. Think about how that activity becomes more meaningful because of the people you are with, a story about a specific occasion you were doing this activity, a memory of this activity with a family member in year’s past. Introduce yourself to the person you have turned to, share your example and, in doing so, let them learn a little bit about you, your family, your background, where you’ve come from, what and who you love …

#BlogElul: Sharing our Secrets #takeaseatmakeafriend

August 25, 2013 / gurevitzr

The video presentation above (if you are reading this via the email feed, click on the title above to be able to view the video on my blog) deeply touched my heart. So much shared humanity to be found on a website of people’s secret sharings. Then I had a thought. When I take quiet time to sit on Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, or the days inbetween, how honestly do I reflect on my own self, and my own stuff? Sometimes I can get there, but sometimes I, as I’m sure we all do, just barely scratch the surface.

So how about this as an exercise this year. Take a little stack of postcards. Or it could be post-it notes. Imagine that the destination of what you write on those cards is a place where no-one will ever know that it was you who wrote the message. And then think about the ‘secrets’ of your own life that could be shared. They may be things that cause you embarrassment. Or perhaps it is something that is painful. Maybe its a little cute, if not altogether the highest expression of humanity. And maybe its something that you haven’t been willing to own up to … until now.

Whether you choose to submit your secrets to the project website or not, take a look at what you have written throughout the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. What can you learn from them? How might you inspire someone else who read them? If you shared them with God, how might this lift the weight, instigate a change, or lead to a reconnection with someone in your life?

If you want to post on Frank Warren’s site, go to http://www.postsecret.com or follow the site’s postings on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/postsecret

#BlogElul: Try something new for 30 days #takeaseatmakeafriend

August 16, 2013 / gurevitzr

30 days from now will take us past Rosh Hashanah and not quite to Yom Kippur (so that will allow for a few days of ‘misses’). Is there something you’d like to try to make a habit? Is there a habit you’d like to leave behind? There’s no better time to give this a go. And Matt Cutts makes it sound like so much fun! I’ve got some lazy habits at home. I can think of one or two that it would be good to break. Matt says you can do anything for 30 days, right? Right!

#BlogElul: Take a Seat, Make a Friend

August 9, 2013 / gurevitzr

Each year, our wonderful colleague Rabbi Phyllis Sommer, puts forth a daily theme for the Jewish month of Elul – the four weeks leading up to Rosh Hashanah. There are many others who are participating in #BlogElul with quotes, images, and thought pieces. It is wonderful to read multiple interpretations of the daily theme by different writers on their blogs and via their tweets.

This year, I will also be blogging through Elul, but I’m going to be departing from the common themes of the #BlogElul project. It is a little chutzpadik on my part, but I’ll be continuing to label my postings with the #BlogElul moniker to connect with the larger community who is engaged in reflection during this preparatory month. Traveling with my own congregation, connecting with community, and specifically relationship-building between congregants, is our larger theme for this coming High Holyday season and beyond.

I’ll explain more in a just a moment. But first, I invite you to take a few minutes to watch this wonderful, heart-warming video to set the scene:

And here are some excerpts from the message I shared with my congregation on the 1st day of Elul, to launch our own ‘Take a Seat, Make a Friend’ experience over the coming 7 weeks and beyond:

Four people, sitting in kayaks in the middle of a lake, strike up a conversation. It is not a hypothetical – it is what happened when two of the families who came to our Summer picnic at Hopkinton State Park just a few weeks ago met. They discovered that they have a great deal in common. Lesley and David learned that they’d grown up in the same town, and even belonged to the same temple. David and Jim learned that they used to work at the same company, and David has done business with Jim’s new boss. Jim and Lori discovered that they were both Industrial Engineers by training. But, as Lesley put it, more than the specifics, it was the overall sense of connection that was important – it created a warmth in their hearts and a feeling of being ‘home’. Just as our teens speak about Chai School being a place where a sense of common identity is felt by how friends just ‘get each other’, so that sense of connection is something that we all deeply hope to find in community.

This is what happens when you take a seat and begin to talk. It can happen on a kayak, in a ball pit, at a coffee table, at an Oneg, and anywhere that two people begin a conversation that scratches beneath the surface.

We all yearn for that kind of connection. And we want Congregation B’nai Shalom to be the kind of community where you can find it. This year we will be especially focusing our energies on creating the kind of gatherings and opportunities that will enable more of us to have those meaningful conversations and deepen relationships among the members of our congregation.

There will be many opportunities to experience this during the High Holyday season. However, there is no time to start like the present. While the core work of relationship building happens in face-to-face interaction, the next four weeks – the Jewish month of Elul – is traditionally a time of preparation. During this month, I will be posting inspirational quotes and videos on themes of connection and relationship, along with questions on our Facebook page (‘like’ the page to receive the feed on your wall). If you are not a Facebook user, you will find the same reflections on my blog (where you can also sign up to receive new postings in your email inbox). I invite you to engage, comment, and share when you can. Our online sharing and interactions with each other’s comments will enable us all to get to know each other a little more. If you prefer, you can choose to share anonymously on the blog and, if you wish to do so on Facebook, send me your comment and we will post as ‘CBS’ with your thoughts.

In addition, I am inviting congregants to contemplate some of the questions below and send me short responses in the coming weeks. I will weave these responses into our High Holyday services this year and, in this way, we will co-create our liturgy together, getting to know each other a little more deeply in the process.

Share something on your bucket list? Why this?
Who or what inspires you?
What is one experience that changed your life?
What keeps you up at night?
What do you have faith in?
What is most precious to you?
Who do you miss? How did they impact your life?

So… let the conversations begin.

#BlogElul 18: Igniting the Spark of Love

September 5, 2012 / gurevitzr

Cross-posted at the Rabbis Without Borders blog at myjewishlearning.com

Last year, Jewish musician and Spiritual Leader of Temple Shir Shalom, Oviedo, FL, Beth Schafer wrote a book called ‘Seven Sparks.’ Taking the 10 commandments as her inspiration, she re-cast them as seven sparks that can truly guide us toward what she has labeled, ‘Positive Jewish Living.’ The origins of both the book and the larger ‘Positive Jewish Living’ project was a belief that Beth held that Judaism was chock full of wisdom that we can truly live by, but our Jewish tradition can sometimes make it challenging to find your way into the complex, rabbinic texts, commentaries and interpretations of Torah in which this wisdom is found.

The first of the 10 commandments is more of a statement: ‘I am the Eternal Your God, who led you out of Egypt.’ From this, Beth extracts the first of her Seven Sparks: ‘I am free to love and be loved.’ She asks why God needs to make such a statement of introduction. Why does God need to introduce God-self? Perhaps because our people, newly freed from Egypt, have been distanced and need to be reintroduced. God frees us from slavery in order to reestablish a loving relationship (our covenant). Restoring love helps to bring healing to our broken world (tikkun olam). Our time of wandering in the wilderness was a time in which we were re-taught and re-membered how to love. We also learn how to receive love. ‘It’s hard to feel that you are loved, if you’ve spent all of your energy as a slave to something unhealthy. It’s hard to feel worthy when you are ensnared by self-doubt or self-criticism. When someone shares love with you, you need to know in your heart that you deserve it.” (Schafer, 2011).

At the end of each chapter, Beth includes a section called ‘Ignite!’ How do we ignite the spark of love in our day-to-day lives? These are her suggestions. How appropriate they are as a source of contemplation and inspiration as we prepare ourselves spiritually for a New Year:

For yourself:

I love myself.
I have immense potential to grow.
I appreciate my quirks as well as my gifts.
I am proud of both big and small accomplishments.

For your family:

I express love generously and often.
I approach disagreements from a loving perspective.
I give without expecting anything in return.

At work:

I extend courtesy and respect to both superiors and subordinates as part of my work.
I extend amazing service to clients or customers as one of my many goals.
I act naturally and honestly to promote a great environment.

At your Congregation:

We welcome all who visit the congregation from the parking lot, to the phone, in meetings, services, and all written correspondence.
We respond with immediate compassion and caring to those in need.
We recognize special events such as birthdays, anniversaries, recovery from illness and special lifecycle moments as a community.