Author: Rabbi Michael Farbman

Purim last year marked a powerful moment for many of us, marking the ‘before’ and ‘after’. It was the last time our religious school gathered in the building in 2020, an incredibly joyous celebration, followed by a community-wide megillah reading the following day. In just a few days after that, our building was ordered closed by the town, and we entered a new reality of social distancing, online interactions, virtual Torah readings and family gatherings, b’nei mitzvah celebrations, Shabbat services, funerals and shivas over zoom, and many other experiences none of us could have ever imagined before.

The arrival of Purim this year marked a full cycle of a Hebrew year, and by the time we reach Passover, we will begin a second cycle of the ‘never-in-my-life-could-I-have-imagined-doing-this’ experiences.

This has been a tough year — there’s no better way to describe it. Some of us caught the virus; some got quite sick and were hospitalized. Many of us lost friends and family members. The danger is still here, even as we begin to get cautiously optimistic about the future, and more and more people get vaccinated, bringing us closer to the time when we will be able to begin to go back to ‘normal’.

In the years to come there will no doubt be multiple studies of the impact(s) of this pandemic – on our individual psyche, on our society, on our health system and our communal structures etc. etc. All of us have our personal experiences, of course, but it will take time and effort to begin to combine our individual stories into a bigger picture. Right now, most of us can’t wait to get back to normal, but as things begin to open up, we may find that we will need some time to adjust and slowly re-enter the world in which we are able to travel freely, hug friends and strangers, eat in restaurants and attend concerts and indoor services.

As we prepare for the second Passover online, I began thinking of the idea put forward by the Jewish mystical text, the Zohar. In Hebrew, Egypt is called Mitzrayim. The Zohar suggests that the name is derived from m’tzarim, meaning “narrow straits” (mi, “from,” tzar, “narrow” or “tight”). This reading of the word suggests that our Exodus story does not end with physical liberation, but it can also teach us to look at our internal struggles, at our personal ‘narrow places’. The physical liberation from slavery that our ancient ancestors experienced did not automatically turn them into free people. It took years in the desert, careful and painstaking nation building, to transform former slaves into a free nation.

The success (please God) of the vaccines and the removal of societal restrictions cannot come soon enough. But as we celebrate science and wait, impatiently, for this freedom to arrive, let us also acknowledge the toll this pandemic has taken on all of us. Let us remember to look out for each other, to acknowledge that the arrival of physical freedom, an important first step, needs to be accompanied by our emotional and spiritual recovery – which will take time.

Let us use this Passover as an opportunity to reflect on the freedoms we enjoy, both physical and emotional. May we draw inspiration not just from our ancient ancestors, who were liberated from slavery, but also from generations of Jews since, who found strength and courage to celebrate this freedom, even if the circumstances around them were anything but joyous. This year, we are still here. Next year, may we finally be free of this current affliction!

Chag Sameach!

Music stirs our souls in a way that words often cannot, activating emotions within us that we did not know existed… Music is such a strong presence in Temple Emanuel worship style that it is almost unimaginable without it! Yet music in worship (especially instrumental music) has a complicated history in Judaism. Following the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE the rabbis placed a ban on the use of music in general, and especially in worship, as a sign of mourning. It is not hard to imagine that having witnessed the devastation, the last thing they wanted to do is sing…

From the very beginning, the Reform Movement insisted on bringing the music back to worship, back to the synagogue, back to Shabbat. Music and joy were always part of Judaism and now they were making a comeback! Synagogues installed pipe organs and commissioned talented and popular composers of the time to write music settings for service in the synagogue, giving us the profoundly inspiring music of Lewandowski, Bloch, Sulzer and many others. The music they wrote for the services was spiritual and uplifting. It was also very modern and reflective of the 19^th century popular music styles.

As the popular music styles changed in the second half of the 20^th century, a new kind of music entered the world of the synagogue worship. The pipe organs were joined (and often replaced) by guitars and electric pianos. Temple Emanuel, founded in 1962, is a true ‘child’ of that era – from the very beginning, our services were accompanied by guitar music, with the entire congregation singing along, rather than relying on a powerful pipe organ and a professional cantor or choir to provide music for the worship experience. In fact, it is probably safe to argue that music has been one of the main defining features of the new congregation, as well as many others that appeared in the 1960s and 1970s around the country.

The music of Debbie Friedman had defined that generation – and after some four decades it continues to touch the souls of so many Jews all around the world. But it’s not only her music and her talent that has completely transformed the music in the synagogue – Debbie, along with Jeff Klepper and a few others, had ignited the spark of creativity in generations of young Jews. She inspired them, she nurtured them, she challenged them – and they have completely transformed Jewish worship and Jewish music. Every year since Debbie’s untimely passing in 2011 we gather for a Debbie Friedman memorial concert around her yahrzeit. We sing and we play and we honor her legacy. This year we will not be able to hold our annual Kol Shira, a community-wide concert celebrating the power of Jewish music. This 10^th yahrzeit will have to be marked in a different way, much as we continue to adjust our festivals and our personal milestones to the realities of this pandemic. But on January 29^th we will honor Debbie’s memory with a special annual Shabbat service filled with her music. Yechi Zichra Baruch, may her legacy endure as a blessing for all of us.

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!