19 Elul 5780

 Rabbi Nancy Rita Myers

Forgiveness is hard but so necessary

A rabbi delivered a sermon one morning about the importance of forgiving one’s enemy.  Immediately afterwards, he asked, “How many of you are willing to forgive your enemies?” About half held up their hands.  Not satisfied, he repeated his question.  This time, he received a response of about 80 percent. Still unconvinced, he asked again. With all thoughts now on lunch, everyone raised their hands except one elderly lady in the rear. "Mrs. Cohen, are you not willing to forgive your enemies?" the rabbi wearily inquired.

"I don't have any," she replied.  "Mrs. Cohen, that is very unusual. How old are you?" "Ninety three," she asserted.  "Mrs. Cohen, please come down in front and tell the congregation how a person can live to be ninety-three, and not have an enemy in the world." The little sweetheart of a lady tottered down the aisle, very slowly turned around, and said, "It's easy, I just outlived the bastards."

So if your rabbi were to ask you, “How many of you are willing to forgive your enemies?”  How would you respond?  Maybe we can consider it for the sake of our health, wellbeing, family, and friendship circle.  Selicha, forgiveness, is hard.  It’s hard to let go but often we have to.  We can’t wait to outlive our adversaries, instead we can try to live and let live.  With an open heart, an openness for selicha, we can move on to a new stage of relating to others and living our lives fully.

18 Elul, 5780

 Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker

Chaskel Tydor was imprisoned in Buchenwald in 1939 and was sent to Auschwitz III in October 1942. As an older prisoner with experience in the camps, he was designated a block secretary, responsible for assigning work details. Around Rosh Hashanah, 1944, he arranged to send a group of religious prisoners on a work detail apart from others so they could pray as a minyan. When they returned, he learned that they had sounded a shofar. 

Mr. Tydor didn’t know how it was smuggled in. He never saw it until January 1945, when the Germans abandoned Auschwitz and forced the survivors on a 30-mile march. Another prisoner came up to him and pressed the shofar, wrapped in a rag, into his hand. “I’m going to die on this march. If you live, take this shofar. Tell them we blew the shofar at Auschwitz.”

Mr. Tydor survived the march and was liberated by the American Army on April 11, 1945. Later that year, he made it to the Land of Israel and off the coast of Haifa on Rosh Hashanah 1945, he blew the shofar. Original Story Here.

We blow the shofar to realize what we often forget – we are not the center of the universe. The shofar brings humility and appreciation of all that’s beyond our control. And in spite of it all, they blew shofar at Auschwitz. That reminds us that as powerless as we can feel, we choose how to live.

17 Elul, 5780

Rabbi Benjamin Sharff

At the writing of this post, my region of the country is recovering from the after-effects of Hurricane Isaias. Given that we are still struggling with the impact of Covid-19, one cannot help but feel an overwhelming loss of control.

As we learn from the story of Elijah in I Kings 19:11-12, “There was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks by the power of God; but God was not in the wind. After the wind – an earthquake; but God was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake – fire; but God was not in the fire. And after the fire – a still small voice.”

At times of great turmoil, it is easy to be overwhelmed and give into despair. But we learn from this story of Elijah that there is hope, we may just need to look for it in a different way. Instead of trying to find meaning in the devastation we can find God in those choosing to face the harsh realities of life and not be deterred.

The desire to change and transform comes from not a place of despair, but instead from a place of hope. A hope that one day soon, a new day will dawn. All we need to do is be ready to hear that still small voice, for it is calling us, just as it has called so many in previous times of great challenge. Are we ready to listen?

15-16 Elul, 5780

 On Fridays, we give you a double portion of our Elul Thoughts so that we can all take a rest from our electronics on Shabbat. Enjoy!

Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker

Did you ever hear the one about the person who found just the right balance between work and family and friends and volunteering and they were never stressed about anything? Yeah… neither have I.

During this time of reflection, it’s important to think about the decisions we make that impact other people. It is just as important to think about how our decisions impact our ability to care for ourselves – especially when we are living through a stress inducing pandemic.

Proverbs (12:25) teaches, “if there is anxiety in a person’s heart, they should yashḥena – which literally means, “suppress it.” Many people try – suppress and move on. But the Talmud (Yoma 75a) offers a different explanation. Instead of the word yashḥena, the same letters with different vowels can be pronounced yesiḥena, which means “to talk it out.” The idea is that if you’re stressed or anxious or annoyed or not satisfied or tearing your hair out – you should talk it out. 

Having a safe place to talk about our problems or frustrations is an important way to take care of ourselves. Often, sharing with family or friends is just what we need. And many times, it could be a little more serious or we need something a little more private, which is what therapy is for. In that situation, it’s possible that you might need to try a few therapists before you find the right one for you. Know this and know that self-care and your mental health is worth it.

Rabbi Eric Linder

I love the movie, Indian Summer. (As an aside, if you spent any amount of time at a summer camp growing up, you must watch this movie!) There’s a beautiful scene in the movie where Lou, the camp director, is telling some camp alumni about the camp and its future. He is thinking of selling the camp. At one point he says, “The camp is nothing but a bunch of old buildings.”

Our recent pandemic continues to remind me that the amazing power of our communities is not in our synagogues (“old buildings”), but in our communities. As I’ve told my congregation throughout these difficult months, our synagogue may be closed, but our community is wide open. 

I’m sure that we all are longing for the days when we can re-enter our houses of worship. But it may be helpful to know that this pandemic should not weaken our connection to each other, to God, or to our communities. In fact, it’s possible that some connections have been strengthened! 

As we approach these High Holidays and engage in this sacred time of introspection during Elul, let us remember that like the Gates of Repentance, our connections to our communities are wide open.

14 Elul, 5780

Rabbi David N. Young

Back in March when we started our stay at home, we thought it was fun. At first it was a unique time to hang out with the family, make cute videos, and hang out in pajamas. As the weeks went on we realized we needed to take this a little more seriously. We learned that the month or two we originally expected to sequester was not going to work unless everyone was doing it. Not everyone was doing it. (Though it varies by demographic, on average only 44% of people wear a mask all the time when they are in public, according to a poll from mid-July.) Then camps were cancelled, going to the beach was risky, travel was only possible by RV, and our emotions went from excited to intrigued to scared. 

However we deal with the realities of 2020, it brings comfort knowing that we are all dealing with this together. We are learning that physical distance does not need to mean social distance. Exactly like dealing with grief, we can find that our friends, family, and community are present for us. Even though we cannot give them a hug, we can give them a proverbial shoulder to cry on. They cannot hold our hand, but they can be a support to lean on. 

We may be distant, but we are here for each other.

13 Elul, 5780

 Rabbi Larry Malinger

Preparing our Journey with Others

As we prepare for the beginning of the New Year, our prayers are directed towards God, in our desire to reconnect with the Divine Presence in our lives. It is my hope that the following will help us along the way.

Philosopher John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) once wrote: “One person with a belief is equal to ninety-nine who have only interests.” A teaching from a Chassidic story during the Shoah – One cold night in a concentration camp, the prisoners were marched to a large field where there were two huge pits. The S.S. Commander barked, “Each one of you dogs who values life must jump the pits and land on the other side.” Among the Jews on the field was Rabbi Yisrael Spira, together with a freethinker, with whom he had developed a deep friendship. The freethinker argued that it could not be done. “Let us sit in the pit and wait for the bullets,” he said.

The Rebbe said, “We are jumping.” When they opened their eyes, they were alive on the safe side. The freethinker yelled, “Rebbe, we are here; we are alive. There must be a God in heaven. Tell me, Rebbe, how did you do it?” To which he responded, “I held on to my ancestral coattails. But how did you reach the other side? The freethinker said, “I was holding onto you.”

What we all need as we begin this New Year is an overwhelming faith that can carry us over the pits of life.

12 Elul, 5780

 Rabbi Benjamin Sharff

I am always searching for new metaphors to add to my arsenal in preparation for the Yamim Noraim. During the time of Covid, this endeavor has required more creativity as there are fewer physical places to explore. Hence, to my surprise and delight, I found inspiration from my refrigerator of all places.

Now bear with me, it is not so much what is inside the refrigerator, but an external indicator light. That light goes from green to yellow to red informing me that the water filter needs to be changed. The purpose of this filter is to separate out all of the undesirable particulates that can be found in the water supply. 

In this way, the water filter can serve as a metaphor for our souls. We start off during the New Year through the rigorous process of prayer and introspection to purify ourselves thus creating a ‘green’ soul, if you will. Over time, as we live our daily lives, schmutz begins to cloud our souls moving it from ‘green’ to ‘yellow’ and ultimately, to ‘red.’ Once again reminding us of the need to begin the process of purification all over again.

Yes, I know the metaphor is a little silly in part because we can’t just take out an old soul and replace it with a new one. The work is much harder than that, and it should be a daily activity not just an annual one. 

But as we spend less time out in the world, and more time at home with our loved ones and away from our places and people of inspiration; one can’t help but ask, where and how can we find the metaphors that will help prepare ourselves during this challenging time?