Marking the fiftieth anniversary of my ordination, it’s a natural impulse to reflect on the most wonderful rabbinic moments I’ve experienced. Tuesday evenings are among my fondest memories.
Each Tuesday at 6:00 p.m., at the mid-sized synagogue I served for more than three decades, sixty to seventy post b’nei mitzvah students would arrive for their weekly two-hour dosage of Jewish learning. In my sections, we would take on some eclectic topics, from Masada to Maimonides to mixed marriage. I always felt that a great deal was at stake each week. I wanted each student to leave feeling some degree of Jewish inspiration. And I desperately tried to avoid the greatest sin of all—being boring.
I had an advantage. I could “talk the talk,” whether bantering about hoops, or movies, or rock music, or being a bit irreverent. I was also drawn to those students who felt like outsiders. So, over pizza dinners, I’d schmooze with everyone, lead Birkat Hamazon, and then engage in topics that were carefully chosen, not only to draw interest, but really to teach and discuss about the remarkable story of our people. We avoided using the word “confirmation” (too assimilated), and we declined teaching comparative religion (we wanted to spend those precious two hours on our own heritage). We never had the resources to take our teenagers to Israel each year, but I constantly talked up the joy of Camp Harlam summers, and soon, a semester or year in Israel.
I made a point of keeping in touch with our students after their high school graduations, and even surveyed them, years later, about the impact of Tuesday evenings on their Jewish identities. Warning them not to “kiss up” to me, I invariably was told: “Those evenings were a wonderful part of my Jewish growth. It was great to have dinner with friends, to be encouraged to share thoughts, and to develop a greater appreciation of my Jewish story.”
These days, in semi-retirement, my challenges are on another level: Sally has dementia, and I’m now a caregiver for my wonderful wife of fifty-three years. I am supported in many ways, especially by the deep friendships of my colleagues in NAORRR. And I feel bolstered, as well, by the memory of Tuesday evenings with our teenagers. I remember them all—the jocks, the rebels, the conformists. I loved them all. It was profoundly challenging to try to inspire them Jewishly. Sometimes I succeeded. But the challenge was a deeply meaningful part of my life. I miss it more than anything else I ever did as a rabbi.
Josh Goldstein is Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Sha’arey Shalom, in Springfield, New Jersey, and founding rabbi of the Chai Center for Jewish Life in Watchung, New Jersey. We look forward to celebrating him and all of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis when we come together at CCAR Convention 2025.
mittee of rabbis who worked on this siddur quickly came to the conclusion that one siddur would not work for all ages. Different developmental needs needed to be met by creating two different books. The book for the younger children, which Michelle Shapiro Abraham did an incredible job creating will reach our youngest children at a level they can understand and connect to. The book for the older children will have more Hebrew, English readings at a different level and questions which will engage our older thinkers. The goal was the same for both – to engage children and families in prayer and encourage their spiritual growth.