A few weeks ago I lost my chavruta, a study partner with whom I learned together throughout the rabbinical school and beyond. Rabbi Dr. Robert Ash was not just a close friend and a former roommate, he was a partner in thought and in learning. His sudden death following a post-surgery complication is a heavy blow for our family, and we are eternally grateful for the day we got to spend together in December – a day that began with a visit to a bookshop: where else would you meet a friend after a long period of being apart? In addition to his Rabbinic degree, Robert completed not one but TWO separate PhD programs, and was pursuing a law degree in his spare time. ‘Read the book’ was his response to just about any situation in life!
Jewish tradition has never imagined learning as a solitary act. From the beit midrash of late antiquity to the synagogue classrooms of today, Torah has always come alive in relationship – through voices in conversation, questions offered with curiosity, and disagreement held with care.
We are living in a time when conversations about Zionism, Israel, and Jewish identity can quickly become polarized. Positions harden. Debate replaces listening. People feel either defensive or silenced. And yet, these are precisely the moments when communal learning becomes most essential.
This spring, I will be teaching the Shalom Hartman Institute’s iEngage course, “Zionism in the 21st Century.” The goal of this class is not to win arguments or sharpen talking points. It is not about persuading one another toward uniformity. Rather, it is about deepening our understanding – of history, of ideas, of one another, and of ourselves.
In this eight-unit course, Hartman scholars invite us to explore the core tensions and values of Zionism in the 21st century, responding to the dominant critiques of Israel and Zionism in a post-October 7 reality. Together, we’ll explore frameworks for holding moral complexity, for talking about Israel in a time of war, and for engaging in conversation with courage, compassion, and clarity.
These are not simple questions. They are layered, complex, and at times uncomfortable. That is exactly why they require communal learning. I invite you to join me and fellow TE members on this learning journey — not because you already know what you think, but because you are willing to think more deeply. Not because you are certain, but because you are curious. Not to debate, but to discover.
Let’s learn together. Perhaps we will all form some new and meaningful chavruta relationships.
Did you know it has been ten years since the TE house came down?
Six months have passed and I still think one of the best things about being TE’s President is chatting with members of our community. One thing that always makes me smile is how folks identify their relationship with TE based on the different buildings they were in. We have members who attended events “in the barn”, others who “spent a lot of time in the house.” For anyone who joined more than a decade ago, myself included, we brought our kids to Asepha in the house, we had meetings in the house and we remember the distinction between the house and the sanctuary.
For newer members who joined in the past ten years, TE looks today mostly how it was when you joined – minus the two new classrooms near the kitchen. Some might not even know what “the barn” or “the house” means. If that’s the case, be sure to ask around and you will hear some great stories of TE’s history.
Summer 2015 was when TE moved into the expanded main building and February 2016 was when the house came down. These were momentous events in TE’s history and we feel the impact of them every time we enter TE.
The move from the old house into the new school/office wing
By having our school in the house and our services in the sanctuary, many in our community felt that there was a big divide, a “moat” as many called it, between our young families and the older members of our community. Our lay leaders kicked off an important project to unite TE called the One Campus Project. The goal was to bring all of TE together under one roof, so our community could learn, pray, meet, eat and interact all within one space.
I love the vision and energy that went into this project and I am grateful for those who invested so much time and resources into creating our one, united, TE building.
One thing I’m focusing on this year is to make sure that all our members feel connected to all that TE has to offer, including our amazing school and services. I want our established members to connect with our younger families and share their TE stories. If you haven’t experienced a Sunday morning Asepha in a while, I highly recommend you attend- the room is packed and the energy is perfect. I want people showing up, signing up and helping out. We all make TE the special place it is today. Lately, there have been many events that bring us all together, like the Dreyfus lecture that Ed organized with the Adult Ed committee, the Havdalah event in November put on by our religious school parents and teachers, and Chanukkah Shabbat organized by Holli, Jill and Ann.
My hope for 2026 is that we continue to appreciate the beauty of our community and come together within our TE home. Happy 10th birthday to our One Campus and united community.
One of the most visible and meaningful ritual garments in Jewish life is the tallit, the prayer shawl that many of us wrap around our shoulders during worship. At first glance, it is a simple object – fabric, fringes, sometimes stripes of blue or silver – but in truth, the tallit carries centuries of memory, identity, and intention.
The Torah instructs us in the Book of Numbers: “You shall make for yourselves fringes (tzitzit) on the corners of your garments… and you shall look upon them and remember all the mitzvot of Adonai and do them.” The tallit, with its four-cornered shape and fringed edges, is our way of literally clothing ourselves in mitzvot. When we wrap in a tallit, we symbolically surround ourselves with sacred purpose before we begin to pray.
Traditionally, the tallit is worn during morning services (Shacharit), and service leader always wears a tallit as a sign of communal responsibility. Out of reverence, a tallit is never taken into the bathroom (our tradition is spiritually grounded, but also very practical!). At TE, there is also the custom to inviteanyone who comes up to the bimah for the Torah service – whether for an aliyah, lifting or dressing the Torah, or another honor – to wear a tallit, marking that moment as especially sacred. And while both tallit and kippah are always welcome at TE as meaningful ritual expressions, they are never demanded.
B’nai mitzvah students often receive their own tallit as a visible sign of entering Jewish adulthood. Wrapped in a tallit for the first time as they are called to the Torah, they step into the privileges and responsibilities of a Jewish adult – including being counted in the minyan and standing as full participants in communal prayer. It is a powerful moment when tradition, community, and personal growth are woven together in a single garment.
Over generations, the tallit has evolved in both design and meaning. Traditionally worn by men, today in many Reform communities – including our own – people of all genders choose to wear a tallit as an expression of spiritual readiness and personal connection. Some tallitot are family heirlooms passed down through generations; others are chosen at moments of transition – b’nai mitzvah, confirmation, conversion, or weddings. Each tallit tells a story. The multi-colored tallit that I wear throughout the year was an Ordination gift from Rabbi Winer, a garment filled with so much meaning and personal connection…
The tallit also reflects our communal values of inclusion, intention, and shared sacred space. Some prefer a classic white wool shawl with dark stripes; others wear vibrant silks, handwoven fabric, or garments created in Israeli or local artisan studios. Together, this tapestry of tallitot mirrors the diversity of our congregation itself – many paths, one community. Some of us wear a tallit every time we pray; others bring it out only on special Shabbatot or holidays. Some have one tallit for life; others mark different chapters with different shawls. There is no single “right” way – only the invitation to let the tallit become a personal gateway into prayer.
As we gather each month, wrapped in these sacred garments, we are reminded that prayer is not only something we say, but something we step into. The tallit becomes our bridge between the ordinary and the holy, between the weekday self and the soul that reaches upward. May the tallit continue to wrap each of us – and our entire Temple Emanuel community – in warmth, memory, and blessing.
In the TE lobby before Selichot services, Lenny told me that my Shofar articles don’t all need to be serious. Some can be funny or at least light-hearted. I told him I’m not really a funny person. An hour later, something classically TE happened which I thought I would share for this Shofar article.
Partway through the beautiful service that filled all the seats in our sanctuary and brought together four congregations, my first “presidential” High Holy Day responsibility took place. Nine “chosen” members of our community were asked to come onto the Bimah to change the Torah mantles. I was really proud of myself and had taken time over the preceding weeks to think about who would receive this honor. I had nine wonderful members of our community representing some of our newest members and some who have been part of the community for decades. I had members of different ages, and with varying experience participating in services. We had a quick pre-service huddle where Rabbi shared advice on how best to make the change and the nine people had arranged themselves into three teams and were all ready for their moment. Everything was set, and I was ready to sit back and enjoy watching our members take part in this ritual.
As they stood and walked onto the Bimah, I counted eleven people going up! I started to worry that I had really messed up and maybe I asked someone and had forgotten. I also worried that there was something special to the number nine and I had just committed a big faux pas as we entered into the High Holy Days.
In my moment of panic, I was surprised that Rabbi didn’t make eye contact with me. We are starting to be able to communicate through looks- a sign of a maturing relationship. To my relief, I didn’t get raised eyebrows. Did he not know where I was sitting? Thankfully everything seems to have gone okay, even though they were a bit crowded on the Bimah and they seemed slightly confused. Later, I learned that nine was the requested number solely because it’s helpful to have one person sit holding the Torah, one person to remove the silver and another to lift off and replace the mantle. Nine was a logistical, not sacred, number.
So why did I have eleven? When the choir began singing, Rabbi announced that we are now at the part in the service when he would like members of our TE community to come up and help change the mantles from our colorful ones to the white High Holy Day mantles. Two extra people stood up when Rabbi mentioned TE members, and proudly walked onto the Bimah. These “Bimah crashers” as they will be called, were simply excited and caught up in the moment. In classic TE fashion, they assumed that Rabbi was inviting the congregation to join in. The fact that we had nine carefully selected members who had huddled with Rabbi before the service and had pre-selected their “roles” was not known. In the moment, our Bimah crashers were proud, energized and ready to participate. That is what we do at TE, we stand up and join in.
At the Oneg after the service, there were many laughs with our Bimah crashers. Their energy and humor in retelling their experience as they realized they hadn’t been invited onto the Bimah was infectious. It was a really entertaining and heartwarming end to a beautiful service.
The Festivals of the month of Tishrei are over, we got to dance with the Torah scrolls on Simchat Torah, and breathed a little easier as we watched the remaining 20 living hostages return home and ceasefire take effect.
Removing the sign dedicated to the return of hostages from our bimah felt powerful and overwhelming. As we begin a new Torah cycle, we are reminded that every ending is also a beginning — a chance to revisit familiar stories with new eyes and deeper understanding. Each year, the Torah invites us back into conversation with our tradition, with one another, and with the questions that guide our lives.
You can join TE’s ongoing Torah Study most Shabbat mornings. We move through the Torah text together at our own pace, exploring its stories, challenges, and wisdom in an open and engaging way. No prior knowledge is expected—just curiosity and a willingness to learn in community. In our informal setting, every voice adds to the conversation as we bring the Torah into dialogue with our lives today.
In addition, we are thrilled to launch our reinvigorated Adult Education series, bringing together guest scholars, and community voices to explore Jewish texts, ideas, and contemporary questions in a spirit of openness and curiosity. Whether you are returning to study or stepping in for the first time, this is an opportunity to connect, learn, and grow together.
On Tuesday, November 4, Professor Maurice Samuels will discuss his recent, highly acclaimed book Dreyfus: The Man at the Center of the Affair and will offer his thoughts on the relevance of the Dreyfus trial in our own time. “The life of Dreyfus forces us to consider what it means when the institutions of liberal democracy come under assault and when half a nation commits to believing a lie. The life of Dreyfus also allows us to understand what it takes for truth to triumph, and how a nation can emerge from a political crisis with its faith in its institutions intact. As anti-Semitism …. stage(s) a comeback around the world today, the affair has much to tell us not only about the causes of hatred, but also about the ways it can be resisted.”
On Saturday, November 22, we are honored to welcome back Rabbis Michael Shire and Marcia Plumb whose visit will bring inspiring voices and new insights to our shared spiritual journey. On Saturday morning, Rabbi Plumb will offer us an opportunity to explore Torah through the lens of Mussar, Jewish spiritual practice, and later that day Rabbi Shire will host a special Family Havdalah program and experience (and there will be dinner too, I’m told – watch out for more details in the Shofar Blast!)
As the Torah begins anew, so too do we — learning, growing, and deepening our connections within this remarkable community. May this season of study and gathering bring meaning, joy, and renewal to us all.
For 50 members of Temple Emanuel of Greater New Haven, cleaning up trashhelps right some of the world’s wrongs
MILFORD, Conn. – It’s amazing what you can find on a beach. About 50 members of an Orange synagogue picked up a watch, a hotel key, a paring knife, sunglasses and even a pair of shorts as they scoured Woodmont Beach Sunday as part of their fourth annual beach cleanup.
“We call it Reverse Tashlich,” said Dr. Karen Fenichel, who organized the event for Temple Emanuel of Greater New Haven. “Jews have a tradition called tashlich of throwing crumbs into the water to get rid of their sins. The water is supposed to carry their transgressions away. In Reverse Tashlich, we take mankind’s sins – all the pollution people create – out of the water. It’s a great time for entire families to spend some quality time on the beach doing something good for the community.”
Fenichel works with the religious school at Temple Emanuel to assure that students as well as the adults are involved. This year, about 50 congregants and friends came together for the event. In addition, she coordinates with Repair the Sea, an international Jewish environmental preservation group; Save the Sound, a regional group dedicated to protecting Long Island Sound; and the City of Milford’s Open Space Preservation office.
“It’s amazing to think Jews all over the world this week are cleaning up beaches and celebrating the Jewish New Year by literally saving the world,” added Fenichel. “The best part is that the kids are deeply involved.”
Kids and adults moved up and down the beach in five groups, picking up trash, putting it in bags and documenting what was found. They looked for all sorts of trash. Cigarette butts were deemed particularly dangerous to wildlife because of the materials used to make them. About 183 cigarette butts were dropped into the plastic bags. In addition, Styrofoam cups, syringes, paper, fishing tackle scraps, pieces of glass, rubber material and other trash filled seven bags totalling almost 50 pounds. And the students fully understood what they were doing and why.
“The animals don’t deserve to have so much trash in their habitat,” said Ben Carmelli, 11, who tallied the trash for one group.
“This is a season when we are thinking about our actions and their impact,” said Rabbi Michael Farbman. “This is a wonderful opportunity to combine our traditions with those of the rest of the world. It also makes you think about your own actions the next time you walk on the beach.”
“It’s a way for the TE Community to give back to the wider community,” added Lindsey Sussman, temple president. “It’s a recent tradition to make the world better from generation to generation.”
Your Tikkun Olam Committee encourages your active support and participation with the following activities. Please read The Shofar and the weekly Shofar Blasts for more information concerning all of these projects.
Interfaith Volunteer Service Day – Interfaith Service Festival 2025
Sunday, September 21st – 12:00 noon – 4:00pm
This year at St. John Vianney Church, 300 Capt. Thomas Blvd., in West Haven
Please join with others from Temple Emanuel and those from other congregations and faiths for an interfaith day of service and fun. This is a perfect hands-on Tikkun Olam activity for family participation. For more information, go to the sponsoring organization’s website at www.IWagePeace.org &/or contact Rachel Suchoff and Jean Silk, TE Coordinators
4th Annual Reverse Tashlich (A Rosh Hashanah tradition)
Sunday, September 28th
Partner with “Repair the Sea” and “Save the Sound” to remove litter from our local beaches. This is a perfect hands-on Tikkun Olam activity for family participation.
Rebecca Cohen, Karen Fenichel, and Adam Spiewak, Coordinators
32nd Annual High Holy Days Food Drive
September 22nd – October 14th (Through the Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot holidays).
Donate non-perishable food to be distributed to the food pantries of both the Jewish Family Service (JFS) and the Town of Orange. Monetary donations can also be sent directly to these two food pantries. Let’s help those in need right here in our own communities. As the Torah teaches, “If one fails to share G-d’s bounty with the poor, the observance of the festival would be unacceptable.”
Will Sherman, Coordinator
23rd Annual Thanksgiving Frozen Turkey and Pie Collection
October 27 – November 16 (Pre-Thanksgiving)
Donate frozen turkey breasts (NO whole turkeys please), pies, & all the “fixins” to be delivered to the Downtown Evening Soup Kitchen (DESK). Let’s surpass last year’s collection of 93 turkey breasts and help make Thanksgiving special for those in need.
Jeffrey Levinson, Coordinator
Religious School Chanukah Baskets Project – Sunday, December 14
Donations collected December 5 – 14
Toys, books, games, clothing, gift cards, and personal hygiene/care objects to be donated to JFS, r’Kids Family Center, Fair Haven Community Health Center, JCARR, and Fellowship Place.
Maddy Sussman, Olga Markus, and the Religious School students, staff, and parents
Abraham’s Tent
At some point during December – February(Dates to be determined)
As this is still a work in progress, some activity will be created to help support the Columbus House Homeless Shelter. This activity may also be coupled with a monetary collection to benefit Columbus House and all their programs.
Barb Levine-Ritterman and Lee Stolzman, Coordinators
Mishloach Manot and Diaper Drive
February 1st – March 1st
The mitzvah of giving Mishloach Manot is derived from the Book of Esther which enjoins the Jewish people to send portions of food to one another and gifts to the poor. As in the past, TE will distribute a selection of Purim treats and we will continue our tradition of collecting diapers and monetary donations to support The Connecticut Diaper Bank.
Michelle Bailey, Rochelle Kanell, and Rise’ Siegel, Coordinators for the Diaper Drive
Beth-El Pasta Collection
Purim, March 2nd – 4th
Both the Religious School children and the adult Megillah reading participants will again use boxes of pasta as groggers to drown out the name of Haman during the Purim service. The pasta will then be donated to the Beth-El Homeless Shelter & Soup Kitchen in Milford. A pasta collection box will be available in the lobby.
Nancy Weber, Coordinator
Religious School Purim Mitzvah Project
Purim, Wednesday, March 4th
“Blessing Bags” with notes from the Religious School children containing personal hygiene/care objects will be donated to the homeless program of Fellowship Place. “Welcome baskets” will be donated to Columbus House. These projects are sponsored by the Tzedakah Fund collected by the Religious School students.
Olga Markus and the Religious School students, staff, and parents
In addition to all the above Tikkun Olam Projects, members of Temple Emanuel are actively involved in a variety of additional activities and we urge your active support and participation with the following:
Jewish Community Alliance for Refugee Resettlement (JCARR)
JCARR is a partnership of five local synagogues and the Jewish Federation of Greater New Haven. For the past eleven years JCARR has helped welcome, relocate, and settle a number of refugee families from around the world. Your ongoing support and assistance in a variety of ways is both sought and greatly appreciated.
Rochelle Kanell, TE Coordinator
Congregations Organized for a New Connecticut (CONECT)
Keeping within our Jewish values of “Justice, justice you shall pursue,” CONECT is an organization devoted to social and economic justice, gun violence and health insurance issues, police reform, and immigration rights. CONECT is currently seeking a Temple Emanuel liaison. Please contact the President if you’re interested.
Beth-El Homeless Shelter & Soup Kitchen (in Milford)
In addition to a variety of collections, volunteers from TE prepare and serve dinner on the first Tuesday of every month. This is a great hands-on activity. Please consider volunteering.
byLindsey Sussman, Rabbi Michael Farbman, Olga Markus, Jeffrey Levick and Melissa Perkal
Lindsey: l’dor va’dor
My first core memory at TE was the Rosh Hashana service I attended shortly after we joined, over a decade ago. I had never been to a high holiday service and I went with a friend and her parents. My friend grew up at a conservative temple in Massachusetts and was also a new member and young mom at TE. I was sitting in a row with them and felt uncomfortable at such a big service and knowing so little. There was clearly a known orchestration to the day. As I sat there, I was in awe of how everyone knew the words, knew the order and joined in at the right times. What struck me at that moment was that generations of family members attended services just like this one, over decades and centuries, and recited the same words. Parents taught their children, who taught their children. I was jealous and impressed. I knew I wanted to be part of this tradition, to have the comfort and connection of this history and know it will live on beyond me. As my oldest daughter has shared with us, her favorite hebrew phrase is l’dor va’dor, from generation to generation and I understand why.
A decade or so later, I was struck with another powerful moment when a few of us had the honor, on behalf of the TE community, to deliver the gift of a Torah scroll to a new community in Valencia, Spain. Seven of us attended a Friday night service with members of Shir Jadash Comunidad. We entered an unmarked building on an industrial street. No signs or markings on the door. Inside was a large, modest space with a handful of folding chairs. Within an hour, there were at least 50 of us. Families from throughout the region, some who drove nearly an hour to attend, seniors, children, and even two families from Washington, D.C. who were in the area and heard about the congregation. While most of us didn’t speak the same language, we quickly fell into a shared experience. The service was done in a mix of Spanish, English and Hebrew. While our melodies were a little different, we were all having the same experience and knew the same words, the same flow. When Rabbi Farbman led us in Lecha Dodi on a borrowed guitar, the energy in the room expanded so quickly. You could feel it. Children were clapping along, voices were getting louder. It was amazing. The service continued with beautiful energy. Children were noisy on the floor in the corner, engaged but playing. Then after the service concluded, the congregants set up a dinner for us. Everyone helped bring out food, take care of one another. After dinner, without discussion, clean up happened, again as a group activity. Jim is sweeping the floor with one of the local congregants, Scott is folding tables, Melissa is clearing food. Our TE group was seamlessly meshed with their community, not just for the service but for the small details that make a community work.
From that unmarked building, I could close my eyes and would think I was at TE. The songs, the words, the children, the energy. This congregation is like TE at its start, and in many ways still how we operate. We function only because of the community, those who donate their time and resources to make TE run. We have a lovely building and a strong and diverse community but at its heart we are still the same. It’s the person who picks up the broom, bakes the challah, has an aliyah, speaks up, shows up, that makes our community so strong. Valencia reminded me of that, but with the added joy and curiosity of a child, still feeling things out.
Rabbi Farbman: Torah as a living document…
In the midst of the celebration, a few of us were pulled aside by a member of the community who is a local journalist, for a few moments of reflection. The language barrier made it a little difficult to communicate, but we managed nonetheless!
They asked me to talk about this moment, about bringing the Torah. I shared briefly the journey, and the challenges – making it through security at JFK with the Torah required three levels of authorization, but we succeeded. Being allowed to bring the scroll onto the plane was not an easy feat, but with a little perseverance, the willingness of Iberia staff to listen to my explanations, the letters we prepared in advance and, perhaps most importantly, the articles in Spanish press published ahead of time, I was ushered onto the plane and shown to the overhead compartment in first class, where the Torah safely traveled (while we were at the back of the plane in our seats:).
I also acknowledged that of course, the most economical way of delivering the Torah to Valencia would have been to pack it carefully and to ship it with a courier. But the most economical is not always the most appropriate or the most meaningful! Navigating all the challenges along the way, and bringing the Torah by hand was not easy – but I cannot think of a more fitting way to bring the Torah from one community to another.
As I sat in the small, hot room, I proceeded to tell them that a community needs people – without people wanting to be together and spend time together, you don’t have a community. The community can exist without the building – even though having a place to call home is very, very helpful. The community can exist without the rabbi – even though having the rabbi teach and lead the community can help transform it in great many ways.
Rabbi Alona Lisitsa is helping Shir Jadash from afar, as she is only able to travel to Valencia a few times a year, but her knowledge, her teaching, and her support enable this nascent community to flourish and continue to grow. The community can exist without the formal prayerbook – TE had famously compiled many a loose-leaf prayerbook in its early days, leading to publication of our beloved ‘blue’ Seder T’filot Emanuel, long before we adopted Mishkan T’filah prayerbook of our movement. These days, one can even project the words of the prayers onto a screen or a wall, with visual t’filah! The presence of the well-laid-out prayerbook that contains transliteration for those who are only learning their way around the service is super helpful, even if it is just a printout, but a beautiful prayerbook does not make a community.
All of these elements are important, and as I said – none of them are enough if you don’t have people who want to come together, spend time together, pray and eat together and make a living community.
You can even make do without a Torah scroll – you can study from the book, and in the absence of a Torah scroll you can even read the weekly portion from a book – although customarily people are not called up for an aliya in those circumstances. But when you enter the Torah scroll into a small rented room, and place it into the hands of a community who are thirsting for its presence, you see the instant transformation, and it is beautiful.
I was honored to stand there, to witness the tears, to add my own tears to those of others in the room, as we celebrated this powerful moment in time. It was a true blessing to get to experience this moment of joy and community.
Jeffrey Lelvick: Community
In the beginning of this year, I noticed a short blurb in this publication that mentioned that TE was donating one of our Torah scrolls to a new Reform community in Valencia, Spain, and that a small delegation of congregants were planning on taking the journey to Spain to hand off the scroll in person. As a filmmaker, I recognized a compelling story and knew immediately I wanted to document it. It had all the makings of a great narrative: a nearly 100-year-old Torah from Poland, that had already lived a long life here in the U.S., was being donated to a community in a country where Jews were expelled over 500 years ago.
As I began filming and editing some initial footage, I was surprised to find myself welling up and crying at various points of the process. I was overwhelmed with emotion watching the scribe restore the scroll. As I recorded the Shavuot service where Rabbi Farbman read the Ten Commandments from the outbound Torah, I couldn’t take my eyes and camera off the flickering candles and the smiling faces of our fellow congregants who warmly followed along, nodding and singing during this intimate service. A few months later we did it all again, but this time in the company of our new friends and fellow Jewish travellers–the members of Shir Jadash in Valencia.
A sun-scorched Valencia was awaiting us when we arrived with the Torah in early July. And while the sparkling Mediterranean Sea and waving palm trees indicated that our humble home in Orange was far away, the community and warmth of the members of Shir Jadash felt incredibly familiar. Its members welcomed us into their small space with smiles and open arms, as if we had known each other for years. It was as if somebody started playing a vinyl record in Connecticut, lifted the stylus, and it put it back down in Spain. The language barrier was real, however, when Rabbi Farbman began strumming and singing Lecha Dodi, if there was any space between our communities, it quickly evaporated, and in that moment, we were one community, sharing our customs and hymns as they have been passed on through generations. As the president of Shir Jadash tightly held the donated Torah under the chuppah the group had created with a tallit, tears streamed down his cheek. From behind the camera, I too, choked up witnessing such beauty derived from such a natural act of providing this community an essential part of our tradition.
At various moments, I found myself wandering away from my camera to sing along and pray with the group, as if I were being pulled in by an unseen force. I’ve come to understand that force as the need for any of us–all of us–to be part of a community. I instinctively felt like I was part of the small community there and part of a much larger Jewish community during my few days in Valencia. As I spoke with the local members, who came from diverse backgrounds–from Catholics who became Jews by choice to others who had been unknowingly practicing Jewish rituals as children, I realized that they had found a community that spoke to them, that fulfilled the need to be together, to share meals, and to sustain themselves. The neshama of their community is deeply Jewish, and I’m not sure if that’s because of its diversity or in spite of it.
As I dig deeper into my footage to revisit and log what I captured, I’m struck by how much I shot of the Torah itself. From the scroll being placed in the overhead bin on the plane to being gently placed into the arc of Shir Jadash for the first time, it is clear to me that this sacred object is not one to be placed on a shelf and admired, and that perhaps the sacredness is not necessarily only from the words scribed on its parchment, but stems from the community it creates when it is unrolled and read in together in a shared space.
Olga: Pride and Joy
Pride and Joy—these are the two most powerful emotions that continue to resonate with me following our recent journey to Valencia, Spain, where we had the profound honor of accompanying a Torah scroll to its new spiritual home, on behalf of the Temple Emanuel community. As I stood before the congregation of Shir Jadash Comunidad, presenting the gifts from our Religious School—talitot and a Torah yad purchased with Tzedakah contributions from our students, families, and faculty—I was filled with an indescribable sense of pride and deep, abiding joy. What a blessing it was to take part in such a sacred mitzvah.
The weekend was marked not only by ceremony, but by a heartfelt human connection. There were tears of gratitude, hugs of friendship, and bursts of laughter that echoed across language barriers. We embraced one another not as strangers, but as a long-lost family. The shared joy, the emotional resonance of the Torah’s arrival, and the warmth of genuine hospitality created moments I will never forget.
Following Shabbat lunch, a member of Shir Jadash asked me, “How does it feel to leave your Torah scroll behind?” I paused for only a moment before responding without hesitation. I replied, “It doesn’t feel like leaving it behind at all. On the contrary—I am filled with deep gratitude and immense pride, knowing we have delivered the Torah into the welcoming arms of its new, loving, and gracious home.”
Shir Jadash Comunidad, in so many ways, mirrors our own beloved Temple Emanuel. It is a warm, sincere, DIY-spirited congregation, full of individuals who open their hearts to newcomers. Despite our different native tongues, we felt entirely at home. The bonds we formed over just a few days were real and moving.
I believe this journey marks not an ending, but a beautiful beginning—a first step toward a long-lasting relationship between our two communities. There is something indescribably powerful about standing together with fellow Jews across the world, realizing that regardless of distance, language, or tradition, we are all united as part of K’lal Israel—the sacred and enduring global Jewish family.
As for me, I will carry this unforgettable experience in my heart, and do my best to share its spirit and meaning with all of you. Am Yisrael Chai—the People of Israel live!
Melissa Perkal: Joy
For me, my love of being Jewish is the joy. The joy of community, the joy of song, the joy of meals shared, the joy of prayer, the joy of being able to give back to those who need it, the joy of learning, the joy of shared experiences. Sometimes, that joy seems to go underground and become dulled by unthinking repetition. The trip to Valencia and Shir Jadash Comunidad was a return to joy. It was a profoundly joyful and rejuvenating experience. So many of the trip’s details have been shared by my fellow travelers, so I won’t repeat them here. I think my newest task is to help re-ignite the joy here at home. It’s made even more exciting by finding a community in Spain that reflects that joy back to us and is ready for us to return to them at any moment.
I am honored to be writing my first article as TE’s president. Since we first joined in 2013, I have loved TE, and have been grateful for the energy, peace and community it provided me and my family. I had heard bits and pieces of TE’s history, knew that there were layers to what makes us so special, but didn’t know the specifics. My family had a great experience with the TE school which is skillfully led by Olga and the school teachers. Not being raised in a religious family, getting to know Rabbi, learning from him, being comforted and supported by him, and watching our community thrive thanks to his presence has been amazing.
This year, I’ve had the privilege of learning more about TE’s history and have been peeling back the layers of what makes TE so special. I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with so many wonderful past TE presidents, and connecting with new and longtime members. I’ve heard stories about TE in its early years, I saw a TE membership directory from the 80’s, and a video from TE’s 50th anniversary. The love and respect in people’s voices as they speak about past members who were the heart and soul of TE over the decades reinforced that we are a special place that thrives because of connections and commitments.
I am humbled to be joining this special group of TE layleaders who work to strengthen and sustain our beautiful community. I’m excited to continue to learn and listen, and I encourage you to ask each other, and me questions, share stories and continue to participate to keep TE strong.
A few weeks ago, at the TE Annual Meeting, I talked about Phil Pivawer z’l and his legacy. Phil served as President of Temple Emanuel twice, over 50 years ago – in fact, it was during his first presidency that our current location was purchased in 1971, establishing a permanent home for TE. Over the years I have heard the stories about the efforts to make it happen from Phil, as well as from Rabbi Winer. But it was only last year, when preparing eulogy for Phil, that I realized just how young they both were – Phil was 31, and Rabbi Winer was 29! The pioneering spirit of those early TE days has impacted our community culture and continues to resonate still. The desire to fashion the community which is our shared Jewish home remains at the heart of everything we do.
Over the years, Phil has quietly (and mostly anonymously) supported every important endeavor at TE. Whether it was an emergency loan for a new roof, or a Second Half Century efforts campaign, the expansion of our building or a matching grant to encourage increased Fair Share giving, Phil has never ceased to support TE, keeping it afloat and gently nudging it towards greater sustainability. Most of these efforts were anonymous, because Phil took the Jewish teachings on tzedakah seriously. He wasn’t looking for recognition, but he wanted to make sure important needs were addressed. It was only in the last few months of his life that he began to accept that people should know at least some of his imprint, and be inspired to consider what legacy and what impact they may have on TE.
About a year before his death Phil invited Olga and me to lunch and shared with us some of his plans: he was leaving funds to TE, some in the name of his late wife Barbara, and some from his estate. The money will of course be overseen by TE treasurers, but I was to become a steward of some of it, while Olga, in her capacity as school director, will be the steward of funds directed at education and school needs. We were of course stunned and promised to think about the possible projects. When Phil was rushed to the emergency room in December, he was calm and collected – but he also made sure he reminded me of his clear instructions for a few things, including these gifts, before he allowed me to ask about his wellbeing! I assured him that I will honor his wishes, of course – even if, in that moment, I didn’t fully appreciate the significance of it all.
Phil was a passionate supporter of TE. He wanted it vibrant. He wanted it relevant. He wanted it sustainable. He knew that TE as we know it was the result of pioneering spirit, creative energy and communal commitment. He also knew very well that sheer enthusiasm is not always enough, you need resources and support. So his legacy, and the not-so-subtle ‘nudge’ that he has given me is this: figure out what TE needs NOW, in this moment, and make it happen. Any such vision requires financial support – and Phil wanted to make sure he gave us the seed funds to do the important work. He wasn’t trying to tell us what to do – even though Phil had plenty of ideas about TE, just ask any member of Finance Committee, where he continued to serve until the end. He wanted the next generation of TE leaders to figure it out, and he wanted us to know that we have his support, his blessing, and yes, a nudge to go for it.
As we embark on this journey, we acknowledge with gratitude this support and encouragement, and we invite you to join us, and the TE Board and Officers, in figuring out what TE’s future truly needs in this moment.
