The 136th annual Convention of the Central Conference of American Rabbis was held March 23-26, 2025, in downtown Chicago, where over 450 Reform rabbis gathered in person and online. Here, we share CCAR President Rabbi David Lyon’s moving address, in which he speaks of unity, faith, hope and the commandment to build a single Tabernacle for all.
There are few places where peace is found in our cities, from Los Angeles and Washington, DC, to Europe and Israel. So let this space, my hometown, but far from my long-standing home in Houston, Texas, be an oasis for us—not disconnected from the world, but a staging ground for the peace we’ll work to know in the future. From where does peace come? Mine begins with gratitude for my wife, Lisa; our children and their spouses, Jeremy and Mimi, Adam and Claire, Abby and Randy, and Emma; for our Houston family, including my clergy team, Adrienne Scott, Sam Rheins, Kenny Feibush, and David Scott, a member of the first cohort of HUC’s Virtual Pathways; the class of 1990; past presidents of CCAR; Erica Asch, immediate past president and her board; and Hara Person, our chief executive extraordinaire.
In 1985, my class of 1990 gathered in Jerusalem at 13 King David Street to begin our trek to ordination. It was there that I met my new and lifelong friend, Barry Block, of Houston, who told me that Texas was the western holy land. I completely disagreed with him, having never been to Texas. Irony of ironies, I’ve been a Texan for more than thirty years and serving in the very congregation where he grew up. But is it really the western holy land? Uh, no.
From all the places we came, and to all the places we went, there was one common denominator that held us together. From the start, we joined the ranks of Reform rabbis who were focused on the same privilege to learn, teach, guide, lead, counsel, strive, struggle, and make a difference.
In the rabbinate, the stakes are always high. It begins with faith in ourselves to do this hard work; it follows with faith that others have in us to do it well; and it continues in cycles of sacred service that nourish our passion. We have held God, Torah, and Israel at the center of our work. But it hasn’t been even or equal for all of us. Though we are colleagues, we’ve been more like siblings who have been treated with unequal support and love. In Torah, Joseph’s brothers observed that he carried himself with unearned praise. It was more than they could bear. Together, they approached their father, Jacob, and told him about their brother’s arrogance. Jacob, himself hardly a perfect model of parental judgment, merely שמר את הדבר kept the matter in mind (Genesis 37:11). It sounds dismissive, but to commentators, it provided an insight into his faithfulness.
Rashi taught that Torah is telling us about Jacob’s faith that the matter would be resolved properly. But, unable to understand their father’s faithfulness properly, Joseph’s brothers took it upon themselves to leave Joseph for dead in a pit. You and I know how the story ends.
At the end of his life, in blessing each of his children, Jacob identified how they would go on to serve God in accordance with their God-given strengths. Judah, chief among the sons, would be the tribe for whom we are named. Jews and Judaism thrive today because resilience preserved faith, faith renewed hope, and hope was and continues to be our future.
In this week’s parashah, P’kudei, just as Jacob surely foresaw it, all the Israelites convened to build the Tabernacle, God’s dwelling place among them. How did they understand their building task? In the Jerusalem Talmud (Pei-ah 1:1:17), Rabbi Tanchuma taught in the name of Rav Huna: Torah doesn’t say, “Bezalel…of the tribe of Judah made everything [that] Moses had commanded him,” which could mean Bezalel. Rather, it says, “Everything that the Eternal had commanded Moses” (Exodus 38:22). The important difference reveals that “matters Bezalel didn’t hear directly, he did, himself.” The sacred work was evident to him, and the task at hand was clear. And after all the work was done, ככל אשר צווה הי את משה כן עשו, Moses blessed them all (Exodus 39:42–43).
The work was done k’chol, not just as Moses told them, but “like Moses was commanded.” Without injustice, guile, or deceit, every Israelite did their best to contribute to the sacred work that God commanded to be done. Moses blessed them for their effort, with pure hearts to do as they heard, and completed with faith in the direction they were called to go.
Moses’s blessing was unequivocal. In Midrash Tanchuma, the Rabbis taught that in our parashah, ויברך אותם the words, “you shall bless them,” should יבורך אותם not be read , “they shall be blessed,” as the phrase appears in Proverbs (22:9). The rabbis concluded that “[Moses], who has a benevolent eye shall bless them [in that moment, for all the work that the Israelites did was in good faith and became dear to God who commanded it].”
Likewise, you and I are not laboring for a blessing in the future. We have studied the teachings, we have been ordained with the responsibility, and we have been engaged in the sacred work for many years or even just a few. Together, our קהל is blessed right now for all that we have done, for all that we do, and for all that we are striving to do, together.
That covenantal relationship was guaranteed when the people spoke with one voice at Sinai. “ונשמע נעשה,” they said. “We will do it and then we will understand it.” Through the doing came the understanding. And so it has been for generations down to our very own. Rabbis, who pledged themselves to do and to learn, entered the rabbinate to bear witness to the Torah they received and promised to teach. But not everybody who pledged themselves to teach Torah was given the same opportunity to do so. Despite the sacred teachings of Torah and Reform Jewish interpretations of those texts, obstacles, discrimination, and pain caused colleagues to stumble, sometimes badly.
We’re taught, לפני עור לא תתן מכשל “Don’t put a stumbling block before the blind” (Leviticus 19:14). But the blind are not just the ones who cannot see with their eyes. We were blind to our LGBTQ+ colleagues who were urged to see promises that were made to every rabbi who studied and prepared for the rabbinate—the congregants, the communities, and the future they were prepared to build and sustain. But they were not always shown the artificial barriers placed before them, false promises that diminished them in our eyes and their own, and unearned contempt that dishonored them and our God. Our LGBTQ+ colleagues were barred, placated, marginalized, diminished, and disrespected.
On this 35th anniversary of sacred work to change the course for our colleagues, the CCAR apologizes to our LGBTQ+ colleagues whose dreams were met with closed doors and closed minds. Along the way, and especially today, we’re moved and inspired by those who challenged institutions that previously contributed to and condoned homophobia and transphobia. Early work of the earliest openly gay and lesbian rabbis, often with few supporters, transformed institutional thinking and restored Torah-centered faith. That faith is found in the Tabernacle that God commanded Moses to build. And there, all the people possessed the instructions to contribute to it—not with guile or imperfections or impurity; but with faith, love, and hope for the way God would abide with all of us.
The CCAR is grateful to those who participated in our transformation as a Conference and is pledged to continue the hard work—the sacred work—that continues to reflect the Tabernacle of God’s presence among us. The common denominator that I saw years ago exists today, because it’s one we see more equitably now and has become more enduring than ever, even as we all know that there is still work to do.
Founded on this promise to each other, the CCAR can recruit more rabbis to our ranks. We can strengthen our impact on the Reform rabbinate and address the world to hear what is our essential Torah: We are all builders of God’s dwelling place with us.
Only together can we see the world as it is and fashion it into the world that ought to be. Since October 7, we’ve learned that we are עם אחד בלב אחד one people with one heart. The challenges in Israel and for us in America, where antisemitism rises daily, should unite us and not divide us. This year, we must “Vote Reform!” Electing a larger than ever ARZA delegation to the World Zionist Congress is crucial. The election continues through May 4, and it will determine the future of Reform Movement in Israel and deeply impact the well-being of the Jewish state and the Jewish people worldwide.
Notwithstanding any disagreements among us about Israel’s present, we won’t be able to address and shape Israel’s future unless we have seats at the table. Never has it been truer that “if we’re not at the table, then we’re on the menu.” Chareidi extremism will have us for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—with time between meat and dairy, of course—if we don’t muster the will to see Israel, warts and all, as our people’s promise and hope. For Israelis and for persecuted Jews, everywhere, אין ארץ אחרת, there is no other land.
The world around us is broken and complex. We rabbis are called to address it with all our collective wisdom and strength. But that wisdom and strength will amount to nothing if we don’t hear the commandment to build a single Tabernacle where all God’s people can be present. Deep Jewish learning through CCAR’s CRE courses and webinars is a crucial way to prepare ourselves with self-care and with collective understanding about what’s at stake: thriving Reform communities with Reform rabbis who are deeply steeped in Jewish wisdom and thought.
Our varied rabbinates will produce diverse interpretations that are anchored in sacred teachings we were ordained to do and understand, apply and interpret. But it all begins here. Peace between us and preparation for the work ahead of us begins in this room, during this conference, on Facebook, on RavKav, in our synagogues, organizations, and communities, and in the transforming institutions of Jewish life and leadership. We are קלי קודש sacred vessels, ordained to do sacred work—it’s in our mouths, it’s in our hearts, to do it with our hands. We cannot fail to bring the best of ourselves to each other and our people. Moses accepted all the people’s offerings to the Tabernacle on faith and blessed them.
Hope begins in each of us. It’s the thread that ties us to Torah, the wisdom of Jacob, the leadership of Moses, the joy of Miriam, and the memory of rabbis on whose shoulders we should stand. When we lead with hope, our people will follow. The CCAR is here to support rabbis with Torah and its teachings that speak to the world around us, including in these most difficult times. This is not our time to give up or to preach only politics to politicians or to our followers. This is our time to teach and lead with Torah in all its words and ways, because we are its authorities. We have been taught, צא ולמד, go and learn in order to lead the people well.
Remember Jacob: Shamar et hadavar is the permission we grant ourselves to keep faith with our choice to be rabbis and our faith in what isjust and good. We who are ordained must walk with determined steps, to see the דרך, the way, as a destination that is a sacred reflection of the light that burns within us. Therefore, keeping the matter in mind isn’t a delay tactic; it’s a statement of faith and humility. The way might not always be crystal clear, but together we can arrive at the place we’re all intended to be. חזק חזק ונתחזק. Amen.
