Category: Rabbi’s page

As many of you know, I have just returned from spending a week in Poland as a volunteer. The Jewish Federations of North America (JFNA) and American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) had asked for Russian and Ukrainian speaking clergy to travel to Poland, Hungary and Moldova to support the Jews fleeing war in Ukraine, to help them celebrate Passover, and lift their spirits. I have spent a week on the ground, visiting multiple refugee centers, running programs for adults, playing with kids, sharing simple meals, and listening to stories. I have also tried, as much as I could, to offer some support to the volunteers and professionals on the ground, helping to run the response to this humanitarian crisis unprecedented in Europe since WWII.

Armed with a credit card and your incredible generosity, I also went shopping multiple times in different towns for clothing, shoes, medications, general supplies, washing powder, plates and cups, toilet paper, snacks and sweets and treats, board games for kids and adults, shampoo and body wash, handheld tablets and a printer/scanner; not to mention the small toys, clothing and art supplies that were collected prior to my departure – each center had their own needs, and I followed the lead of the local volunteers. The needs are great and varied, and while all of this is but a drop in the ocean, every little helps.

Most of my time was spent in the safety and relative calm of hotels and residential centers – with few exceptions, most people had escaped the war weeks ago, and had a chance to recover from the ordeals of bomb shelters and crammed trains and walking, sometimes for days, across the border. One could easily be fooled by the “normalcy” of our interactions, but most of it was paper-thin, as people clutched their phones, checking in regularly with their loved ones who were left behind – some in the army and territorial defense units, others (especially men 18-60) simply unable to leave the country. The news and personal stories came flooding in, people hearing from friends and neighbors, anxious and desperate for some good news. There was a lot of waiting and trying to figure out what comes next: do they wait for the war to end and go home, do they have family they can join elsewhere in the west, or is it time to consider a more permanent form of immigration?

Most of the volunteers and coordinators of this work, as well as psychologists working to help people cope with all this trauma, are themselves refugees! Two months ago, all of these people have lived comfortable and modern lives – they had jobs, and homes, and families. They were college students and professionals; their lives subject to normal challenges and tensions. Some were better off than others, of course; some lived in big cities and others in small towns and villages; some relied on public transport and others owned big homes and comfortable cars; some worked two jobs and some went on regular family vacations. Most had mere hours to pack; some didn’t even get a chance to go home – when the bombs started falling, people ran for safety. All of the stories of people running from war and violence with nothing but a shirt on their backs were no longer the stuff of family lore – these are the stories of today. A young mother entertains a cutie pie 1-year-old boy (who is so sweet and smiles a lot!) – and I am suddenly overwhelmed by the generational trauma, thinking back to my father as a 1-year-old, headed east on a train in 1941, never to see his father alive again… I smile and offer some support, and a small toy – and I pray that this boy and his family are kept safe from harm.

I am struck by the resilience of the people who can put aside their own trauma and go help others – it’s easier to navigate your own uncertainty when you are busy helping someone else.

I get a chance to celebrate Shabbat with this multitude of people – Jews, non-Jews, some joyfully singing along to familiar melodies, others encountering Shabbat and any form of Jewish observance for the first time. I can sense that there is a small measure of comfort and spiritual support that people receive from our gathering, and I am grateful for the opportunity to be there for them – and for myself. I return home, to my family and to TE, grateful for the opportunity to serve, knowing that I will carry these stories with me for the rest of my life.

Judith Kaplan, at age twelve, became the first woman to celebrate a Bat Mitzvah on March 18, 1922. Judith was the oldest daughter of Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, the founder of Reconstructionist Judaism. Believing that girls should have the same religious opportunities as their brothers, Rabbi Kaplan arranged for his daughter to read Torah on a Shabbat morning at his synagogue, the Society for the Advancement of Judaism.

100 years in Jewish history is not a very long time, of course. And yet, the 100^th anniversary of the first-ever bat mitzvah offers us an opportunity to reflect on how much the world, and the Jewish world, have changed since then.

The revolutionary act of a BAT mitzvah did not immediately change the Jewish world – it took a while for various Jewish movements to fully embrace this life cycle moment in all its beauty (each within its own understanding and style). At one point, as bat mitzvah celebrations became common in Reform and Conservative synagogues, many of the women who grew up in the previous generations embraced the new ritual and celebrated Bat Mitzvah as adults – learning to read from the Torah and taking their rightful place on the bimah. At Temple Emanuel, a few groups of women joined the Bat Mitzvah class with Rabbi Brieger in the late 1980s and through the 1990s, and many of the wonderful Torah chanters who regularly take on this holy task at TE were trained as part of that effort and got to celebrate this special occasion as part of a larger group, forming life-long friendships in the process.

In addition, generations of Jewish women grew up celebrating this life cycle event by learning to chant and being called up to the Torah, same as the boys, in a truly egalitarian manner. At Temple Emanuel we are blessed to have the mixture of chanters on our bimah, both the ones who had their bar and bat mitzvah at the age of 13, and those who only had the opportunity to do so as adults (I, of course, am included in that latter category, having celebrated my Bar Mitzvah at the age of 27, the day before my Rabbinic ordination – but that is a different story).

As we celebrate this special anniversary on March 18^th, I have invited all the women who celebrated their adult b’not mitzvah at TE to share an aliya together, a mini reunion. Another aliya will be shared by many of those girls and women who grew up at TE (or other synagogues) and had their b’not mitzvah ceremonies at 13. I hope that you mark your calendars and join us for this very special occasion, celebrating the reality that was once revolutionary, and now very much a part of Jewish life!

The world continues to change, and we continue to evolve with it. While these days we don’t think about Bat Mitzvah as something unusual, there are new realities that warrant our consideration: how do we welcome teens (and adults) to encounter the Torah while recognizing their different understanding of gender, and what adjustments to the language and the ritual we need to consider to make these rituals inclusive and welcoming. We stand on the shoulders of giants; our ancestors did not shy away from the challenges they faced, and we are all able to experience the richness of our tradition in a deeper and more meaningful way as a result. I am confident that we will continue to engage with both modernity and tradition, constantly shaping and renewing our commitment to Jewish life and practice.

I know that there are a number of TE members who have not had a b’nei mitzvah celebration – some did not grow up Jewish and converted to Judaism as adults; others grew up in Jewish families that were not part of a religious community; others perhaps did not have a ceremony for a different reason. I would like to use this anniversary of the first Bat Mitzvah to offer an invitation: if you would like to join the Adult B’nei Mitzvah class at Temple Emanuel this coming year, to learn to chant from the Torah and to celebrate this special ritual, please send me a note – I think the time has come for us to have this special program at TE once again!

The Festival of Chanukkah celebrates a historic moment of dedication – or rather, of re-dedication of the Temple in Jerusalem by the Maccabees, following a successful revolt against the Syrian Greeks in 164 BCE. The fighting was still ongoing as they proceeded to clear out the Temple, remove the idols and re-kindle the Temple Menorah. We retell the story every year, recounting the struggle and the unlikely victory that allowed our ancestors to thrive as Jews in our land once again – a powerful and inspiring story. 

While the most well-known explanation for the 8 days of Chanukkah comes from the Talmudic story of the cruse of oil, the Book of Maccabees offers us a different reason for the duration of the Festival: the Maccabees had spent a long time in their hideouts and caves as they waged war against the Greeks, and they missed out on many of the celebrations that formed a big part of their Jewish identity. The most recent (and beloved) Festival they missed was Sukkot (which lasts 7 days plus one more – 8 days in total!). Not only that, when the First Temple was built in Jerusalem by King Solomon, the dedication was celebrated over the course of the Festival of Sukkot! I suppose they could have waited until the following year, but their desire to restore the Jewish rights and customs was so strong that they created a brand new Festival of re-dedication!

It struck me that this is the year when we all can feel a little bit like the Maccabees – we have missed out on so much of the joy of communal gathering and Jewish rituals and celebrations over the last year and a half, hunkered down in our homes, grateful for the technology that has allowed us to maintain at least some form of our community. Having reentered the sanctuary just a few weeks ago, we are giddy with the excitement of being together again. Just like the Maccabees, though, we don’t get to relax just yet – the pandemic is still here, and while the infection rates are a little better than they were, we are not yet able to breathe a sigh of relief, and have to be careful as we cautiously begin to return to our traditional ways.

The Maccabees were very much the traditionalists of their time, yet they were also able to adjust to the realities of modernity, and used their Jewish creativity, too. They gifted us with Chanukkah, a most beloved Jewish Festival, that offers us light in the time of darkness; that lifts our spirits and fills our hearts with joy. And so, this year we will once again come together in our sanctuary and celebrate Chanukah, complete with candles and the TE band! There will be numerous precautions, including masks and distancing. We will not gather all our chanukkiot in the middle, but instead will spread the light all across the building – Sanctuary, Kiddish Lounge and the Social Hall! Last but not least, we will not be able to hold our wonderful Chanukkah dinner the way we have always done – but our wonderful volunteers are working on some exciting ideas, so watch the Shofar blast in the next few weeks! We will adjust to the new realities, and of course, we will make sure that those who are not able to make it in person can celebrate with their TE community – by bringing their chanukkiot to Zoom and joining the community virtually. 

I cannot wait to celebrate this Festival of Lights with all of you!

The arrival of the month of Elul in the Jewish calendar is always tinged with both excitement and sadness. The summer is beginning to wind down, and even though we may still have a few weeks of summer weather, fall is on the horizon, and with it the return of “regular” routines for many of us.

Of course, we continue to live in a world in which there’s nothing regular about our daily lives! The pandemic continues to challenge us in ways we never could have imagined — testing our resilience, our adaptability, and our creativity. The new “normal” means that kids are about to go back to school, commuters go back to battling the usual traffic volumes, and sooner or later the evenings become cooler as well.

In the Jewish calendar, the arrival of the month of Elul is a signal to switch spiritual gears. It reminds us that Rosh Hashanah is on its way, followed closely by Yom Kippur — and thus there’s no better time to begin the process of introspection, also known as ‘heshbon hanefesh’, accounting of the soul. How was my last year? Did I reach the goals I set out for myself? Did I remember to be kinder; to act justly; to color my actions in this world with Jewish values?

Did I fail? (I know I failed – I am a flawed human being!) And more importantly, when I did fail, how did I respond? Did I seek to fix my own mistakes? Did I acknowledge my failures and look for ways not to repeat them? One of the fundamental ideas we begin to consider with the arrival of Elul is how we can strive to rise above our flawed human nature to being a better version of ourselves. We begin this spiritual work ahead of time, and we continue throughout the festive season of High Holy Days, culminating in a day-long observance of Yom Kippur.

I always look forward to the High Holy Days with excitement; seeing so many TE members together in one room celebrating our ancient traditions fills my heart with joy. This year, the reality of the pandemic is once again preventing us from gathering safely, and so we will use technology to come together instead: on Zoom or via livestream, as well as meeting outside for a few smaller services. We will hold a Rosh Hashanah seder once again on the eve of Rosh Hashanah, an experience that so many of us found incredibly meaningful and inspiring last year. We will gather outside for tashlich, and (please God) we will gather in and around the TE sukkah later this month. In short, we will do what we do best – celebrate our Jewish traditions, our heritage and our way of life. May our journey of introspection this year bring us new insights into our own lives. May our holy day celebration be filled with meaning and joy.

Shanah Tovah — a sweet, happy and joyous 5782 to you all!

(This is a revised version of an article that previously appeared in the Shofar in the Fall of 2018.)

We have lived through a pandemic. No, we are not yet done with Covid-19 – it will continue to affect the world and our lives for some time yet, but at least as I write this column, the CT vaccination rates continue to rise, and the infection transmission rate allows us to begin to go about our normal lives with far fewer restrictions. Our leadership is looking carefully at the rapidly changing situation and is adjusting our procedures and policies on a regular basis. There is a very good possibility that we will be able to enjoy the High Holy Days in a much more familiar way this September, which fills my heart with joy and excitement (as well as makes me a little anxious, to be sure).

As we begin to re-enter the world once again, we begin to ‘breath out’ ever so slowly. The last 15 months have not been easy, and we all had to learn to give up so much of our lives, so many things that we take for granted on a daily basis. In synagogue life, we have successfully transferred most of what we did completely online, trying to keep the sense of community, of Jewish practice and of belonging – despite the obvious challenges. All of us cannot wait to say ‘good riddance’ to having to be alone at home, instead of singing together on Shabbat in the beautiful TE sanctuary. The anticipation of High Holy Days in our sanctuary is palpable! And yet, I also know that this past year we have developed new skills, as well as new understanding of what Jewish ritual is, and how to incorporate it into our lives. As we rush to resume the normalcy we so crave, let us not forget some of the positive things we have created for ourselves and our families in this difficult year of the pandemic.

We couldn’t come together in our sanctuary to light the shabbat candles – and so many families have begun to do so at home. Some of our older members don’t feel quite comfortable driving at night, but were able to come and join Shabbat services regularly throughout the year using zoom. Many of us have reimagined the use of our home space, not only to include a place to work, but also to create a space to pray and to mark sacred occasions. A number of people developed new routines, checking in on each other on a regular basis. Some of our students showed better results with Hebrew learning when working online with less distraction – these are but few examples of creativity that emerged from the disruption.

Nor is this kind of transformation really new. My teacher, Rabbi Lionel Blue z’l, suggested that following the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem by the Romans, the focus of Judaism has shifted from the splendor and formality of the Temple in Jerusalem into every Jewish home: ‘The father became a priest, the mother a priestess, and the dining room table an altar… The candles, the clothes, the white of the tablecloth brought the holiness and mystery of tremendous events into the surroundings of daily life. In the world of rabbinic Judaism, the synagogue emphasized doing and knowing, but the home was concerned with being, with memory, and experience.’[1]

As we prepare to return to the world of the synagogue that we have all missed so much, let us retain some of that Jewish holiness we have managed to bring back into our homes, our mikdash mei’at, or ‘small sanctuary’. As we figure out when and how we will be able to share big meals at TE, let us reach out to a few friends – old or new – and invite them into our homes for a small Shabbat or Festival meal. Above all, let us remember to cherish the good things we have figured out this year, even as we once again embrace the world we have missed so much.

---

[1] Blue, Lionel ‘To heaven with Scribes and Pharisees: the Jewish Path to God’, 1975:38

“Resilience is often described as a personal quality that predisposes individuals to bounce back in the face of loss. Resilient leaders, however, do more than bounce back—they bounce forward.” (Elle Allison, “The Resilient Leader”)

Over the years I have learnt great many things from my mentor, Rabbi Mark Winer. He was (and remains) a great mentor – he would always say: ‘learn from everything I do, especially from things YOU think I am doing wrong!’ Perhaps the most important lesson I have learned from Mark is how institutions should act in times of trouble: leading not from fear but with vision. While it is entirely understandable to respond to a crisis of any kind by circling the wagons and holding off on doing things that may cost money (holding back, cutting programs), it is often the wrong thing to do – if we lead with the vision we need to use the times of crisis to re-commit to the key elements of our work, improve and expand upon it. When the crisis is over, the renewed strength and resilience of the community will be the beneficiary of the forward thinking.

As we begin to emerge (please God!), slowly and carefully, from the physical, mental, financial and spiritual devastation of a pandemic, I am grateful to the leadership of TE and to all our members for not only supporting each other and our community at this time of trial, but also for continuing to be true to our vision and our mission of community building, Jewish learning and Tikkun Olam.

A few years ago we began to address the urgently growing need for space in our school, as well as our continued desire to transform spaces within TE to better reflect our welcoming nature, and to respond to the needs of our community. As we were about to begin the construction, the pandemic hit… We could have said ‘let’s wait and see’, and delay the project, but if we did so, we would have found ourselves today getting ready to re-enter the building with severe shortage of classroom space. Instead, today we are ready to ‘bounce forward’ – with two spacious new classrooms, with a welcoming Kiddush lounge and a redesigned lobby, that creates multiple spaces for TE members young and old (and everyone in-between:) to enjoy each other’s company at the oneg after the service or during Religious school.

None of this would be possible without the resilient leadership of our synagogue community, and without the crucial support of all of our members. I am grateful and honored to serve alongside TE leaders who engage in building and sustaining our community every day. Chazak, chazak v’nitchazek!

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!