Categories
Books CCAR Press High Holy Days

From Lament to Hope: Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar on ‘Unfolding: A High Holy Day Companion’

The High Holy Days invite us to pause, reflect, and reconnect. In this interview, Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar shares the inspiration behind her book Unfolding: A High Holy Day Companion and offers insights for approaching the season with intention, openness, and hope.

What inspired you to write Unfolding: A High Holy Day Companion?

I was commissioned by Rabbi Amy Wallk to write a daily message for her congregation for the month of Elul through the holidays. I found the practice of contemplating a daily passage both grounding and uplifting. So, I wrote Unfolding as a companion rather than a commentary. I wanted to create a book that would help us open our hearts as we consider the themes of the High Holy Day season. They are short passages we can read with a cup of coffee early morning, while we are out in nature, before we sleep at night. Whenever we can grab a moment to pause. To think. To feel. To consider.

What does “unfolding” mean to you?

This season invites us to uncover who we are meant to be beneath the distractions, fears, expectations, and disappointments that accumulate over a lifetime. We carry so much: grief, regret, uncertainty, longing. We long to carry hope and joy.

Unfolding is a lifelong spiritual practice of the cultivation of inner strength and compassion. We practice listening for the whispers of our Divine purpose and recognize the obstacles we cling to. We learn to listen to others with less judgement and fear. We learn the power of grace, chesed. We unfold into a kinder and a more compatible way of living.

The book follows the journey from Tishah B’Av through Yom Kippur. Why did you choose these beginning and end points?

The spiritual work of the High Holy Days doesn’t begin on Rosh HaShanah. It begins much earlier.

Tishah B’Av asks us to face loss, brokenness, and the ways life has unraveled. It is the day when we acknowledge that something has been shattered in the world, in our relationships, or within ourselves.

Only after we have the courage to face what is broken can we begin the slow movement toward healing. Such reflection softens our heart.

Elul offers us a full month to consider the spiritual principle of love: our concept of Divine love, how we can be more loving in our relationships. How we can be more loving to ourselves. The Song of Songs speaks of the Beloved. Elul invites us to understand what that means in our lives.

Then we are better prepared for Tishrei. To begin anew, to forgive, to accept forgiveness, to commit ourselves to a purposeful life, to live with meaning and intention.

Yom Kippur is the moment when we emerge with clearer vision, an open heart, and the courage to begin again.

The seven weeks between Tishah B’Av and Rosh HaShanah, and then the Ten Days of Awe, form one continuous spiritual journey: from devastation to possibility, from lament to hope, from fragmentation to wholeness.

If readers could carry one question, practice, or intention with them into the High Holy Day season after reading Unfolding, what would you hope it would be?

The High Holy Days are not about perfection, they are about paying attention. They invite us to notice where we have become disconnected, from God, from those we love, from our own deepest selves. We return home, back to basics so we can reconnect with ourselves.

I hope Unfolding becomes a companion, helping us to pause, breathe, listen more deeply, forgive more generously. To spend a few weeks considering our inner life and relationships. To consider curiosity over judgement, kindness over fear, determination over regret. A little more peace. A bit more joy. It’s a practice.

Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar is an author, poet, spiritual counselor, inspirational speaker, and rabbi emerita at Congregation B’nai Jehoshua Beth Elohim in Deerfield, IL. She is the author of Omer: A Counting, Amen: Seeking Presence with Prayer, Poetry, and Mindfulness Practice, and Unfolding: A High Holy Day Companion, all from CCAR Press.

Categories
Prayer

Jewish Blessings and Readings for the 25th Anniversary of the September 11 Attacks

Twenty-five years ago, on September 11, 2001, 2,977 people lost their lives at the World Trade Center in New York, the Pentagon in Virginia, and a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, in the most fatal act of terror on American soil. 

Twenty-five years later, we stand at the precipice of another year, as we welcome Rosh HaShanah at the same time that we remember one of the greatest tragedies of our time. 

Below, the Central Conference of American Rabbis has compiled prayers and readings by CCAR rabbis and CCAR Press authors to mark the 25th anniversary of September 11 and Rosh HaShanah. They may be included in services and ceremonies with attribution.

May these words remind us of the power of gathering in community, of renewing each other’s hope, of remembrance and reflection, and of moving forward—together.

Excerpt from “September 11, 2001: Crossing the Narrow Bridge,” by Rabbi Serge Lippe

“We began Rosh HaShanah services by singing the song ‘Kol HaOlam Kulo Gesher T’zar M’od’ based on the teaching of Reb Nachman of Bratzlav. The song is usually translated as ‘The entire world is but a narrow bridge the most important thing is not to be afraid at all.’

Reb Nachman’s original text isn’t about denying fear. It is about not allowing fear to freeze us in place.

I’m not sure how long we sang together, but it was a good while. I think every one of us felt caught up in the power of that song. Connected and reflective. Exercising spiritual muscles that had been locked and rigid for the past week. I could not move forward, I could not grieve, and I certainly could not comfort or lead if I remained locked in place denying, avoiding my own fear, pain, and loss. None of us can. 

Singing that song, I realized: We were in this together. My fears were real, but now acknowledged and shared with those who would help me—even as I helped them cross the bridge.”
—Rabbi Serge A. Lippe, from The Sacred Struggle: Jewish Responses to Trauma, edited by Rabbi Lindsey Danziger and Rabbi Benjamin David

Two Candles

On Shabbat we light two candles, one for
remembering Shabbat and one for observing Shabbat.
Today, we light two candles.
This one for Building One, This one for Building Two,
This one for the Pentagon and this one for Pittsburgh,
This one for the hundreds of firefighters and this one for the hundreds of police,
This one for all the men and this one for all the women
This one for all the girls and this one for all the boys,
And these candles for the husband and wife who leapt out of
the tower holding hands,
This one for our luck running out, this one for the New York skyline,
This one for the walking wounded, this one for the critically wounded,
This one for the survivors, this one for the dead,
This candle for Building One, this candle for Building Two.
—Rabbi Zoë Klein Miles; used by permission.

When Evil Darkens Our World

When evil darkens our world, let us be the bearers of light.
When fists are clenched in self-righteous rage, let our hands be open for the sake of peace.
When injustice slams doors on the ill, the poor, the old, and the stranger, let us pry the doors open.
Where shelter is lacking, let us be builders.
Where food and clothing are needed, let us be providers.
Where knowledge is denied, let us be champions of learning.
When dissent is stifled, let our voices speak truth to power.
When the earth and its creatures are threatened, let us be their guardians.
When bias, greed, and bigotry erode our country’s values, let us proclaim liberty throughout the land.
In the places where no one acts like a human being, let us bring courage; let us bring compassion; let us bring humanity.
—Rabbi Chaim Stern, z”l, from Mishkan HaNefesh: Machzor for the Days of Awe

A Prayer for Nonviolence

God of life and Maker of all creation, every act of violence in our world, in our communities, and in our homes, destroys a part of Your creation. 
Stir in our hearts a renewed sense of reverence for all life. 
Give us the vision, the wisdom, and the courage
to create a community of safety for our children. 
Guide us in Your ways so that we may break the cycle of violence. 

This we believe: that peace, love, and healing begin with us. 

Tonight, let us begin.
Amen.
—Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar, from Amen: Seeking Presence with Prayer, Poetry, and Mindfulness Practice

A Prayer of Courage and Consolation 

Holy one of blessing,
grant us the will to stand firm
in the face of evil and hostility,
not to be silent or afraid.
To work diligently and faithfully
to banish wickedness from the earth.

Holy One of Blessing,
grant us the courage and resolve
to speak when there is hatred,
to act when there is confusion,
to join with others in building a world of safety,
understanding, and acceptance.

Because there is hate, dear God, help us heal our fractured and broken world.

Because there is fear, dear God, grant courage and faith to those in need.

Because there is pain, dear God, bring healing to the shattered and wounded.

Because there is hope, dear God, teach us to be a force for justice and kindness.

Because there is love, dear God, help us to be a beacon of light and compassion.

As it is written:
Be strong and let your heart have courage. (Joshua 1:6)
Depart from evil, do good, seek peace and pursue it. (Psalm 34:15)
—Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar, from Amen: Seeking Presence with Prayer, Poetry, and Mindfulness Practice

At the Hand of Terror: A 9-11 Memorial Prayer

Source and shelter,
Grant a perfect rest under your tabernacle of peace
To those who died in the 9/11 attacks on the United States.
Remember the works of their hands
And the message of their hearts.
Grant their families peace and comfort for Your name’s sake
And for the sake of those who perished.
Bring an end to violence and terror,
Speedily, in our days.
May their memories be sanctified with joy and love.
May their souls be bound up in the bond of life,
A living blessing in our midst.
—Alden Solovy, tobendlight.com; used with permission.

Categories
Books CCAR Press High Holy Days

The Hard Work of ‘T’shuvah’: Alden Solovy on ‘Enter These Gates: Meditations for the Days of Awe’

Poet-liturguist Alden Solovy reflects on the inspiration behind Enter These Gates: Meditations for the Days of Awe, the call to do the hard work of t’shuvah, and finding new pathways into prayer during the High Holy Days.

What inspired you to write Enter These Gates: Meditations for the Days of Awe?

Love—simple as that. Love that our tradition holds us accountable. Love that our faith offers a path to repentance, forgiveness, and renewal. Love of the rich texture of our liturgy. Writing prayer-poetry is how I express my love for God, our people, and all of humanity. The High Holy Days offer a unique frame for that expression.

What does the book’s title represent as a metaphor for the High Holy Days?

The title plays off a central metaphor of the Days of Awe, that the gates of God’s mercy are open, that we stand before them with a choice. The title is, therefore, both an invitation and an imperative, perhaps even a plea, for each of us to strive for nearness to God, to seek the holy in the world, and to allow the divine in ourselves to bloom and to flourish.

How did October 7 and the subsequent war influence the book?

On that horrible day, this book was about 90 percent complete. The shock assault, the atrocities, the hostages, the terror, the subsequent war, each demanded a critical rethinking of the manuscript. I revised several prayer-poems, removed a few, and wrote important new pieces, such as “Forgiving God” and “Eileh Ezk’rah after October 7” to go along with those that uplift, like “Wildly Unimaginable Blessings” and “Sweet Cake.”

The book is described as a companion to Mishkan HaNefesh. How do you envision readers using Enter These Gates alongside the machzor during the High Holy Days?

The volume offers both rabbis and lay readers new alternative readings for use in prayer. I also envision it used as a set of study texts, as well as for personal meditation. Some congregations have placed the book in the pews to provide another “gateway” into prayer. I’m hoping readers will find blessing in these words, the edginess needed to do real t’shuvah, the blessing and solidity that holds us in these days of self-reflection.

If readers could carry one intention from Enter These Gates into this High Holy Day season, what do you hope it would be?

The High Holy Days offer a choice: to do the hard work of personal evaluation and growth or to simply go through the motions. Enter These Gates is a call to step into the journey. Let this book be your companion. Do the hard work of improving your relationships with God, self, and others. Enter the gates of yourself to discover the best of who you are and the best of who you will become.

Alden Solovy is a liturgist based in Jerusalem and a rabbinical student at Hebrew Union College. He is the author of This Grateful Heart: Psalms and Prayers for a New Day, This Joyous Soul: A New Voice for Ancient Yearnings, This Precious Life: Encountering the Divine in Poetry and Prayer, These Words: Poetic Midrash on the Language of Torah, and Enter These Gates: Meditations for the Days of Awe, all published by CCAR Press.

Categories
Books CCAR Press High Holy Days

A Thousand Sparks of Light: An Intention for Elul

As we enter the month of Elul, Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar, author of Unfolding: A High Holy Day Companion from CCAR Press, shares a reflection on beginning the journey toward the High Holy Days with intention, openness, and love.

Our holidays are based upon three layers of meaning. They draw their roots from history, their grounding from the land and people of Israel, and they are air to the spirits seeking transcendence.

I wrote Unfolding: A High Holy Day Companion because I needed to consider—to contemplate my place in the world, to dwell in beauty, to forgive and be forgiven. To breathe.

And so I begin on the ninth of Av. The history of this date is well known to us; we teach its events (including the fall of the two Temples) and consider their relevance for today. So relevant today. But as a student of the spirit, I was drawn to the third layer: the metaphor of destruction. I was looking for a spiritual trajectory that begins in the dust and ashes of hurt, of brokenness, of years of accumulated pain and disappointment. Lingering in those places softens the heart and opens our vulnerabilities, preparing us for a month-long contemplation of the Elul lessons of love—love of self, love of others, love of God. To be beloved.

Elul inevitably coincides with our secular busyness: the end of vacations and camp, the beginning of school and college, High Holy Day cue sheets and choir rehearsals. We forget to breathe. And yet, to begin again, to create again, to renew and revitalize and marvel at an ever-evolving creation—these are the spiritual themes of Rosh Hashanah, and we need that entire month to think about love. Then a quick ten days to repent, repent, repent, reaching toward Yom Kippur and her swinging gates of forgiveness and joyful living.

We teach what we need to learn. I have learned to sit by a window every day, or nearly, during the months leading up to the holiest days of the year. To offer air to my distracted spirit and prepare myself to change a little, to shift a bit, to better my days and deepen their purpose, their meaning.

From Unfolding: A High Holy Day Companion, I offer this intention as we take our place by the windows of meaning:

A Thousand Sparks of Light

I am a thousand sparks of light
and have traveled an ancient distance
of time and space.

I am connected to the Source.

I am a thousand sparks of light
carried upon waves of darkness—
chaotic void.

I am in formation.

And every day
I am invited to listen
for my calling

to be
and to do
and to create
and to love
and to forgive
and to remember

that I have traveled
a great distance
to be called

to say yes to life.

Rabbi Karyn D. Kedar is an author, poet, spiritual counselor, inspirational speaker, and rabbi emerita at Congregation B’nai Jehoshua Beth Elohim in Deerfield, IL. She is the author of Omer: A Counting, Amen: Seeking Presence with Prayer, Poetry, and Mindfulness Practice, and Unfolding: A High Holy Day Companion, all from CCAR Press.


Categories
CCAR Board Torah

Moses, Memory, and Inner ‘G’vurah’

As we begin a new book of Torah with D’varim, I find myself reflecting upon how many of us have walked through loss in the past year. Just last week marked my mother’s first yahrzeit, and I know that recently many of us have buried a parent, or someone deeply beloved, as well. Perhaps that is why this opening parashah feels especially poignant to me this year.

D’varim stands at the edge of a threshold. Moses is looking back over a lifetime and looking forward to a future he will never see. The Israelites stand poised to enter the Promised Land, but Moses—and the generation that began the journey with him—will not cross over with them.

Every year I come back to this text and find myself feeling sad for Moses. After all he has endured, all he has given, all he has carried, he never gets to arrive. And yet, perhaps that sadness comes from our modern assumption that the goal is always the destination. Moses seems to be teaching something more complicated. This year, while studying the parashah I got distracted by commentators and parables trying to explain why the Israelites and Moses were punished. Instead of focusing on the just nature of this “punishment,” I rather would like to focus on the journey.   

The book opens, “These are the words…” Such an understated beginning for what follows: Moses’s final act of leadership. His last great accomplishment is not another miracle, not another confrontation with Pharaoh, not even entry into the land. It is interpretation. It is memory. It is testimony.

He stands before the people and tells the story again. His last great lecture. Or three.  

As rabbis, we know that memory is never simply recollection. Memory is selection. Moses chooses what to emphasize, what lessons to draw, what wisdom his people will need when he is no longer there. His final gift is not a map. It is a framework.

And that, it seems to me, is an extraordinary act of g’vurah.

We often translate g’vurah as strength, but not the strength of conquest or domination. It is inner strength. Restraint. Courage. The capacity to accept what cannot be changed while continuing to give what only we can give.

Moses displays that kind of strength throughout D’varim. He accepts that Joshua will lead the people forward. He relinquishes authority. He recounts his own failures without defensiveness. He warns against concentrating too much power in a single leader and reminds the people to establish wise judges and shared systems of governance. His ego gradually yields to the future.

I think that may be one of the hardest spiritual tasks any of us ever face.

A few years ago, after my mother was diagnosed with cancer, I asked her what she still wanted to accomplish. It was actually my colleague Rabbi Dan Levin’s mentorship to me. Was there one more trip? One more item on the bucket list? One unfinished dream?

Her answer surprised me: There wasn’t anything.

She had traveled the world. She had built a family. She had lived a rich life. There was no great achievement left undone.

She simply wanted more time. She was not ready to go.  

More time to watch her grandchildren grow. More time to see who they would become. More birthdays, more simchahs, more ordinary days watching the nightly news with her dogs on her lap. Not because life had been incomplete, but because it had been meaningful.

I think Moses understands that longing. Standing on the plains of Moab, he surely wants more time. He surely wants to see what comes next. He wants to witness the fulfillment of promises that have defined his entire existence.

But instead of clinging to what he cannot have, he turns his attention to what he can still give.

That inner g’vurah.

One of the questions I encountered while preparing this reflection asked whether ignorance is sometimes preferable to knowledge. Is naiveté ever a blessing?

I think many of us know moments when it is. New parents often enter pregnancy and child-rearing with a measure of naiveté that allows them to move forward despite all the things that could go wrong. At bedsides, we have accompanied families who do not yet fully understand the diagnosis or the road ahead, and sometimes that limited knowledge gives them room to breathe, to hope, to be present.

But D’varim suggests that the Promised Land ultimately belongs not to the naive but to those who have learned from the journey. The wilderness generation carried burdens, traumas, and habits that could not make the crossing. Yet the lessons of the wilderness mattered. The memories mattered.

The challenge is discerning which memories must be carried forward and which must be released.

That, too, requires g’vurah.

One of the profound privileges of our rabbinate is that we accompany people through this work. We sit with congregants as they take stock of their lives. We help them tell their stories. We witness them passing on blessings, values, and memories to the next generation. Again and again, we stand with people who discover that the final task of life is not achieving immortality but transmitting legacy.

In that sense, all of us become a little like Moses.

None of us gets to enter every promised land. None of us gets to see the final chapter of the stories we begin. If we are fortunate, we catch a glimpse of the next generation taking up the torch. We offer our sermons, our teachings, our blessings, our love, and trust that they will travel farther than we can.

As I complete this year of firsts without my mother, I find myself startled by the small ways she remains present. I catch myself yawning exactly like her. I reach for the phone before remembering. A story from my childhood surfaces, and suddenly I realize that the only people who were there were my parents—and now I am the keeper of that memory.

There is sadness in that realization.

But there is also responsibility (an ocean of memories, an imperative to pass them down).  

And so Moses teaches. And blesses. And remembers.

And somehow, standing at the edge of everything he loves, he finds the strength to let go.

That may be the deepest expression of g’vurah of all.

Rabbi Stephanie Kramer serves on the CCAR Board of Trustees and is senior rabbi at The Temple, Congregation B’nai Jehudah, in Overland Park, Kansas. She shared this d’var Torah with the CCAR Board at their July 2026 meeting.

Categories
Books CCAR Press

Why Do We Get Married Under a Chuppah?

Rabbi Nancy Wiener, DMin, is the author of Beyond Breaking the Glass: A Spiritual Guide to Your Jewish Wedding from CCAR Press. In this excerpt, Rabbi Wiener explores the history and symbolism of the chuppah in Jewish wedding ceremonies.

At a Jewish ceremony, it is under the chuppah, the nuptial canopy, that the extraordinary transformation marked by kiddushin traditionally occurs. Originally, a bride’s arrival under the chuppah symbolized her entrance into her husband’s domain and becoming a member of her husband’s household. In the grand scheme of Jewish history, the central place of the portable chuppah at a Jewish wedding is fairly recent, dating only from sometime in the sixteenth century. Nonetheless, today in America, most Jews and many non-Jews recognize the chuppah as one of the most distinctive and enduring ritual objects and symbols of a Jewish wedding. As we explore some of the meanings that the chuppah has had and some of the forms that it has taken, perhaps you will be inspired to look at the chuppah in new and meaningful ways.

Chuppah literally means “covering.” This covering demarcates the holy space in which a Jewish couple affirms the sanctity of their relationship. In earlier times, when Jews often held weddings on market days, the chuppah was a physical means of distinguishing the special area in which the wedding ceremony occurred from the surrounding hubbub. In a very real sense, no matter where your wedding takes place, there will be inherent distractions for all who are present; the chuppah continues to focus attention upon you and the holy space in which your lives together will be transformed.

Chuppot (the plural) have taken a wide variety of forms, from the canopied couches for brides and grooms of medieval Central Europe, to an embroidered parochet, or ark cover, to simple but luxurious cloths, such as silks and velvets suspended on poles or draped over a couple’s shoulders. In some Jewish communities in Asia, a tallit was placed over the heads of the couple until after the Sheva B’rachot, when it was removed. In other communities, the bride’s family bought the groom a new tallit, which both sets of parents placed on their children’s heads at the start of the ceremony. Standing under a bower of flowers also has a long history. Unlike the case for many other Jewish ritual objects, there are no requirements for chuppot.

Today, from an egalitarian perspective, the chuppah is most commonly understood as a symbol of the new home that you are establishing together through your kiddushin. As such, your chuppah can convey some of the qualities you hope to enjoy in your future life together.

A large chuppah is reminiscent of the nomadic tents used long ago by our Jewish ancestors. Such a tent roof with no walls might seem to lack form and strength, much like the new family and the new home you are establishing. However, such a tent is also flexible; it can adapt to variable circumstances and withstand harsh, abrupt changes that a more rigid structure might not. Your new home can be filled with acts of love and kindness, a place in which guests are always welcome, as they were in the tents of our ancestors Abraham and Sarah.

Like the chuppah, your new home will be inhabited by you, surrounded by your family and friends, honored by representatives of the many communities to which you belong, and protected by the sheltering presence of God. Your chuppah may be of any size, so it is up to you to decide whether it will cover only you, you and the rabbi, you and your immediate families, or you and your entire wedding party. The options are numerous, as are the meanings you are choosing to convey. To help figure out the right size for you, ask yourselves: what is the relationship between you and your new home, you and your family, you and your community? Agreeing on answers to these questions can serve as a practical guide to your decision regarding the size of your chuppah.

In some communities it is customary for the chuppah to be freestanding; in others, it is hand-held by members of the wedding party. In either case, it is considered an honor to be a chuppah holder, whether the task is real or symbolic. Some communities own chuppot that members can rent or borrow. In areas with sizeable Jewish communities, florists have chuppot that they use or make.

Alternatively, many couples choose to make or buy their own, or they ask family or friends to join in creating one for (or with) them. As a ceremonial object, it is intended to heighten the beauty of your. marriage ceremony, to be a reflection of the enduring Jewish custom of hidur mitzvah, the embellishing of a holy act. Therefore, your chuppah can reflect your aesthetic sense; you can choose the design, the material, the decoration, and the poles. In ancient Jewish communities the poles were made from trees, a cedar for a boy and an acacia for a girl, which parents had planted when their children were born. There are many artists who design and make chuppot, either for or with the couple.

Rabbi Nancy Wiener, DMin, is the founding director of the Jacob and Hilda Blaustein Center for Pastoral Counseling at Hebrew Union College in New York. She is the author of Beyond Breaking the Glass: A Spiritual Guide to Your Jewish Wedding from CCAR Press.

Categories
Inclusion LGBT

Jewish Blessings and Reflections for Pride Month

As we enter into Pride Month, the CCAR reaffirms our commitment to and celebration of our LGBTQ Reform rabbis, their families, and the members of our Jewish and secular queer communities in America, Canada, Israel, and globally. The CCAR continues our advocacy for the equal rights, full inclusion, and safety of the LGBTQ community. And we continue our commitment to inclusive liturgy so that everyone feels welcome in our houses of worship and sees themselves reflected in the image of God.

Here, we share a blessing by CCAR Board Member Rabbi Daniel Mikelberg, as well as a prayer by Rabbi Denise Eger, from her groundbreaking book, Mishkan Ga’avah Where Pride Dwells: A Celebration of LGBTQ Jewish Life and Ritual (CCAR Press 2020), and “We Have Always Been” by Rabbi Dave Yedid, a powerful reflection on queer Jewish identity, resilience, and the sacred act of claiming space within tradition and community.

What Does the New Month Hold?, by Rabbi Daniel Mikelberg

On the eve of Rosh Chodesh, we often look to 1 Samuel 20:18-42 and the story of the friendship shared between David and Jonathan. With Pride month upon us, we feel anxious and unsettled, unsure of what days ahead will bring. We can seek inspiration from this beautiful bond, a chosen family, companions who pledge to serve one another in dangerous days. 

Jonathan said to him, “Tomorrow will be the new moon…” (1 Samuel 20:18)

We tell ourselves these words each day like a mantra, weighted down by trauma, we try our best to look forward not back.

But do we believe the call, might tomorrow be different, a respite from the pain?

For we feel helpless, unable to chart a renewed path.

David and Jonathan remind us, that is not the case, darkness need not overwhelm.

As for the promise we made to each other, may the Eternal be [witness] between you and me together. (1 Samuel 20:23)

Allied as one: trusting, creative, and strong, we are bound by a brit of love, the spirit of the Divine accompanies our travels.

We pledge to open our hearts, to explore a new Promised Land, built on the trust between neighbors and friends. The light that we all carry within shines bright and beams as one. 

Go in peace! For we have sworn to each other in the name of the Eternal…” (1 Samuel 20:41)

Yes, tomorrow will be the new moon, and we are ready to embrace this new day.

—Rabbi Mikelberg serves Temple Israel of Ottawa in Ottawa, Canada. He shared his journey to the Reform rabbinate and the privilege he feels championing inclusion in the synagogue and community at large.

A Prayer for LGBTQ People, by Rabbi Denise Eger

Holy One who made us all, tonight we celebrate the LGBTQ com-munity. Quench our thirst for acceptance of self. Help us to feel Your Divine Presence when others question the righteousness of our lives. Let us come to know that all things are possible in our lives: love and hope, caring and friendship and family. May those of us who are deep within the closet find courage and comfort through You. Bless our community and its leaders. Grant us, O God, health and prosperity. Keep us strong as we pursue justice and civil rights. Ease the pain of those who are ill, and inspire each of us to perform acts of loving-kindness and tzedakah each and every day. Fountain of life, we praise You and thank You for creating us in Your image.

וְנֹאמַר: אָמֵן.
V’nomar: amein.
And let us say: Amen.

—Rabbi Denise Eger is an activist, speaker, author of Mishkan Ga’avah Where Pride Dwells, and former CCAR President. She has made extraordinary contributions to the Reform rabbinate and the Jewish and secular LGBTQ community.

We Have Always Been

I look back into history,
pouring over our texts, sacred and profane,
searching
for some kind of opening
where I can see myself, where I can see us.

I search
and find
rejection from our communities and leaders,
our existence hidden, shamed, criminalized, excommunicated,
jailed, killed.

I keep searching
and catch a glimpse
of our vitality, our desire, our love, our bliss, our rebellion,
our chosen family.

In these glimpses I see a sliver of light
pouring out of the opening.
I sprint toward it—our past, our present, our future—
and, with all my might, break the door off its hinges.

I pant, breathless, on the other side.
I want to scream, but instead, I whisper: “We are here. We are here.”

We have always been.

—Rabbi Dave Yedid is a contributor to Mishkan Ga’avah Where Pride Dwells and serves Base Denver.

Categories
CCAR Convention Rabbinic Reflections

Connection, Reflection, Renewal: Reform Rabbis on the Gifts They Received at CCAR Convention 2026

Each year, the Central Conference of American Rabbis’ annual Convention brings together hundreds of Reform rabbis from across North America and beyond for a communal rabbinic experience difficult to replicate anywhere else. In the midst of demanding congregational and organizational lives, CCAR Convention offers CCAR members dedicated time for deep learning, professional development and skill building, and meaningful engagement with the critical questions facing Jewish life today. 

This year at CCAR Convention 2026 in the San Francisco Bay Area, over 400 Reform rabbis gathered for four days of davening, learning, connecting, and showing up for one another. They arrived carrying the weight of this moment: rising antisemitism, the strains on American democracy, and the very real demands of leading Jewish communities through an extraordinarily difficult time. They returned home renewed, reconnected, and ready to lead, with practical tools, fresh perspectives, and new ideas ready to apply in their communities. 

In addition to the programmatic richness of CCAR Convention, CCAR members consistently share that there is profound value of being in community with rabbinic peers who understand the unique challenges, responsibilities, and rewards of rabbinic leadership. As this year’s CCAR Convention reflections attest, CCAR Convention serves as both a professional resource and a source of renewal for Reform rabbis.

Rabbi Erica Asch
“Each year when I attend CCAR Convention, I feel like I get a chance to take a deep breath and reset. It is a time to connect with colleagues, to engage in meaningful learning, to deepen relationships, and to find joy. The skills I learned and the connections I make at Convention help me in my rabbinate throughout the year.”
—Rabbi Erica Asch serves Temple Beth El in Augusta, Maine and is the Immediate Past President of the CCAR


Rabbi Jeff Brown
“My biggest takeaway from Convention is the transformational impact of being in one room with so many cherished friends and colleagues. As we celebrate the rich diversity of rabbinates represented in the CCAR and at Convention, we also acknowledge that Reform rabbis are often the only ones who really ‘get’ the work we’re trying to do in the world—and the toll that it sometimes takes on us. There is so much strength and healing in being together.” —Rabbi Jeff Brown serves Scarsdale Synagogue-Temples Tremont and Emanu-El in New York and is the 2026 CCAR Convention Chair.

Rabbi Jason Fenster
“Alongside the joy of being with friends from around the globe, the camaraderie, and the laughter, is the gift of being a student again, learning with those who share in the complexities, challenges, and sweetness of rabbinic life. We have time for important conversations. Convention refills the tank of rabbinic calling and purpose. I came back this year buzzing with ideas, conversation to have with leaders, and renewed commitments to caring for the Jewish people and the wider community.” —Rabbi Jason Fenster serves Congregation Kol Ami in White Plains, New York.

Rabbi Rick Kellner
“The CCAR continues to be at the cutting edge of rabbinic growth and professional development. From conversations about future thinking, to big questions facing Jewish life, to diving deeper into the concerns we care so deeply about, CCAR Convention provides Reform rabbis opportunities to engage in meaningful conversation and connect to colleagues.” —Rabbi Rick Kellner serves Congregation Beth Tikvah in Worthington, Ohio and is President Elect of the CCAR.

Rabbi Stephanie Kramer
“I brought home so much from Convention—fresh ideas for re‑engaging our teens, new ways to deepen interfaith connections, and real excitement about so many things but especially ways to connect with teens. I’m inspired to build deeper, more meaningful connections with my congregants in times of need.” —Rabbi Stephanie Kramer serves The Temple, Congregation B’nai Jehudah in Overland Park, Kansas and also serves on the CCAR Board.

Rabbi Jacqueline Mates-Muchin
“It is hard to express how meaningful it was to be in a room where I didn’t have to explain the unique challenges of being a rabbi at this moment in history. This year, the CCAR Convention was particularly important for the comfort and support of colleagues.” —Rabbi Jaqueline Mates-Muchin serves Temple Sinai in Oakland, California and also serves on the CCAR Board.

Rabbi Daniel Mikelberg
“It’s easy to lament this moment in time: Our world is crumbling. However, gathering with colleagues at the CCAR Convention and learning from experts in the field, I returned home with hope that we will emerge from this dark period. Our strength and resilience are undefeatable. Reform rabbis are uniquely suited to hear the cries in our midst and march as one towards freedom.” —Rabbi Daniel Mikelberg serves Temple Israel of Ottawa in Ontario, Canada and also serves on the CCAR Board.

Rabbi Hernán Rustein
“CCAR Convention challenged us to describe Judaism using a new vocabulary. I am eager to explore how viewing Judaism as a ‘conversation’ can help us understand ourselves and explain our tradition to others—especially in a context where Jewish literacy is limited, and many non-Jews are interested in learning or even joining our community.” —Rabbi Hernán Rustein serves Temple Beth Shalom in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Rabbi Deena Silverstone
“I loved attending my first CCAR Convention and immediately felt so welcomed! The most impactful part of the experience was the connections I made with new colleagues, as well as the ones I deepened with classmates and friends. It was a gift to be surrounded by such thoughtful colleagues who lead their communities and organizations with wisdom and courage. I was invigorated by the ideas we shared, and I’m excited to stay connected to friends old and new!” —Rabbi Deenna Silverstone serves the Center for Jewish Life in Lower Manhattan.

Rabbi Rachel Van Thyn (RVT)
“I’m bringing home new relationships with colleagues old and new! I also am bringing home learnings from some of Convention’s major programs, like learning about futurism, and thinking about how to apply it to my work. It was so good to pause for high-level creative thinking rather than being caught in the day-to-day of our roles.My biggest takeaway? Not to underestimate the meaning and joyfulness of praying, learning, and spending time with rabbinic colleagues.”—Rabbi Rachel Van Thyn (RVT) is a Clinical Pastoral Educator in New York and serves on the CCAR Board.

Categories
Books CCAR Press

Jewishness as a Core Identity: Michael A. Meyer on Writing Rabbi Alexander Schindler’s Biography

Michael A. Meyer, PhD, is the author of Above All, We Are Jews: A Biography of Rabbi Alexander Schindler from CCAR Press. Rabbi Schindler (1925–2000) was an extraordinarily influential leader in the history of Reform Judaism. From 1973 to 1996, he served as president of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (today’s Union for Reform Judaism), where his charisma and vision raised the Reform Movement to unprecedented influence. Never afraid to be controversial, he argued for recognizing patrilineal descent, institutionalized outreach to interfaith families and non-Jews, and championed LGBTQ rights and racial equality. He was a tireless advocate for Israel while maintaining diaspora Jews’ right to speak out independently on the Jewish state. In this interview, Professor Meyer discusses what inspired him to write a biography of this Jewish leader and what readers can learn from Rabbi Schindler today.

What inspired you to write a biography of Rabbi Alexander Schindler?
I was inspired to write this biography because Rabbi Schindler was such a significant figure in the Reform Movement and in the history of American Judaism as a whole. I was also motivated by the fact that there was no previous biography and that his papers were readily available in the American Jewish Archives.

The title of your book is a quotation from Rabbi Schindler, Above All, We Are Jews. What does this quote reveal about his vision of Jewish identity?
I chose Above All, We Are Jews as the title because it represents Rabbi Schindler’s belief that Jewishness is—or should be—more basic than other identities that Jews hold. He was an American Jew, not a Jewish American.

How did Rabbi Schindler shape the direction of Reform Judaism?
Rabbi Schindler made Reform Judaism more open to those who were looking in from the outside. He also turned it toward a greater appreciation of the emotional element within the Jewish religion.

What lessons can Rabbi Schindler teach us as we think about the future of Judaism?
From Rabbi Schindler we can learn that love of the Jewish people is as much a part of Jewish identity as is love of God. We can also learn that love of Israel does not exclude critique of its moral shortcomings.

Michael A. Meyer holds a doctorate in Jewish history from Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, where he served as professor of Jewish history for fifty years. He is the author of Above All, We Are Jews: A Biography of Rabbi Alexander Schindler from CCAR Press.

Categories
Passover

On Pesach, Women, Freedom, and Hope: A Midrash for the Seder

Three years ago, during the first Pesach since the war began,
I wrote this midrash for the Maggid—
hoping it might offer some comfort,
and open a space for hope in the midst of pain and war.

Sadly, that need is still with us.

And yet, the women of Exodus remind us
that another way is possible,
a reality grounded in the sanctity of life,
in compassion, and in human connection.

Miriam and Pharaoh’s daughter met
to save Moses and the future.

Like Shifra and Puah before them,
they chose conscience over obedience,
life over fear.

Together, these women challenge us, then and now,
to choose differently:
to resist despair,
to act with courage and compassion,
and to nurture hope
for our children, on all sides.

Because another way is possible!

You are warmly invited to read this midrash
as part of your Seder,
and to open a moment for reflection
on freedom and hope.

Maggid: Recounting the Passover Story, by Rabbi Sivan Navon-Shoval

“All who recount the story of the Exodus from Egypt in great depth is worthy of praise.” (Passover Haggadah)

And thou recount to tell your son and daughter on that day, saying: It is because of that which God did for me when I came forth out of Egypt, because of the leadership of Miriam and the daughter of Pharaoh. (According to Exodus 13:8)

“And his sister stood, from a distance, to know what would be done to him.” (Exodus 2:4)

And she ‘stood’: Miriam stood, upright and firm, in her faith and in her strength to act for the future of her people; and in her steadfast stance, she proclaimed: “Here I am.” With this, she upheld the covenant of Israel. For it is said: “You shall stand this day, all of you.” (Deuteronomy 29:9)

His ‘sister’: Miriam dedicated herself for the sake of all her brothers and sisters. She knew that if she did not stand there for them, it would be as though she herself had shed their blood. As it is written: “Where is Abel, your brother?… The sound of your brother’s blood cries to me from the earth.” (Genesis 4:9–10).

From a distance, to know what would be done to him: Miriam the prophetess stood and beheld, from a distance, all that would be done to her people in their deliverance from Egypt. She directed her heart to that place and saw the cries of their souls and the affliction of their bodies. Thus, she embraced the virtue of compassion into heart; the same virtue with which the Holy One would later redeem Israel from the land of Egypt. As it is written: “I have seen and beheld the plight of my people in Egypt, and I have heeded their cry from their affliction; for I knew their pain. ” (Exodus 3:7).

Miriam stood for the sanctity of life, and the daughter of Pharaoh stood beside her, defying the words of her father the Pharaoh, and proclaiming to all of humankind that the time had come for tikkun olam (repairing the world) and darchei shalom (followingthe path of peace). As it is written: “And when she opened it, she saw the child, and behold, the young boy wept. And she had compassion on him, and said, ‘This is one of the Hebrew children.’” (Exodus 2:6)

Rabbi Sivan Navon-Shoval lives in Jerusalem and was ordained at HUC,  Jerusalem in 2022. She is the author of the Hebrew collection of liturgical poetry, Elohima (Carmel, 2026). Her work brings together teaching, writing, and research, alongside officiating life-cycle ceremonies. She previously served as the rabbi of Kehillat Shir Chadash in Tzur Hadassah.