Twenty-five years ago this month, I stood with my classmates on the bimah of West London Synagogue and received my rabbinic ordination, the semikha. Like many newly ordained rabbis, I carried a mixture of excitement, humility, idealism, and uncertainty. I knew that I wanted to help build meaningful Jewish communities, teach Torah, accompany people through life’s joys and sorrows, and help shape a vibrant Jewish future. What I could not have known was how profoundly the communities I would serve would shape me in return.
As I reflect on this milestone, I find myself thinking less about the passage of time and more about the relationships, experiences, and sacred moments that have filled those years. A rabbi may officiate at weddings, teach students, lead worship, comfort mourners, celebrate B’nai Mitzvah, and guide communities through periods of change. Yet the true privilege of the rabbinate is being invited into people’s lives at moments of meaning and vulnerability. Every congregation leaves its mark on its rabbi, and every member becomes part of the story.
During these twenty-five years, the Jewish world has changed dramatically. Technology has transformed how we communicate and learn. Patterns of Jewish engagement have evolved. We have celebrated extraordinary achievements and faced profound challenges, including the painful realities confronting Israel and world Jewry today. Through it all, one lesson has remained constant: Jewish community matters. In an age that often pulls people apart, congregations continue to create spaces of belonging, purpose, learning, and connection.
I am especially grateful that a significant portion of this journey has been shared with TE. For 17 years we have celebrated milestones, navigated challenges, welcomed new members, mourned losses, learned from one another, and continued to build a community grounded in Jewish values and caring relationships. Whatever accomplishments may be associated with my rabbinate are, in truth, the accomplishments of a community that has chosen to invest in Jewish life and in one another.
This summer, I will have the opportunity to mark this anniversary in a particularly meaningful way. I will return to London to attend the World Union for Progressive Judaism’s Darkeinu conference, and will also receive an Honorary Fellowship from Leo Baeck College on the twenty-fifth anniversary of my ordination. I am deeply honored by this recognition, which feels less like a personal achievement than a reminder of the teachers, colleagues, family members, and congregants who have accompanied me throughout this journey.
As I prepare for a month-long sabbatical, I look forward to time for learning, reflection, and renewal. Jewish tradition understands that periods of rest are not interruptions to our work but an essential part of it. My hope is to return with fresh ideas, renewed energy, and a deeper appreciation for the sacred work we continue to do together.
At our Annual Meeting, I shared some reflections on these twenty-five years of rabbinate—what has changed, what has endured, and what gives me hope for the future. Most importantly, I hope we can reflect together on the next chapter of our congregation’s story. While anniversaries invite us to look back, they also challenge us to imagine what comes next.
For all the moments we have shared and for the journey that still lies ahead, thank you. It remains one of the greatest privileges of my life to serve as your rabbi.
Each year, almost quietly, we enter one of the most meaningful stretches of the Jewish calendar: the counting of the Omer. Beginning on the second night of Passover, we mark each day – one by one – for seven full weeks, journeying from liberation to revelation, from the story of leaving Egypt to the experience of standing together at Sinai.
At first glance, counting the Omer can feel like a simple ritual—brief, even easy to overlook. But its power lies precisely in its steadiness. Each evening invites us to pause and take notice of time passing, not in large leaps, but in small, intentional steps. Jewish tradition teaches that this period is not just about marking days, but about shaping ourselves. The Kabbalistic tradition, in particular, frames these 49 days as an opportunity for inner growth, with each week and each day corresponding to different human qualities – kindness, discipline, compassion, resilience, humility, connection, and dignity.
In a world that often urges us toward immediacy and completion, the Omer offers a countercultural practice: growth takes time. Transformation happens incrementally. Holiness can be found not only in the destination, but in the daily work of becoming.
This sacred counting leads us toward Shavuot, the festival that commemorates the giving of the Torah. It is a moment not only of receiving sacred text, but of renewing a sacred relationship – between the Jewish people and our tradition, between each of us and the values we choose to live by. The rabbis teach that revelation did not happen only once, long ago, but continues to unfold in every generation, in every community, and in every learner willing to engage deeply with Torah.
This Shavuot (Thursday, May 21 at 7pm), we will also celebrate Confirmation with six of our students, marking an important milestone in their Jewish journeys. Maddy Sussman, Sam Ridky, Jacob Miranda and Roey Back are high school seniors, preparing to embark on the next chapter of their lives as they head off to college, and they are joined by Ava Berkowitz and Rily Spark, our rising seniors. Confirmation is not an endpoint, but a declaration: that Jewish learning and identity are not something one “finishes,” but something one continues to choose.
There is something profoundly fitting about linking Confirmation with Shavuot. Just as our ancestors stood at Sinai and said, “We will do and we will hear,” our students stand at their own moment of affirmation – stepping forward with curiosity, commitment, and a willingness to keep learning. They remind us that revelation is not only something we inherit; it is something we actively receive.
May this season of counting be a time of mindfulness and growth. And may we celebrate, with pride and joy, the journeys of our Confirmands – who help all of us remember that Torah is alive, and that our tradition continues to unfold in their hands and in our shared future.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Back in 2019, when we began the process of restoring our Holocaust Memorial scroll, we discussed the possibility of using the ‘extra’ Torah scroll that will come out of our Ark to help support a community that could really use one of their own. A few months ago we received a request on behalf of a newly formed Reform community in Valencia, Spain who would really love to be able to celebrate Shabbat and Festivals by reading from a Torah scroll! As you may have heard, the TE Board has unanimously supported this donation! The scroll required some restoration, and we were excited to welcome Torah Scribe, Rabbi Kevin Hale, to TE at the end of April.
Now that the Torah is ready to be used again, we will honor its impact on TE history as we say our communal ‘goodbye’ by reading the 10 Commandments from it at our Erev Shavuot service on Sunday, June 1 at 7:30 pm. Shavuot is the celebration of the receiving of Torah on Mount Sinai, and we will use this opportunity to read from this scroll at TE for the final time, before it begins the journey to its new home in Valencia, Spain. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the past and look to the future than helping a Jewish community obtain a Torah. What an honor and a blessing it is for TE to be in the position to do so!
Olga and I just returned from accompanying nine (!) TE teens at the L’taken seminar of the Religious Action Center in Washington, DC . The Bernard and Audre Rapoport L’Taken Social Justice Seminar is designed to both expose teens to a variety of public policy issues and explore the Jewish values that inform the Reform Movement’s advocacy around these issues.
We are grateful to TE’s Rabbi Brieger Youth Fund, Jewish Foundation of Greater New Haven, and Barbara Rosenthal Memorial Fund for making this trip possible for our teens. Abby, Izzy, Avery, Ava, Nessah, Nadav, Max, Aitan and Sam had an incredible time. Below are a few brief excerpts from their reflections on their experience.
… It was an amazing once-in-a-lifetime experience… I did not realize how powerful all of the activities I participated in would be, and how deeply they would all affect me.
… If I were to talk to the next group of people to go on the DC trip I would tell them to go into it with an open mind. I went into the trip not knowing what to expect and I went with the flow I feel that I really grew as a person and also grew closer with all of my friends from TE and even made new friends. At the Holocaust museum I learned a lot of new information and even though it was at times sad, I feel that it gave me a much deeper understanding of the Holocaust. I felt like I grew so much in this experience and now have a clearer understanding on what I can do to help those in my community, my town and Jewish community…
… If I had to pick one word to describe the L’taken experience I would pick empowering. We did things from lobbying our elected officials, to eating out and skating downtown, to visiting the Holocaust museum. The activity that stuck with me the most was the Holocaust museum, the thing that left me speechless was the pure sadness and curiosity it gave me. I leave this trip with more knowledge and memories that I will take with me and use in my daily life. I would highly encourage future students to go on this trip…
…This trip had an impact on me in three ways. First it made me feel more connected to my Judaism by being able to go to services and learning about our history when going to the holocaust museum. I also got to learn about civic issues, from mental health to abortion, I got to get deeper understanding and care about the issue more. I also got to make new friends from different congregations and having a good time. This was a great trip…
…Now, on the train ride back to New Haven, I cannot overemphasize how thankful I am for the experience I had. I’ve been in classes like 21st Century Democracy, Constitutional Law, gone on trips to DC, and had other educational experiences relating to our legislative process. However, L’Taken this winter was the most hands-on, real, experience I’ve had. I was definitely a bit nervous before going to capitol hill today (Monday), but the feeling of being able to walk into the building and offices of my representatives, and tell them about how I feel and what I want them to do was incredibly empowering….
…L’ taken has been an overall great, educational experience and I greatly appreciate the opportunity to go on this trip… As I shared with my peers, rabbi and Morah Olga, the Holocaust museum made me start thinking about how one person that can make such a huge impact on everything someone has ever known… For the rest of the weekend I kept this in the back of my mind, during my activities and writing my speech I remembered that I can be the person that changes something that I believe in but for a positive change…
“It’s been a tough few weeks, and a tough couple of months, and a really tough year…” The world is on fire, the Jewish world is still reeling from the events of October 7th and the aftermath, and our TE community has recently suffered a few major losses of our loved ones. Even in the midst of the joyous season of Festivals and celebrations, it’s that much harder to find excitement and joy this year. And yet, Jews are eternal optimists —and so we work extra hard and continue to look for ways to make the world just a little better than we found it …
By the time this article reaches you, I will be in Krakow, Poland—returning after nearly 3 years of war to support the Ukrainian refugees, this time accompanied by Robert Farbman—our two-person volunteer team. The need is still there and so is the anxiety over the war and the future. We cannot change the realities on the ground, but we can help support volunteers at the JCC Krakow, who have been serving the most vulnerable refugees for so long. I am truly grateful to TE leadership and membership for all your support and encouragement. While Robert’s and my language skills make us a bit more useful, we are doing this on behalf of all of us at TE. As in the past, we will try and post brief reports on our TE Facebook page, so please check it out!
Back in 2019, when we began the process of restoring our Holocaust Memorial scroll, we discussed the possibility of using the ‘extra’ Torah scroll that will come out of our Ark to help support a community that could really use one of their own. A few weeks ago, I received a request on behalf of a newly formed Reform community in Valencia, Spain who would really love to be able to celebrate Shabbat and Festivals by reading from a Torah scroll! I am excited to report that the TE Board has unanimously supported this donation! The scroll will require some restoration and there will be an opportunity for TE members to learn with the scribe and to observe the process. While the exact dates are still only at the planning stage, there is much excitement among TE members who are looking forward to journeying to Spain to bring the Torah scroll to its new home. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the past and look to the future than helping a Jewish community obtain a Torah. What an honor and a blessing it is for TE to be in the position to do so!
Here’s to a New Year 2025 filled with many more inspiring and exciting opportunities to make our world just a little better.
