Author: Rabbi Michael Farbman

By the time you read this column, the High Holy Days 5781 may seem like a distant memory, but I wanted to start by acknowledging what an incredibly different, challenging, difficult, inspiring, comforting and creative experience it has been this year. I want to thank Laurel and Anna for their incredible talents and commitment, treasured every High Holy Day season, but never quite as much as this year. I want to thank Jake Zonderman and Samuel Farbman for their wonderful tech skills, which have been put to a lot of great use; David Sasso and all our singers for helping create beautiful choral videos, allowing us to ‘sing together’ despite the realities of the pandemic; Olga and Robert for actively supporting us behind the scenes in the otherwise empty sanctuary; Lew Shaffer for organizing the readers for our services, Barbara Berkowitz and the amazing group of TE chanters; Susan Pinsky Bleeks who can serve as a Gabbai even from a distance; Melissa and Barbara Goldhamer and all our Honey Bees who have managed to reach every TE member just in time, Robin Levine-Ritterman and our entire leadership team, who have managed to keep calm and offer all the right support and encouragement throughout the process of preparation and celebration. I also want to acknowledge the generosity of Jimmy Shure who has enabled us to install high quality streaming equipment in the sanctuary, in memory of Rabbi Jerry Brieger.

Most of all, I want to thank YOU. All those who logged into the High Holy Day services, even if you were not convinced this was ‘going to work for you’. All those who really missed seeing their friends in person, but found a way to connect through the screens and the breakout rooms. All those who allowed themselves to be surprised, comforted and even inspired by this experience. I am so grateful to all of you for making this strange and different set of Holy Days feel special and ‘real’.

We are in the month of Cheshvan, a quiet time with no Jewish festivals, and opportunity to reflect a little and to prepare for Chanukah, a beloved moment of gathering and celebration with our families and friends, as well as with our community. Chanukah received its name from ‘dedication’ of the Temple in Jerusalem, and we are used to filling our building to the brim with people and with light from our chanukkiyot every year. Alas, this year will once again require a change: the covid realities will make such a gathering not possible. But just because we cannot be together in our beloved building does not mean that our celebration will be dampened, or the amount of light diminished!

On Shabbat Chanukah, December 11 at 6pm, bring your chanukkiah to your screen, and let us celebrate our commitment to our traditions, to our community, to our values, to Jewish learning and to each other. Let us dispel the darkness with light!

דער מענטש טראַכט און גאָט לאַכט.  Der mentsh trakht un got lakht.

This summer was carefully planned in our household. Robert was headed to Europe and Israel for the trip of a lifetime with NFTY and his Eisner camp friends. Sam was combining exciting summer internships with travel and time with friends. Olga and I were headed to Israel for some quality learning time at Shalom Hartman institute, and we even planned to have a mini reunion with some of our fellow classmates from a Jewish leadership program, on this 25^th anniversary of our graduation. Then there was time working at Camp, and of course, an opportunity to take a deep breath, regroup, and prepare for the next academic year at our Hebrew school, High Holy Days, and an exciting year of programs at TE.

Alas, none of these plans can happen. We are, of course, not alone in our reality of dramatically shifting our expectations this summer — the entire country, the entire world — have had to rapidly change and cancel plans. As the old Yiddish saying goes, “Man plans and God laughs”; or as my father likes to say, “Want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans.” Of course, the realities of this pandemic are no laughing matter – the staggering numbers of illness and death continue to grow and shock us. We know a little more about the disease than we did back in March, but many questions remain unanswered, and we continue to listen to the advice of epidemiologists and other medical professionals on how best to keep ourselves, our loved ones, and all the vulnerable in our society as safe as possible from the brutal effects of Covid-19. We continue to encourage people to practice physical distancing as much as possible, to wear masks in public (especially when inside) to prevent the further spread of the infection while scientists are working on a vaccine and treatments. A special blessing for wearing a mask and saving lives is circulating on the Jewish internet, reminding us that it is indeed a true mitzvah, to keep each other safe.

So what should be our lesson from this year? Should we stop making plans? Should we become so cautious that we no longer travel or plan exciting gatherings with family and friends? For the time being, yes, that seems to be the case – we should put a hold on many of our exciting plans. But should we stop being aspirational about our lives, and stop making “God laugh”?

I don’t believe that’s a good lesson to take away from all of this. Judaism constantly reminds us to be a little less self-assured; not to ignore the fragility of life, of our health, of our safety and security. Not to fall into despair — far from it — but instead to approach life, and especially all of our plans, with a little more humility. Traditionally observant Jews often say be’ezrat haShem (“God willing”).  For some, perhaps, this phrase does mean that they accept God’s control in every aspect of their lives, but I think the more appropriate reading of this phrase is to say that as we plan, we should remember that not all plans can come to fruition. And if some of our plans, no matter how big or small, cannot happen, perhaps we can take a deep breath and remind ourselves that sometimes things don’t work out the way we planned them – and that’s okay, too.

I will not get to do many of the wonderful things I hoped to be able to experience this summer. I’m a little sad, but that’s okay. Next year at TE will look a little different than in the past – but, as we have been discovering over the last few months, a little different is not all that bad! More people have been attending Shabbat services every week; more people have been coming to Torah study; Religious school saw amazing attendance every week we were online. Would I choose to do it that way? No, of course not – I miss seeing all of you in person, hugging people, sharing food… But I take comfort in knowing that we met this challenge as a community – and will continue to do so in this coming year. Thank you for being part of this journey.

Stay healthy and safe!

Last week we celebrated the Jewish Festival of Shavuot. We marked the giving and receiving of the Torah, the Revelation. I read from the Torah scroll the Ten Commandments (actually, Ten Utterances, or aseret hadibrot in Hebrew), laying out the foundation of our lives, our understanding of the world, our faith and our behavior. One of the most dramatic episodes that occurred at the foot of Mount Sinai follows shortly after. The people who experienced God’s presence and were shaken to their core with awe and inspiration proceeded, only a few short weeks later, to create a golden calf, an idol that violated one of the commandments received directly from God in a direct revelation! How could this be?

As we celebrated Shavuot this year, we were shaken by yet another cruel death of an unarmed black man, George Floyd, murdered by a policeman in broad daylight, in front of the passers-by who pleaded with him to stop… Around the same time, we were confronted with yet another story of blatant racism when Christian Cooper, a bird watcher in Central Park, politely confronted a woman whose dog was off-leash in a bird sanctuary, only to be threatened with police to be called on ‘an African American man’. Luckily, that story did not end in death or bodily harm…

How could this be happening?

Time and time again we find ourselves in shock and anger over these murders and injustices, we protest, we march, we mourn, we seek and demand justice, we demand to find a solution. And yet, a few days, or weeks, later we find ourselves hearing the same stories, learning new names of victims, repeating the same, now iconic, words ‘I can’t breathe’…

The cruelty leaves us numb. The anger bubbles up and erupts on the streets, and the violence and destruction that travels on the coattails of this anger further threatens the world around us. At this moment in time, we want to believe that we can finally begin to get somewhere, and yet history teaches us that even after the most dramatic moments humans can quickly forget and make the same mistakes again…

When we talk about receiving the Torah at Sinai we remind ourselves that just because the Torah was given to us, it does not necessarily mean we received it. The ancient revelation of Sinai has to be reenacted by each and every one of us in order to be present in our lives. We engage with the Torah, its stories and narratives, its laws and challenges, and through that struggle and learning we make it our own, we truly receive it today.

Let us commit today not to let the passion for justice subside. Over the last few days, we have begun to convene to plan a thoughtful response to these tragedies, and the underlying issues of racism, hate, and violence. In the next week or so we will begin to share the ideas for programs and conversations, movies and books that will help us as a TE community to engage these painful but crucial questions. If you would like to be involved in planning such events, or if you have any expertise to offer, please kindly be in touch with Robin Levine-Ritterman or myself.

I end with the words of a statement issued today by the New Haven Board of Rabbis and Cantors, of which I currently serve as Chair:

  As rabbis and cantors of the Greater New Haven Jewish community, we cannot be silent at a time of communal crisis. We add our voices to those avowing the principles of our democracy and mourning the senseless murder of George Floyd. We stand in solidarity with our Black neighbors, including Jews of Color, knowing many live each day with the incessant reminder that racism is still a virulent disease in our society.  As we sadly add Mr. Floyd’s name to the ever-growing list of senselessly lost black lives which now includes Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and so many other people of color, we pledge to work together to find ways to bring an end to this calamity by safeguarding the rights of all and, through education, removing the stains of bigotry and hatred.

       We condemn those employing ugly rhetoric to marginalize and further divide our nation. We link our arms with those who peacefully demonstrate, voicing a message of hope through the democratic principles of free speech, communal gathering, and the spirit of open dialogue.

       We strongly stand in opposition to those who have used this time of mourning and loss to sow chaos through looting, violence, and destruction of property.

       We reach out to individuals of all faiths to work with us in each of our communities to help repair this world by modeling divine attributes of mercy and compassion. As God is merciful, may we be merciful to all those we encounter. As God is gracious, let us offer grace and compassion to lift up both our neighbors and the stranger in our midst. As God is abundant in goodness and in truth, may we find the strength to do good and seek the truth in all our encounters each and every day.