Category: General CCAR

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CCAR Convention General CCAR Rabbis Reform Judaism

See You in Chicago!: From the First CCAR Convention Registrant

I must admit it’s more than a little embarrassing to receive an e-mail from a classmate (and Jerusalem roommate!) telling me I was the first colleague to register for our upcoming CCAR Convention in Chicago. It’s one thing to be an enthusiastic member of our Conference (which I am), but it’s another matter entirely to be the loudest guy cheering at the pep rally.

But I’m glad Joui Hessel reached out to let me know I was the very first registrant, because it’s given me a chance to reflect on why I rushed to make sure that I would be a part of yet another meaningful, productive, and refreshing CCAR convention.  And I can boil all that down to two things: learning with colleagues, and doing with colleagues.

The learning at Convention is always top-notch.  Be it the speakers (Michael Chabon last year was a highlight for me) or the smaller sessions, there’s always something new to think about, a new perspective provided, and thoughtful friends (unfortunately scattered across North America) with whom to discuss.  And then there is the incredibly important informal education: catching up with colleagues in the hallways, restaurants and [let’s admit it] bars, to see what’s happening in their lives, and to talk about common challenges we face.  There’s no better course of professional development than conversing with CCAR_LB-0660colleagues of all ages to help orient me before I return back home.

Learning is good, but doing is more important.  (That’s in Pirkei Avot, I’m pretty sure, but this isn’t a scholarly article.) And the “doing” that we rabbis get to work on together changed profoundly for me last year in Long Beach.  There we launched the first campaign of Rabbis Organizing Rabbis, which has led to a massive year of continued effort and focus on helping Comprehensive Immigration Reform pass through Congress.  The Convention not only allows our strategy team to meet face-to-face (in place of bi-weekly conference calls), but it more importantly allowed all of us to connect to colleagues who soon became comrades-in-arms in this crusade.  It was incredibly energizing to see a room full of rabbis engaged in an issue; it’s more encouraging, many months later, to see how many of those rabbis have found meaningful ways to remain connected to and involved in the work since Long Beach.

254I find that time away from home and hearth and study allows me time to get better perspective on my life and career.  For thirteen straight years, I find no better partners in finding that perspective than my friends who share CCAR Convention with me.  Because these times are so precious to me, I’m proud I was the first to register.

And I hope you’re the next one to do so!  See you in Chicago!

  Rabbi Seth M. Limmer is rabbi of 
Congregation B’nai Yisrael of Armonk, New York.  

Categories
General CCAR Prayer Rabbis Technology

How a Whole Congregation Wrote its Rabbi’s Yom Kippur Sermon

The Genesis of a Social Sermon

Utilizing a process called the Social Sermon, I developed my Yom Kippur morning sermon this year in partnership with Facebook Friends, TED talkers and a group of insightful congregants. To be blunt, this year, the whole Congregation Or Ami wrote its rabbi’s Yom Kippur sermon.

Where Great Sermon Ideas Come From Rabbis explore sermon ideas from within the Machzor (prayerbook) and Torah, through conference calls organized by Jewish non-profit organizations, and at sermon seminars run by local Boards of Rabbis. Ideas are generated from Jewish text study, current events, issues in the public sphere, bestselling books, and powerful movies. Some clergy ask friends, colleagues, congregants for ideas. Deciding upon topics and themes for High Holy Day (HHD) sermons can be a multi-month process. The social sermon encourages rabbis to engage the congregants (and other contacts in the social media sphere) in the process of exploring the topic and teasing out important themes.

Fleshing out a Topic Over the summer, as our community struggled to deal with illnesses and deaths of beloved congregants, I knew it was time again to explore Unetaneh Tokef, the haunting HHD prayer most remembered for its opening lines: On Rosh Hashana it is written and on Yom Kippur it is Sealed… Who shall live and who shall die.  I read this text as a cosmic wake up call: God reminds us that “stuff” happens. Unetaneh Tokef forces us to face this reality and to decide: how are YOU going to deal with it? The prayer offers three responses to the severity of life’s decree of misfortune, pain and death. We may reach around (teshuva or repentance – by fixing our relationships with those around us), reach inward (t’filah or prayer – by finding our center and the truth within), and reach up (tzedakah or charitable giving – by lifting up others we lift ourselves).

PaulKipnes1But how did this play out in real life? What lessons do people learn from enduring the hardships or challenges that life throws out way?

Facebook Friends Chime In For assistance, I turned to Facebook (and Twitter) where my personal and congregational pages yielded some poignant answers to the question, What did you learn from going through hardship or challenge? Responses poured in from all around the congregation and around the country. The question struck a few heart strings as people posted publicly and some privately about the tsuris (problems) in their lives. Face-to-face conversations with other community members elicited many significant lessons learned. From these responses, as well as those from people I spoke with over the course of a few months, three categories of hardship rose up as being particularly challenging: financial ruin, turmoil from dealing with children with special needs, and horrible medical diagnoses.

TED Talks Provide Inspiration Around that time, I was watching some TED Talks and became inspired by the stories I heard. About people in challenging situations, who found meaning and purpose nonetheless. The most moving sermons include powerful personal stories to illustrate the central message. It occurred to me that rather than my telling those inspiring stories, I would ask a few congregants to tell their own stories. After all, High Holy Day services offer just the forum for Jewish TED Talks. Thus was a sermon born.

I invited three congregants reflect on what they learned personal through their personal challenge. Their initial drafts were poignant. Each participant had learned powerful lessons on how to overcome the “stuff” of life on which Unetaneh Tokef focuses. Guiding the speakers to understand how their experiences embodied teachings similar to those in Unetaneh Tokef, I worked with them to weave references into their sermonette.

Simultaneously, I crafted a short introduction – utilizing a sledgehammer, if you believe it – to sharply make the point that Unetaneh Tokef comes as a Divine wake-up call. Like a sledgehammer, Unetaneh Tokef comes to break down the walls of naivety and denial that keep us from accepting a simple truth: that between this year and next, so many will live but many will die. Some will experience success; others failure. So many will encounter the unpredictability and pain of life. We are left to discover how do we keep ourselves from becoming angry, embittered, and crotchety, from giving up?

Congregants Tell their Own Stories At different points in the service, these congregants and our President shared their stories:

Their presentations were poignant. Worshippers sat at the edge of their seats, listening in silence. Certain moments were unforgettable: When Eric and Jill Epstein spoke just after their 14 year old son Ethan led the congregation in prayer. When Mike Moxness was moved to tears as he recalled the overwhelming mix of sadness and gratitude. When Congregation Or Ami President Hedi Gross, in the traditional end-of-service Presidential sermonette, recounted her Jewish spiritual journey, including their struggle with fertility issues, unexpectedly reemphasizing the theme of the sermon and service.
Suffice it to say, the responses to the Jewish-TED-talk/HHD-social-sermon touched and moved so many worshippers.

What Lessons were Learned?

  1. Social Sermons Work: A number of worshippers later described the Facebook discussion on Facebook as a meaningful way to get them to prepare for the Holy Days.  Others reflected on the Facebook discussion as an inviting way of previewing am upcoming sermon theme.
  2. Jewish TED Talks Inspire: In comments about the High Holy Days, this multi-speaker sermon topped the list of worshipper kvells (positive comments). Unanimously, post-service comments called the congregant presentations inspiring, powerful, very real, and intensely thought-provoking.
  3. Rabbinic Tzimtzum Fosters Deep Reflection: As clergy “pull back” from their up front role as sermonizer to work in partnership with congregants to craft a Jewish teaching, the message becomes that much more influential. In an increasingly DIY (Do It Yourself) Jewish world, involving other Jews in the teaching/preaching/liturgy leading roles cements their relationships to the community, the synagogue and the rabbi.
  4. Weaving in New Technologies and Methods Animate Communities: Darim Online and The Convenant Foundation introduced me to the Social Sermon. TED Talks inspired me to invite congregants to speak. Just Congregations of the Union for Reform Congregations taught me about listening campaigns. eJewish Philanthropy constantly pushes me to explore new perspectives and methods. Visual T’filah of the Central Conference of American Rabbis propelled me to rethink the entire worship experience. Finally, Rabbi Eugene Borowitz’s 1973 essay, Tzimtzum: A Mystic Model for Contem­porary Leadership, has long goaded my rabbinic style to pull back to invite others in.
What’s next? Already, congregants are wondering which congregant speakers will elucidate which themes next year.  And so am I!
But I do not expect to wait until the High Holy Days to invite my congregation to write my next sermon!
Rabbi Paul Rabbi Paul J. Kipnes is the spiritual leader of Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, CA.  This post originally appeared on his blog, Or Am I?
Categories
Ethics General CCAR News Rabbis Reform Judaism

A Reform Congregation Emerges from the Flood

On Rosh HaShanah we celebrated Creation, and by Yom Kippur we had been hit by the flood.

The deluge began Thursday afternoon.  I posted pictures to Twitter and Facebook, amused by the enormous puddles everywhere.  Two hours later, it was clear that this was no joke.  The four lane road in front of our Congregation, Har HaShem, was now a rushing river. Muddy water poured in everywhere.   Our Executive Director Gary Fifer and I waded through more than a foot of water in the parking lot, grabbed the sifrei torah from the ark, wrapped them in plastic and put them in a high place.  We cut the power and headed for high ground.

IMG_8399The situation at Har HaShem remains critical as we recover from this 500-year flood. In all, we estimate that we sustained about $150,000 to $200,000 worth of damage and we now know that our insurance policy will cover only a tiny fraction of this.  We have established a fund, to which you may donate here (or through our website). Our entire lower level, with eight classrooms, was destroyed. Carpet, drywall, furniture, shelving, school supplies, congregational archives – gone.  Our sanctuary, social hall and South Building flooded as did two residential houses we own.  Our parking lot was covered with inches of mud and debris.

While all of this has been painful and difficult, there were no significant injuries or deaths in the Jewish community. We pray that God grants strength and comfort to the many in the region who have lost so much more.

A little light dispels great darkness, our Sages taught.  Indeed.  Many people have come together to bring the synagogue back to life.  The neighborhood system we created this past year enabled the 30 neighborhood  captains, responsible for creating community and fostering Jewish living in their neighborhoods , to quickly and locally identify need and volunteers.  It was moving to see members in need being helped by neighbor-congregants they may not have known hours before.  At the synagogue itself roughly 50 member volunteers have worked tirelessly to get us cleaned up.  Our Youth Group kids spent the unexpected no-school here, inspiring other volunteers by working their hearts out.  Nechama, a Jewish Response to Disaster, has done untold good in Boulder and have been lifesavers for Har HaShem.  They’re helping us rebuild.

IMG_8277More light: we are a homeless overflow shelter in the winter and summer months and offered several homeless folks who are guests during the year an hourly wage to help downstairs.  We are deeply impressed by their energy and dedication.  My family won’t forget having them over for kiddush and lunch in our sukkah (I live next door to the synagogue) during a lunch break.

The entire Boulder community came together during this crisis.  Students from CU Chabad, members of the neighboring Conservative congregation, whose synagogue was also badly damaged, strangers off the street – so many have reached out.  The Federation has been wonderful, the JCC is by our side, Jewish Family Service has been a lifeline to many.

Several folks from across the country have reached out.  Rabbi Hara Person of the CCAR and Rabbi Jan Offel of the URJ helped us get some books to replace those that were destroyed. Rabbi Deborah Prinz of the CCAR has reached out to help.  And I’ve been so moved that several of you have extended a hand as well.

We have a lot of work ahead.  Most significant is addressing the huge financial setback. If you are moved to donate, you may do so here (or through our website), or through URJ Disaster Relief.  Of course there are other challenges, from finding space for our delayed religious school start, to an overextended staff, to maintaining other programming during the coming weeks.

The deep connections between the creation story of Bereishit and the flood story are well known.  Bereishit Rabbah teaches that initially God’s light was unobscured and could be seen from one end of the earth to the other.  Acts of evil, including those of the generation of the flood, caused that light to be removed and concealed.  Here, in these early days of the new creation of 5774 and in the wake of our flood, we have seen the unmistakable glow of divine light in the many acts of righteousness within our community and from far beyond.   May we be strengthened to rebuild in the coming weeks and months.

Rabbi Joshua Rose is the rabbi of Congregation Har HaShem, in Boulder, CO. 

 

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General CCAR High Holy Days Rabbis

The Files of Our Lives: An Rabbinic Ephiphany in Retirement

Since my retirement three months ago, I’ve spent a large chunk of time in an industrial-strength cleaning frenzy, culling files (paper and digital), writings, books, newspaper clippings, pictures. What began as a slightly (?) obsessive attempt to cope with clutter and to relegate boxes to the attic (and at least some, but never enough, unnecessary items to the trash) has transformed itself into an unintentional journey into a personal and professional past, simultaneously and paradoxically well-remembered and half-forgotten.

Instead of writing sermons for the High Holidays, I have been experiencing a perpetual Elul, acknowledging past accomplishments, mistakes, choices, regrets, joys, sorrows over a period of years, beginning with childhood letters from camp (yes, my mother never discarded enough memorabilia, either!) extending through college and rabbinical school, trips to Israel, marriage and children, various stages of my professional life. I have saved too much, and yet it is hard to regret coming across a letter from an old friend now-deceased or a child’s scorecard from a baseball game or a particularly gracious thank-you note. The task is bittersweet; were I to analyze and sort every item, there would be no time to live my current life; were I to re-read every note and letter, I could not continue to create in the present; were I to save every document, I would in effect be unable to savor what is truly special and unique and—dare I hope?—eternal (or at least of some value to the next generation).

booksAnd because my personal and professional life overlaps with the acceptance of the first class to include women at Yale (class of 1973) and the first classes of women in the rabbinate (I was ordained in 1980), I discover items of more general historic value (thank you, American Jewish Archives, for your collection of women rabbis’ memorabilia, to which I will happily contribute). These provide a matrix in which to place my individual life, a unique context to which I can feel and see that I made a contribution. Being an ima (mother) and writing the book IMA ON THE BIMA intersect in these dusty files to form a pattern of which I am both grateful and proud.

The sifting and sorting go slowly. I will not be done by Yom Kippur, nor even by Shemini Azeret, the date to which the rabbis extended the possibility of repentance. I am more selective these days about what I save, and of course, as everyone constantly reminds me, one can retrieve everything now on one’s computer (Bahya ibn Pakuda must have contemplated this moment back in the 11th century, when he wrote, “days are scrolls; write on them only what you want remembered”).

Who really needs two huge file folders on “God” or one on “Elian Gonzalez” or another on Mel Gibson’s ‘Passion of the Christ’?  But I am of an age when a loved one’s handwriting on stationery evokes presence in ways that e-mail can never match.  When the rustle of real and yellowing newsprint (now augmented by my hearing aids) jog my memory about events long past but forever documented.

Today, thinking about Syria (particularly in light of my son having just returned to his home in Tel Aviv), I found my file on “Syrian Jews”, with articles and information from the 1970’s to 1990’s. What I found teaches me much about what I cared about, and what our community cared about. Just recently, I re-discovered files about the 20th anniversary gathering (1983) of the “March on Washington”,  at which my husband and I were carrying our then-three-month-old daughter under a “New Jewish Agenda” banner, and stories about the controversy over whether and which Jewish groups would participate (I had not remembered all the fuss). This week, that daughter, now 30, began working at the Civil Rights division of the Justice Department.

And so it goes. Our lives do indeed weave a pattern, and our tradition values memory. We can’t remain forever locked in Elul, as tempting as that may be. We must discard, repent, forgive, and even sometimes forget in order to move forward.

We are indeed flowers that fade, but it is lovely in the twilight of summer to review the seeds of a future yet to be experienced. What began as a housekeeping task became an Elul epiphany and the promise of new content for still-empty files for a New Year.

Rabbi Mindy Avra Portnoy is the Rabbi Emerita of Temple Sinai, in Washington, DC, and is the author of the groundbreaking children’s book, Ima on the Bima.

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General CCAR High Holy Days Machzor Rabbis Reform Judaism

Reading Nitzavim on Yom Kippur

“You stand this day, all of you, before your God, the Holy One of Blessing: you tribal heads, you elders, and you officials, all the men of Israel, you children, you women, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer … ” (Deuteronomy 29)

The opening of Nitzavim grabs us by our lapels and looks each of us directly in the eye. All of you, each of you, whether you stand at the top or at the bottom of the food chain, whether you command the attention and admiration of many or whether your labor goes almost unnoticed, you stand this day, poised to enter into a relationship with God, a relationship that demands your full attention.

The opening has the urgency of an invitation that’s almost impossible to refuse. Every man, child, woman, outsider and insider is included in this round up. The portion continues as God addresses the people: “I make this covenant … not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day … and with those who are not with us here this day.”

Not only is everyone present included, but those who will come after, children and grandchildren, descendants and heirs are also included. This is a covenant of mythic proportions, a relationship between God and God’s people that transcends time.

Thirty years ago, Rabbi Chaim Stern, z”l, and the Liturgy Committee of the Central Conference of American Rabbis decided that this challenge to the community should not be read solely on Shabbat Nitzavim. These editors of The Gates of Repentance, the High Holiday prayerbook used in Reform congregations, introduced this portion as the Torah reading for Yom Kippur morning.  As the new CCAR machzor, Mishkan HaNefesh, is being developed, the editors are maintaining Nitzavim as an option for the Yom Kippur torah reading.

This innovation insured that many Jews would hear: “You stand this day, all of you … ” and as an invitation to the link between this eternal covenant between God and the Jewish people and the message of teshuvah/return that is at the center of Yom Kippur. The Gates of Repentance concludes the Torah reading with these words from our portion: “I call heaven and earth to witness against you, this day; I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life — if you and your offspring would live.”

Entering into covenant is a choice that opens the way to other choices. We are making our way through the month of Elul, the month that leads into the High Holidays and offers rich spiritual opportunities to begin to review, return and repair. Teshuvah is our process of considering how we’ve stumbled and then making amends, asking others to forgive us, and forgiving ourselves.

Every day during Elul, we blow the shofar. Like the opening words of Nitzavim, the shofar grabs us and shakes us awake to the possibilities of living our lives with greater attention, greater intention, and greater joy. The shofar calls us to choose life and blessing, through small acts of kindness, and through discovering the power of patience for ourselves and others.

This portion reminds us that we are in this together, whatever our roles in life. It reminds us that we are connected not only to those with whom we share time and place, but that our circles of responsibility are beyond our own sight.

Nitzavim reminds us that our choices today have consequences for our descendants, and indeed, for many we will never meet. In this New Year, may each of us choose life, blessing and joy.

Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell, Ph.D., serves as rabbi for the East District of the Union for Reform Judaism. 

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General CCAR High Holy Days Rabbis Reform Judaism

Lost in the Pews: An Ode to the Non-Pulpit Rabbi

Three years ago, I left my congregation to join the URJ.  I proudly professed to my spouse that I did not believe I would miss much, and certainly not the stress of the holidays.  I would rather spend them as a Jew, as a wife, as a mother.

I lied.  As Walnut Creek temperatures neared scorching and the moon began to wax toward crescent and newness, as Facebook posts decried the arduous task of crafting sermons in time for Rosh Hashanah, I slowly became aware of sadness trellising up my psyche.

At first I thought I felt left out.  So, I offered up my editing services to friends preparing their sermons.  How fun it was connecting with old classmates and colleagues across the country!  But, the sadness kept growing.

Perhaps, I missed being part of the amazing Sinai team (Oakland, CA).  So I wrote to each of my former clergy partners, remising about the thrill of standing in the Paramount Theatre’s green room, laughing to the point of tears as we celebrated the joy in each other’s lives and supported the pain.  We all connected over this, but, the sadness kept growing.

Could I miss the adulation I received when a sermon stood out?  I would miss the praise, but not enough to justify the strength of the sadness.

So why was I sad?  Finally, one Shabbat morning a couple of weeks before the holidays, I realized what or who I missed.  I missed God.  Or more specifically, I missed God’s awareness of me.  I subconsciously believed that because I was working toward a uniquely divine purpose, because I was striving to inspire God’s people toward spiritual height, because I was sacrificing my family and my own holiday experience, God had a particular awareness of and gratitude toward me.  And even more surprising; I was afraid.  I was afraid God would not find me that year.  I would be lost as a Jew in the Pew, not where God knew to look for me.

Consciously, I knew how silly this was.  But, subconsciously, I approached the High Holiday’s with a different type of nora from the awe and fear I had felt since I began working the High Holidays at age 18.  And it was with this feeling of trepidation I found a seat in the pews of a synagogue which never knew me in the role of rabbi, and prepared to seek holiness at a service over which I had no control.

I want to write about my lightning bolt moment when I discovered a new soulfulness and connection with God.  This did not happen.  But the next day as we sat with friends and community by our local reservoir laughing and playing, watching our children giggle ruthlessly, talking about the depth and meaning of what our lives could be… I felt the rise of a new joy, a new connection to the divine energy of Yamim Noraim, a new importance to God for just simply and only being me.

RabbiBerlinColor

This feeling and relationship has evolved over the last 3 years.  I do still miss the connection I felt to the rest of you, and especially my immediate team, as we prepared to create a sacred experience together.  But, I don’t miss God.  God knows where I am. Right where I belong.

 

Rabbi Andrea Berlin is Director Congregational Networks – West District with the Union for Reform Judaism and is the co-director of NCRCR.

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General CCAR News Rabbis Reform Judaism

A Second Act, Again: Reflections of a New Hillel Rabbi

When I left the corporate world as a director at 33 many people wondered why.  I was climbing the ladder, had a great job, good reputation, excellent track record and an exciting life. But my desire to become a rabbi trumped all that and I made a big change to start a “second career.” I not only left my job, I left my entire way of life and my community.  I completely changed my identity from executive expat to start on the path of becoming a Reform rabbi.  After five years at HUC-JIR and 13 years in a wonderful congregation in a small town in Connecticut I had transformed into a congregational rabbi with a solid reputation, a loving community and a sense of accomplishment topped by a beautiful new building. Many would have thought that this would be the time to reap the rewards of one’s hard work and simply enjoy the life I have created. But once again, I have managed to turn my life upside down.

Last month I accepted the position of Executive Director and Senior Jewish Chaplain of Joseph Slifka Center for Jewish life at Yale. This is a Hillel on steroids, with one of the largest staff, budget and scope of activities of any Hillel situated on one of the most prestigious campuses in the world with mind boggling students, faculty and resources. In the same month, I also led a trip to Israel, had rotator cuff surgery, put my house on the market, said good bye to my dear congregation, started my new job at Yale, and prepared to send my first and only child to college.  

Why? Depends on who you ask.  If you ask my all-knowing daughter she would say, “That is what my mom does.  She just does things that don’t seem normal.”  Others might point to the incredible opportunity that this position represents.  Those who know me from my congregation would quickly answer that our rabbi loves working with young people.  Some might find deep psychological explanations dealing with the empty nest syndrome. 

I think of all the responses I have gotten from people the one that had the biggest impact on me was the person who said, “This is really courageous”.  What struck me about his remark was that I had never thought of this decision or any decision I have made as courageous.  I think I am simply being normal. This is what normal means to me- challenge yourself, keep growing, live as if Judaism matters because it does, love people (imperfections and all), carpe diem, try, then try harder, know that you are not alone. 

Growing up, our family’s two core values were adventure and education.  As a family of six we lived and traveled all over the world and my parents were great teachers.  I think a final piece of my legacy that has impacted my decision is that I am now three years older than my sister was when she died, and almost the same age as my mother when she died.  My father also died in his fifties.  So this too I have learned and internalized as a motivating value- life ends. Right in the middle of doing your life, it can be over.  My heightened sense of mortality does not make me morbid, rather it makes me eager, curious, passionate, intense and yes, I guess, fearless. 

Rabbi Leah Cohen is the new Executive Director and Senior Jewish Chaplain at the Joseph Slifka Center for Jewish Life at Yale University. 

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General CCAR News Rabbis

Rabbis are Parents Too!

I have officiated at more than 100 britot (brises) for newborn baby boys and girls (and plenty of older adopted children as well). None made me more nervous than the bris I recently led.

Ask anyone about my anxiousness. My office assistants would laugh as they shared how concerned I was that every synagogue room was clean, dusted, and set up properly. Our cantor would remark that I was doubly attentive about the choices and placement of music. The parents would note the abundance of calls and texts to ensure that every aspect of the ceremony detail was … perfect.

Why all the Nervous Energy and the Extra Detail Work? Julia David Noam Sanctuary IMG_0293

Because we were naming Noam Daniel Weisz, son of my partner rabbi, Julia Weisz and her husband David. I was officiating at a ceremony for a colleague with whom I spend inordinate amounts of time visioning, problem-solving and planning. One for whom I have tremendous respect and appreciation. I was honored with great responsibility: balancing the communal need to welcome our “temple baby” with Julia and David’s own needs as parents. Yup, this bris had to be extra special.

Split Personalities: The Bifurcated Existence of Jewish Professionals

Communal leaders – rabbis, cantors, educators, Federation leaders and others – spend vast amounts of time building relationships, creating community, and designing meaningful Jewish moments for others. When our own s’machot (joyous moments) approach, we are pulled in two directions. On the one hand, with the communities in which we work, we want to share our joy, find consolation, or be role models of how to mark both experiences. On the other hand, Jewish professionals have the need and right to have a personal (non-rabbinic) life cycle experience.

Julia and David set a perfect tone of balance when they decided to divide the brit milah ceremony into two parts: the bris (circumcision) which would be held in a separate room for family only, and the naming which would take place in the sanctuary as a public ceremony. Such Solomonic wisdom from so young a couple!

The Bris: Blessings Between Family Members

The bris was intimate, musical and moving. We were connected midor lador (from generation to generation) and mimedinah lamedinah (across state borders) as Noam’s out-of-state relatives, including Super Nana and Super Zayda (great grandparents), watched the live streaming webcast of the ceremony and as Noam’s Aunt Jo FaceTimed in from Texas, where she was required to participate in the first days of her graduate school nursing program. His three living grandparents schepped nachas (shared the joy) in person with the rest of us.

Mohel (urologist) Dr. Andy Shpall explained the ritual, led the ceremony, and, in 30 quick seconds, circumcised young Noam with calm and professionalism. Cantor Doug Cotler, master musician, played background music and added in appropriate Jewish songs to focus our attention on this transcendent, joyous moment.

Cantor Doug and I caught each other’s eyes, and together recognized the blossoming kedusha (holiness). We wordlessly agreed to extend this portion of the day’s festivities to encircle the sparks of holiness. An extra song added. Then family members each blessed baby Noam with words that completed the sentence, “May you be blessed with…”

Eyes welled up as Mom (Julia) and Dad (David) blessed their baby. Family gathered close together and we pulled Aunt Jo’s iPad picture closer. Touching, hugging, holding each other, they all embraced Birkat Kohanim blessing. Eyes welled up poured out tears, as family celebrated the simcha.

Transition Time: Returning to the Rabbi Role

As family members were ushered downstairs to the sanctuary (where our lay leaders ensured that front row seats awaited them), we gave the Mom and Dad transition time. They spoke with the mohel about care for their circumcised infant. They took moments to hug each other. They held little Noam. Breathe in the blessings; breathe out the pre-bris worries. Breathe in; breathe out. Breathe in; breathe out.

The Naming: Schepping Nachas (Sharing the Joy)

The naming gathered a substantially larger group, mixing Rabbi Julia’s and David’s colleagues, friends, Or Ami congregants and family. Cantor Doug bonded the group by teaching them Nachas, Nachas, his new, original song for celebrating any significant moment of meaning. Paired with Siman Tov uMazel Tov, Nachas, Nachas brought old world yiddishkeit to our decidedly new American Jewish ceremony.

Grandparents shared readings about the significance of a name. Following the tradition – part superstition, part practical – of waiting until the bris to announce the baby’s name, David and Julia shared Noam Daniel’s name and its derivation from his deceased great-grandfather Oscar/Naphtali and his deceased step-grandfather Daniel. The congregation ooo’ed and ahhh’ed as the baby slept and cuddled. Hebrew blessings confirmed his Hebrew name and our prayers for his speedy recovery from the circumcision.

Allowing “Julia, our Rabbi” to Be “Julia, his Mommy”

How do communities care for the caregiver? Just as some adults have difficulty parenting the parent, congregations do not naturally know how to care for their Jewish professionals. Without such tools in their toolbox, it rests upon the shoulders of the leaders – clergy and president/board chair – to set the expectations. So as part of this ceremony, we explained to the assembled that today – and for the weeks (and years) following – Rabbi Julia and David need to be able to be like any other parents. Today especially, we celebrate with them and allow them just to relax into the most sacred of roles – the parents of a child.

Therefore, as part of the naming ceremony, we shared the congregation’s vision for Rabbi Julia’s maternity plan. We reminded the community that for the next three months, while on maternity leave, “Rabbi Julia” becomes “Just Julia.” We who have been so lovingly and tirelessly cared for by our Rabbi Julia, will want to care for her by allowing David and her to focus solely for baby Noam and each other. So as we see her in the mall, out at dinner, up online, we will NOT discuss Temple issues or updates with her. All temple related issues or concerns can be shared with her assistant or with Rabbi Paul Kipnes. Message delivered, we moved toward conclusion.

Birkat Kohanim: A Benediction for a Baby and Family

Since the blessings of the community are as significant as are those of the clergy, we asked everyone to stand up and form one complete, unbroken chain of hugs or hand-holds, reaching all the way forward to Noam’s grandparents and from them to Noam’s parents, and to him. Quickly the large gathering became even more intimate. The assembled repeated the words of Birkat Kohanim (the Priestly Benediction) to Noam.

It was a moment of kedusha (holiness). To purposely misquote our patriarch Jacob, Achen, yeish Adonai bamaqom hazeh vanochi ken yadati – Surely God was in this place, and we all knew it!

Throughout the service, we lovingly treated Rabbi Julia and David as just two parents (not a rabbi and her spouse). We articulated the hope and expectation that she gets to be mommy first for her child, rabbi next. You see, Rabbis and other Jewish professionals (as mommies and daddies) can have rich, deeply meaningful spiritual lives, if we just need to educate our communities, articulate the expectations, and pre-think a process to address issues that might arise.

How does your community work to care for your caretakers and leaders?

Julia David Noam IMG_0149 - Version 2

 Photos by Michael Kaplan

Rabbi Paul Kipnes serves Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, CA.

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General CCAR News Rabbis Reform Judaism

Nourishing the Jewish Spirit at Summer Camp

As I reflect on my two weeks as rabbinic faculty for the 6-7th grade session Shomrim, I am truly moved by the experience. I think I am one of the vatikim, having spent some 13 years growing up and serving on staff at Camp Swig, and nine summers on rabbinic faculty at Camp Newman.   With all of those experiences, this summer I felt the magic of Camp Newman in some new ways that I’d like to share with you all.

Quality of Staff:

There was a quality among the staff that showcased new levels to the Newman experience. From the morning shtick when Hebrew man appeared along with the presentation of a middah/value for the day, through the programming and how staff treated campers, deep Jewish soul instruction was present in a very engaging and delightful way. The songleaders were a team – no one stood out as the “ego” or super star. Everyone worked seamlessly together. What came through was incredible support and collaboration.

Having been at Camp Newman for some years, I felt as well the very high quality of the staff. The staff always love the campers, however in addition, I experienced a very high level of programming where the value of the day integrated into whatever program we were doing. Simple blackberry picking became an experience in cooperation as they picked for each other. Kindness for campers frequently moved me to tears. There was something set into the very fabric of the session so that children with various challenges were not only tolerated by the other campers, but loved. I witnessed again and again how a particular child, who would otherwise be ignored or teased in the non-camp world, was joyfully accepted.

DSC_6678-300x200As a former songleader at Camp Swig, I always pay close attention to the musical repetoire and how songs are taught. I saw that there was some experimentation with teaching songs in the Chadar Ochel with a powerpoint system allowing for both learning new songs, even more complex songs, but still making space for the current custom of dancing around. I also was thrilled with the sound system on the basketball courts for Shabbat. The quality of singing, the gentleness of the older campers toward the younger campers, and the method of leading dance from the small stage in the middle, made for a safe and exhilerating Shabbat.

This is a Reform Jewish summer camp and the campers really know their prayers. They exhuberantly bless the ritual washing of their hands, they are pretty ecstatic about the blessing before eating and even more joyful singing Birkat Hamazon with its inclusive prayer for our cousins, the children of Ishmael. There is some shtick, but it is precious shtick and kept at a respectful pace by the blessing leaders.

In the 6-7th grade session I worked with, the campers really knew the basic meaning of each prayer and were eager to lead, to write their interpretations and to participate in story telling.  We would pray at the Creek on Shabbat Morning till the end of Amidah and then walk up to another place for Torah reading. There was a trust among the counselors and the campers about respecting the beautiful space and participating in prayer there. The way I saw it, gently tossing pebbles into the water and watching the rippling out of circles was like the impact of Camp Newman and the broader affect it has on their lives.

Perhaps more than any other summer, I feel a calm intentionality from the senior staff. Rabbi Erin is a grounded presence. She always knows what is going on and what needed to go on – aware of both a specific child in need, as well as the perspective of how the camp is running and how the staff is collaborating. You feel here calm, grounded, aware presence directly when she speaks at Shabbat services and you sense it by how she speaks with all of us. Ruben creates a stable and vibrant energy from the first loving chorus of “Heveinu Shalom Aleichem” at the start of camp that only builds till the last night when campers shout with everything they’ve got, “I love being Jewish.”

At the start of my two weeks here, Rabbi Paul Kipnes spoke to the faculty about how we fold into an already working system. It was a very meaningful talk – reminding the faculty that we are here not for our own ego gratification nor to make things how we think they should be, but to respect what has been going on and flow into that stream. Putting egos at the door and seeing ourselves more as open vessels created within me even greater appreciation for all the work that had been put in place.

Before even arriving at camp, I was sent, along with all faculty, the names and email information of the leaders, the Rashim, of the session I’d work with along with the invitation to contact them. What a great thing! It took no time at all to email them just to check in and say how happy I was thinking of being at the session with them. In addition, we were invited to collect some texts on a particular value or “middah.” This too made me feel that I could be part of the collaboration with such talented young leaders.

As I near my 25th year of Rabbinic Ordination, I know, hands down, that Jewish summer camp is the very best way to nourish the Jewish spirit. As rabbis, we can preach our best sermons, we can sing our songs, we can shmooze at onegs and do all the things that we are supposed to do to feed our congregants’ Jewish identity. However, I am convinced that it is the high quality of Jewish learning at Camp Newman, the loving counselors and specialists and the grounded, organized and deeply committed leaders who are the ones who make the magic happen.

Rabbi Nancy Wechsler-Azen is rabbi of Congregation Beth Shalom in Carmichael, CA.  

 

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General CCAR Rabbis Reform Judaism

Week One: Thoughts from a New Rabbi

Being a seasoned rabbi of nearly five weeks and an experienced member of a clergy team for five days, I can honestly say that I have learned a great deal in such a short period of time.  You always hear from veteran professionals in any field that the real schooling comes after you receive a degree.  You always are told that the real teachers are those individuals whom you encounter every day.  Whether they are co-workers, patients, clients, or congregants, they are the ones who teach you how to do what you have always wanted to do well. 

I’ve learned that my passion for Judaism and commitment to the rabbinate allows me to embrace what it takes to be a rabbi, but it doesn’t make me a rabbi.  What makes me a rabbi are those moments of connection with others, those endless hours of planning, processing, and programming, and those difficult times in which you must say “no” so that you can honor the importance of self-care.  

In my first week of a rabbi, I even offered to work on my day off, simply because, in part, the congregation was waiting for me to start moving forward with the planning and implementation of the year to come.  The calendar meeting was postponed until I arrived, the ritual committee wanted to discuss the coming year, and mailings that would have been sent out months ago were held off until the entire clergy team could give their input.  I had to come into work on my day off.  I needed to show that I was responsible, eager, and committed.  What I quickly learned was that the best way to show that I was responsible, eager, and committed was to actually take the day off.  I needed to enjoy sleeping in, wearing my shorts, going to lunch with my wife, and spending time with my dog.  Both my Senior Rabbi and Executive Director reminded me that I need to not only take care of myself, but to create boundaries now that will become difficult to set later.

 I’ve learned how important it is to collaborate with not just your fellow clergy, but your administrative assistants, bookkeepers, membership coordinators, program directors, and even custodial staff.  In order for our congregations to be communities of welcoming, centers of Jewish life, and places our congregants want to be, we must act with humility, show our love and compassion for others, and treat each other with the same dignity that we seek to be treated. 

As rabbis, young and seasoned, we all advocate for a Judaism that is vibrant and enduring.  Perhaps what I have learned the most in my first week as a rabbi is that we have so much we can learn from each other.  My rabbinate will never be your rabbinate, and my conception of what it means to be a rabbi will never be your conception – and nor should it be.  Yet, our visions can be integrated and we can grow and enrich our rabbinates because of each other.  The best mentors are those who strive to connect with those whom they are mentoring, and the best mentees are those who both listen to their mentors, but also challenge them to challenge you.

It’s been a week and I’ve learned so much in such a short period of time.  As we quickly approach the month of Elul in less than a month, I can only wonder what other reflections I’ll glean in the weeks to come.

Rabbi Phillip (PJ) Schwartz is the assistant rabbi of Temple Israel, Westport, CT.