Author: Rabbi David Lyon

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Convention Rabbinic Reflections

‘For This Have We Come to the Rabbinate’: CCAR President Rabbi David Lyon’s 2026 CCAR Rabbinic Convention Address

The 137th annual Convention of the Central Conference of American Rabbis was held in March 2026 in the San Francisco Bay Area, where over 400 Reform rabbis gathered in person and online. Here, we share CCAR President Rabbi David Lyon’s moving address acknowledging the challenges of being a rabbi in this moment and a reminder to counter hate with courage and Jewish joy.

Only two weeks ago, we celebrated Purim. In ancient times, Persia returned the Jews to Judah; today, Jews seek to return Persians to Iran. It’s a topsy-turvy world sometimes. It’s not always ours to understand, but it’s always ours to make meaning. If only it didn’t take so long to return to our ancestral home in Israel, to repay the favor to Persia, or to anticipate peace after war in the Middle East. Apparently, it’s also going to be a while before Jewish institutions and the people who serve them can stop worrying and spending for security.

Our work, though, is a marathon, not a sprint, another sports metaphor that had to be explained to me by my colleague, Rabbi Adrienne Scott, who runs. I don’t run, unless I’m being chased. Esther, of course, was chased, but Mordechai had to remind her, in a horrible moment, that she had come to royalty “for a moment such as this.”

But, really? Under our circumstances, who hasn’t asked, “Have we come into the rabbinate for THIS?” Or maybe someone asked us, “For this YOU became a rabbi?” It’s rarely easy. So let’s be clear, today: For this and more WE were created.

Our learning begins in Vayikra where the Israelites and their priests managed their own sacred relationships with God through sacrifice. First among them, Moses brought different kinds of offerings. Referring to Psalm 18:26ff, Rabbi Nehemiah explains in Vayikra Rabbah: 

When Moses approached God with special courtesy, God treated him with special courtesy; when he came to God with frankness, God answered him with frankness; when he approached God with lack of directness, God countered him with lack of directness; when he sought a clear statement regarding his affairs, God made clear his affairs for him. (Midrash Rabbah, Vayikra 11:5) 

Without a Temple to offer sacrifices, the rabbis linked Moses’s relationship with God to the offerings of his lips and the intentions he brought with them. Then they linked Moses to themselves, and they taught that, with no Temple standing in Jerusalem, our verbal gifts would replace the sacrifices. The rabbis thus equated the power of their own prayers with the power of the best-intentioned sacrificial offerings. We, too, hope that our prayers and intentions will be worthy before God. 

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Rabbinic Reflections

When It’s Time to Speak

Days before Shabbat, I saw on the calendar that we would welcome a new board president to the bimah for a blessing on Friday night. In addition to the sermon and weekly preparations for worship services, not to mention the busy week that was still in front of me, I wondered what could I say to the new president that hasn’t already been said? The question wasn’t easy to answer and not because I didn’t know the new president well, and not because I wasn’t unfamiliar with themes for the occasion. But I was stuck. Then I opened to the weekly parashah and its commentaries and found an insight that changed my orientation to the problem and revealed an answer to my question.

In many places where words were spoken, the Hebrew wasn’t only ויאמר or וידבר. In these texts, for example, either in the same verse or verses that followed, the Hebrew included תספר באזני בנך (Ex. 10:2), or באזני עם הארץ (Gen. 23:13), or אוזנים לשמוע (Deut. 29:3). A clear reference to hearing and not just speaking revealed that the goal wasn’t only to say what needed to be said, but to be sure that what was important to say was meaningful to the one(s) who heard it. In another text (Ex. 17:14), we find, “ושים באזני יהושע,” literally, put it in Joshua’s hearing; but a familiar translation only tells us, “…read it aloud to Joshua.”

“Put it in Joshua’s hearing,” changed my orientation to the problem and led me to ask a better question, “What does the new president of the board need to hear from me?” This question revealed many options. I began to think about validating the president’s gifts and skills that earned her the privilege to serve as president. She would want the congregation to hear that she cares deeply, leads wisely, and always finds time for the congregation’s needs. I thought about linking the new president to a biblical leader who was lifted up by the people to succeed and flourish in her new role. She would like to hear her name linked to the names of the matriarchs or Miriam or Deborah who found leadership to be challenging and rewarding. I thought about expressing my own trust in her partnership to lead the congregation with me. It would be a comfort to her to hear that carrying the weight of Torah, literally and figuratively, as we would stand before the Holy Ark on Shabbat, was a sacred burden we would help each other carry.

When Shabbat came, my final words, which I prepared and then spoke extemporaneously, felt sincere, authentic, and meaningful. In turn, what the new president of the board heard in that moment before the Holy Ark was just what I had hoped she would also always know in her heart and mind. When I added, “עלי והצלחי” there was little question but that she would rise to her new role and prosper in it.

Ever since that Shabbat, I learned not to ask myself, “What should I say?” but rather, “What do they need to hear?” It’s about them and then what we can become together.

Rabbi David A. Lyon serves Congregation Beth Israel in Houston, Texas. He also serves on the CCAR Board of Trustees.

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Healing member support

Know That You Are Loved

I can’t remember the last time I sat in my backyard in mid-April, on a towel on the ground eating lunch in the sunshine. It’s possible that I never have. It would take a pandemic and social distancing to create the opening for lunch al fresco at the Lyon house. The neighborhood around me was oddly quiet, too. As I looked into the sky, I saw a blue jay way up high on a telephone line. It sat there for a long time without any fear of a rumbling truck down below or any disturbance around it. It had a long twig in its beak. I thought it would fly off to finish its nest building, but it didn’t. Silly bird, I thought, there’s so much to do and you’re taking a break on the telephone line. 

Then I felt oddly embarrassed. I began to learn something about myself as I continued to stare at the bird. The quiet of the day, without back-to-back meetings and urgent matters, enabled me to perch on my lawn for an extended time, too. I truly wanted the bird to fly away so I could get back to thoughts about my work, but it didn’t leave. The longer it stayed, the longer I had to think about eating more slowly than before, soaking up more sun than I would have, and digesting more than my lunch, but also some new expectations. 

We’re all creatures in nature, but surely there’s a difference. What is it? In Mishnah Pirkei Avot (3:14) we learn that Rabbi Akiva used to say, “Beloved of God is man (sic) for he was created in the image of God; but greater still was the love [shown him] in that it was made known to him that he was created in the image of God, as it is said, For in the image of God made He man (Genesis 9:6).” Rabbi Samuel Karff taught about this verse, “It is one thing to be loved; it is another thing to know that you are loved.” The difference is our awareness of our Creator, and, in that awareness, our discovery of irrefutable and unconditional love. 

During these days of COVID-19, and all that it has come to mean, we can all find comfort in what God’s love can mean to us, what love between us can help us know, and what self-love can enable us to be. 

Eventually, the bird on the telephone line flew off to build its nest and to be, well, a bird. I picked up my plates and towel from the ground and finished my day with deeper appreciation of my Creator’s love, greater thanks for those who are sharing this pandemic period with me at home, and increasing awareness of self-care as a necessary part of moving on from here, one day. I wish for you the same and much more. 

Rabbi David Lyon is Senior Rabbi at Congregation Beth Israel in Houston, Texas.