Shabbat – VaYeitzei – Dec 7, 2019
I
can’t thank Stefanie and Saul and the Gala Committee enough for all the work
they have done to make this such a successful and meaningful weekend. You all
know that I am an introvert – which is hard for a rabbi to be – and I prefer
not to be in the limelight. But for all the good feelings and the strong sense
of community that we feel today, it was worth it for me to be outside my
comfort zone.
I
wanted to just comment briefly about a verse from this morning’s portion and
connect it to some of the thoughts and feelings I have on marking this
milestone in my career. The portion begins with what seems to be an innocuous
comment – ויצא
יעקב מבאר שבע ויבא חרנה – Jacob left Beer Sheva and traveled to
Haran. Normally we wouldn’t give that statement a second thought, but the
medieval rabbinic interpreters found reason to comment. Every where else in the
Torah we are told of a person travelling to somewhere or we are told that they
have left some place. This is the only time that we are told that someone has
left and is travelling to a particular place. It has to mean something for the
Torah to highlight both departure and arrival. Though the commentators mainly
focused on the character of the person and the affect the person had on that
place, I rather like to think about it differently. The focus on both leaving
and arriving must mean that no matter where we are headed in life, we can’t
help but have our history with us. New experiences are always based on previous
events and who we are today is always determined by what we did yesterday. Our
past informs our present.
It
turns out this weekend is a significant date for our
shul and for my family and me. On this weekend 25 years ago Rabbi Martin
Halpern passed away. It was Friday evening and Zev & Jerry came to my house
to tell me the news. I walked back to their home and together we recited psalms
in Rabbi Halpern’s presence. Then I went to shul and informed the congregation
at shabbat services. The funeral was held in shul on that Sunday morning.
But
that’s not all that happened that weekend. That Saturday night Lenore and I and
our family celebrated Aliza’s baby naming. We had invited the entire
congregation to celebrate Havdalah and a brief service welcoming her into our
family and the Jewish community. It was of course a wonderful event and we were
grateful that so many of you celebrated with us.
And
still that’s not all that happened that weekend. My parents were of course with
us for shabbat for the baby naming and after shabbat they heard from a nurse at
the nursing home in Philly that my grandmother had passed away over shabbat. So,
as we finished celebrating a new life in our family, our family had to plan a
funeral for my last surviving grandparent. So today, almost exactly 25 years to
the day after those incredibly joyous and sad events, we are gathered together
again – my personal family and my shul family – and I can’t help but see this
celebration today, on that same weekend, as other than auspicious.
In
hindsight, that weekend served to foreshadow many other tragic events that
year. Just two months later Nathan Rubinstein – Rita’s husband and our shul’s beloved
gabbai – passed away. On Mother’s Day I officiated at three funerals. On
Father’s Day I officiated at past president Siggy Sach’s funeral. And at the
end of July we all were present for the horrific Goff family funerals.
I
don’t mean to put a damper on the celebration this weekend – I really don’t.
But I want you to know how much those tragic events – mixed with joyous events
too (there were weddings and bnai mitzvah that year too) – affected our
relationship as shul and rabbi and influenced my work – our work – together. I
often think back on those events and even though they were 25 years ago I think
they only happened yesterday – that’s how vivid and fresh they are in my mind.
I also recognize
that it’s in sadness and crisis that relationships are tested. We are put to
the test emotionally and spiritually and we need to know that we can rely on
people for support and comfort. I didn’t have any magic formula or words that
year that could make the horror go away. But I was there for you and I did my
best to offer comfort and support. And Lenore and I certainly felt the love and
joy from you. That year we – Lenore and I - knew that we found a loving and
blessed community and we knew that we were fortunate to be here.
On
his way from Beer Sheva to Haran, Jacob camped out for the night and had a
dream of a ladder with angels ascending and descending on it. When he awoke,
Jacob not only knew he was in a sacred place, but he knew that God was with
him. So too I have felt that we are a sacred community. Our work has always
been with God and tikkun olam in mind. Together we have shared a commitment to
our sacred heritage and have strived to welcome everyone on our Jewish journey.
Thank
you for the trust you placed in me and I pray that we can continue to be
inspired and blessed.
Sunday Dec 8, 2019
As
I said yesterday in shul, I can’t thank Stefanie Levy and the entire Gala
Committee enough for all their work in making every aspect of this weekend as
beautiful, special and as fun as it has been. Thank you to all who contributed
ads, to all who sponsored this event and to all of you for being here to
celebrate with me. I want to acknowledge two people who are here tonight.
First, our oldest member of the congregation – Sylvia Potash. Thank you for
being here. And to my friend and colleague Rabbi Ravid Tilles. Thank you for
flying in today and being here to celebrate with me. Of course, I can’t thank
my family enough – my parents, my mother in law, sister in law and brother in
law, my beautiful children, and my new family - my daughter in law and her
parents for being here too. Being a rabbi is an … interesting job and I thank
you for understanding that and supporting me. The biggest thank you, though,
goes to Lenore who 33 years ago said she knew what she was getting into and, in
light of all aspects of this career, has been my greatest supporter and my
rock. In many ways I wouldn’t be here today without her. I love you very much.
Though
this weekend has been about me and my 25 years as your rabbi, I’d rather view
this weekend as a celebration of our partnership. I couldn’t have reached this
milestone without you. Synagogues need rabbis and rabbis need synagogues and I
feel extremely fortunate that our partnership has been as meaningful and
enriching for so long.
Upon
reflecting on these past 25 years I can’t help but remember all those in our
congregation who have passed away. Of all those people, I would like to
acknowledge two this evening. Each represented a different aspect of our
congregation and by focusing on them I think we can be inspired. They served as
role models for me and I think for us as a congregation. In no way do I mean to
disregard the many other past presidents, leaders, and congregants who have
passed away. They all are still dear to us and are held in high esteem. But I
think that we can agree that these two deserve special mention tonight.
Cantor
Gershon Levin was a cherished partner of mine on the bima. His extraordinary
voice not only enhanced our services but brought tremendous spirituality too.
To this day I still relive his beautiful rendition of u-ne-taneh tokef on the
high holidays and especially the remarkably dynamic and moving duet with his
daughter Dahlia. But more than his talent on the bima, I remember Gershon for
his humanity. He wasn’t a diva – he was grounded, he was humble, he was a
mensch. Another vivid memory I have is of him helping a senior congregant who had
a disability wrap his tefillin. The menschlichkeit that was the foundation of
his work serves as an example to me and my work with you. I have been
privileged to work with many executive directors, cantors, educators and
teachers over the years and we all strived and continue to strive to do the
best we can to serve you with as much humanity and humility as possible.
One
of this evening’s sponsors – Maury/Moish Potosky – passed away suddenly last
week. As I said at his funeral last Tuesday, Moish was a rare individual who
not only served as president of our shul but also was just as dedicated to
attending and participating in shabbat, holiday and weekday services. He served
as a role model to many of our current leaders who also read Torah, attend
services, lead shiva minyanim and do many other tasks not necessarily
associated with serving on the board or executive committee. We all miss Moish
and our thoughts are with Charlotte as she is in mourning. I am confident that
his life of service and observance will be a legacy to which we all can aspire.
Together,
Gershon and Moish highlight for me what it means to be Jewish and what it means
to be a leader. They brought their skills and talents to shul every day in a
dedicated, beautiful and humble way. They taught me that no task in the shul
was too menial, no ritual too mundane. In fact, they both saw opportunities for
meaning and spirituality in everything they did. I only pray that I have
reflected some of their characteristics in my work with you and I also pray
that they continue to serve as role models for us.
As
I said yesterday morning, I don’t like the spotlight. I know that as a rabbi
that seems strange, but I really mean it. I entered rabbinical school 35 years
ago with a desire to learn more about my cherished Jewish heritage so that I
could share my passion and love of Judaism with you. I love being Jewish and I
find great satisfaction and fulfillment in our tradition. I think that Judaism,
interpreted in a modern way, can provide the spirituality, community and
guidance we need to navigate this cruel and chaotic world. Our congregation is
built on warmth and relationship. It conducts its business according to
religious values. We see our mission as being a place that is open and
welcoming to all and we strive to be a place where we can grow and thrive
together. Each and every one of you has been an integral part of that plan and
I have been blessed to have worked in partnership with you. With humility, with
a devotion to our sacred Jewish heritage I pray that we can continue to grow
together, and may we continue to serve the Jewish community with love and
compassion. Thanks again to all of you, and as Moses blessed Joshua 3000 years
ago, חזק ואמץ
– may we be strong and of good courage in our years ahead together. Amen.
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