Rabbi's Column - January 2025

Dear Friends,

In the days and weeks since Haviv Rettig Gur’s visit as our Scholar-in-Residence, my mind has been spinning with so many new ideas. I learned a great deal from Haviv’s visit, which I found highly educational, stimulating, and sometimes very challenging. I hope you enjoyed him as much as I did.

As I reflect on all Haviv shared with us, a few points stand out. I thought I’d share my top take-aways with you, as he offered a lot of insight to bridge divides: between generational perspectives; between Israelis and diaspora Jewry; and between our current knowledge and where we all want to be. Because truly, we could be better informed (myself included!).

1. Israeli Democracy endures as a function of its dialectic. In Israel, there is no distinction between the executive and legislature. Furthermore, parties with wildly divergent interests such as the Haredi (Ultra-Orthodox) UTJ and the Joint List (majority Arab parties) have sometimes even supported one another’s legislative priorities. Israel’s parties range from ultra-religious to secular; from socialist to communist. They reflect the ideological, ethnic, and religious diversity of the country as a whole. And like the proverbial “two Jews and three opinions,” the discussions on the floor of the k’nesset are often vigorous. They also serve as a sort of check on the society as a whole. Israel has no constitution or formal separation of powers as in the United States. Haviv argued that the inherent dialectic within this parliamentary system is one of Israel’s most important safeguards on democracy, as it presently stands.

2. Israelis want Israel to be moral. But first and foremost, they want their children to be safe. It is difficult for most Americans to understand the sense of existential threat that Israelis experience regularly — surrounded by falling rockets with a dearth of geographic buffers. Thank God we in the United States do not have to build bomb shelters under our kindergartens. Many Israelis, looking back at the failure of the Oslo peace process and the second Intifada, are skeptical that any Palestinian leader can be a true partner for peace. Ariel Sharon’s withdrawal from Gaza in 2005 similarly led to the armament and entrenchment of Hamas. Withdrawal from land in the absence of a peace process has only led to further bloodshed.

3. Israeli Jews don’t know much about diaspora Jews. American Jews don’t know much about Israelis. We used to have shlichim (young Israel emissaries) in our communities, to help build these bridges. We should bring that program back. We should send our kids to Israel, too. Israel should include diaspora relations among its educational priorities. And as Haviv accurately summarized, far too many American Jewish youngsters are unaware of their own story. Our Temple Educator, Ira Wise, and I, are committed to addressing this, with your partnership.

4. Israel’s Right has oftentimes fulfilled the promises of the Left. We’ve discussed this truism of Israeli politics in our Israel reading group and other classes here at TBT. Here are just a few examples:

• Prime Minister Menachem Begin, an icon of the revisionist Zionist camp, signed a peace treaty with Egypt in 1978 that returned the entirety of the Sinai Peninsula. Many in his Likud party criticized him for this, but history has vindicated the decision.

• Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, another stalwart of the right, unilaterally withdrew all Israeli settlers from Gaza. At the time, this was a popular decision, but very few would have expected Sharon to initiate it.

• As part of the Annapolis Conference of 2007, Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, another Likud leader, engaged in intensive negotiations with the Palestinians. He was willing to consider territorial concessions based around the 1967 borders. Unfortunately, these negotiations failed.

Israel’s current government is the most extreme in its history. The current Palestinian leadership is in no position to care for its own people, let alone negotiate for peace. Rather than fall into despair, it is helpful for me to remember that progress toward peace tends to come at unexpected times and in unlikely ways. Just consider the recent Abraham Accords. Normalization with Israel’s neighbors is achievable. There may even be a role for Saudi Arabia to play in the rebuilding of Gaza, as the Saudis and the Israelis inch closer toward diplomatic relations. As Jews, we pray for peace in every service, multiple times each day. We will never give up on peace.

If you didn’t have the chance to learn with Haviv last month, you can find him discussing many of the topics he addressed at TBT on these podcasts: What Matters Now or Call me Back. Finally, I want to exuberantly thank our Programming Committee leaders, Nancy Rosen, David Rosen, and Karen Rabinovici – as well as Temple Educator Ira Wise and our many dedicated volunteers – for making it such a successful weekend. It was a privilege to learn with all of you.

Shalom,

Rabbi Moss

President's Column - January 2025

As we step into January 2025, I find myself reflecting on the idea of simcha – joy. In Jewish tradition, joy is not merely a fleeting emotion; it is a profound state of being, an active practice that connects us to our faith, our heritage, and to one another. Yet in a world that often feels rushed, uncertain, and complex, finding moments of true Jewish joy can sometimes feel elusive. It is in these very moments that the synagogue has its most vital role to play.

The synagogue has always been more than just a physical space to me. It is a beit k'nesset – a house of gathering, where we come together to pray, to learn, and to share our lives. It is a beit midrash –a house of study, where we engage with our traditions, ask questions, and discover meaning. And it is a beit t’filah –a house of prayer, where we connect to something greater than ourselves. Today, as the needs of our community evolve, so too does the synagogue. It must adapt to changing times while staying true to its purpose: creating and sustaining Jewish joy.

What does Jewish joy look like in 2025? It can be found in the laughter of children at our religious school or family Shabbat dinners. It is the warmth of a congregant welcoming a newcomer. It is the shared pride of standing together during a bar or bat mitzvah singing Hinei Ma Tov in harmony. Jewish joy emerges in the small moments, in the bonds we form, and in the spiritual connection we cultivate. And it is needed now more than ever.

We are living in a time of change. Many are searching for meaning, balance, and a sense of belonging amidst the noise of daily life. Others are seeking ways to reconnect with their Jewish identity or their community. The synagogue must meet people where they are through innovative programming, inclusive spaces, and meaningful opportunities for engagement. Whether it is a Shabbat service filled with music, a community tikkun olam project, or a quiet moment of study, the synagogue can offer the spaces where joy can flourish.

In the year ahead, I encourage all of us to actively seek out Jewish joy. Attend a service, join a class, volunteer for a cause, be part of a task force or committee (we need help with both our capital campaign and our membership reimagination), or simply show up. The more you show up, the more joy you will receive, it’s that simple. The synagogue is here to welcome you, to inspire you, and to provide a home for that joy to grow.

Together, let us embrace the opportunity to create a vibrant, joyful Jewish future for ourselves, our families, and our community. May this year be one of reconnection, inspiration, and abundant joy. Let us move forward with open hearts and a renewed sense of purpose.

Josh Broder

Temple Beth Tikvah President

Temple Educator's Column - January 2025

I remember getting the same birthday card more than once. On the front was a picture of a forest of date palms. I think there was an Israeli flag somewhere in the background. It said, “In honor of your birthday, a tree has been planted in Israel.” When you open it, there is a guy in a bathrobe and sneakers, who needs a shave holding a watering can next to a little tiny sapling, and it says, “Your day to water it is Thursday.”

A trite joke for a serious purpose. The Keren Kayemet L’Yisrael – the Jewish National Fund (JNF) – was founded in 1901 to rebuild the land of our ancestors. Its leaders and supporters around the world raised funds to purchase land - currently it owns 13% of the land of Israel! They have indeed planted trees to turn the desert green. They have also built 180 dams and reservoirs to ensure access to water and established more than 1,000 parks!

Why am I talking about this now, in January? Because Tu Bishvat – the new year of the trees – is coming. Tu Bishvat is one of the several new years that we celebrate as Jews. (Rosh Hashanah – when the date changes, Simchat Torah – when we start a new year of Torah, January 1st , when we celebrate with the secular world, and the first day of the month of Nisan, just before Pesach, which the Torah calls the first month of the year).

As a religious school kid, I wondered why the New Year of the Trees fell while I was shoveling six inches of partly cloudy from my driveway in suburban Chicago. Turns out, January/ February is prime early planting season in the land of Israel. There is an expression over there that that from Pesach to Sukkot, there is no rain, and from Sukkot to Pesach the rain rarely stops. This is a country where everyone follows and talks about the water level of Lake Kinneret.

This year, Erev Tu Bishvat falls on Wednesday, February 12. That gives us time to invite YOU to plant a tree in Israel this year. We will be distributing information through the school and making it available to all to enable us to contribute to the JNF and plant a tree.

By the way, the card was not really a joke. In the picture you can see me actually planting a tree on the grounds of a middle school in South Tel Aviv ON TU BISHVAT! There was a drought that year, and very few trees were being planted. This school has a concentration on environmental studies and was granted special permission. Let’s plant a tree together. We can talk about going over there to water it soon enough!

L’ Shalom

Ira Wise

TBT Temple Educator

Rabbi's Column - December 2024

Dear Friends,

In the days and weeks since Haviv Rettig Gur’s visit as our Scholar-in-Residence, my mind has been spinning with so many new ideas. I learned a great deal from Haviv’s visit, which I found highly educational, stimulating, and sometimes very challenging. I hope you enjoyed him as much as I did.

As I reflect on all Haviv shared with us, a few points stand out. I thought

I’d share my top take-aways with you, as he offered a lot of insight to bridge

divides: between generational perspectives; between Israelis and diaspora Jewry;

and between our current knowledge and where we all want to be. Because truly, we could be better informed (myself included)!

President's Column - December 2024

Dear Friends,

In the second century BCE, the Holy Land was under the rule of the Seleucids (Syrian-Greeks), who sought to impose Greek culture and beliefs on the people of Israel, undermining their observance of mitzvot and devotion to G d. Against incredible odds, a small group of faithful but poorly armed Jews, led by Judah the Maccabee, defeated one of the most powerful armies of the time. They drove the Greeks out, reclaimed the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, and rededicated it to the service of G d.

When they went to light the Temple's Menorah (the seven-branched candelabrum), they found only a single cruse of pure olive oil that had not been contaminated. Miraculously, this small amount of oil burned for eight days—enough time to prepare a new supply under the proper conditions of ritual purity. Like Passover, Hanukkah is a celebration of freedom—freedom from oppression and the ability to practice religious expression. The Hebrew word Chanukah means "dedication," commemorating the rededication of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem.

The Festival of Lights, another name for Chanukah, is one of my favorite Jewish holidays. While other kids anticipated Christmas, I was eagerly preparing for Chanukah. Why? Because what’s better than freshly made latkes (with chives and scallions for extra flavor—delicious!), sufganiyot (Hebrew for doughnuts), playing dreidel with chocolate gelt as prizes, and lighting the menorah while singing traditional songs and blessings? (Ma’oz Tzur or Rock of Ages—is my personal favorite. My mom made my brother and me sing it every night of Chanukah when we were kids.) And let’s not forget the cherry on top: eight nights of presents!

Chanukah arrives each year near the winter solstice, when daylight is at its shortest. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest times, there’s always light ahead. As we enter winter and reflect on the ongoing war in Israel—now 14 months long—let us pray for light at the end of this dark tunnel. Just as the oil miraculously lasted eight nights, let us hope for a miracle: the safe release of all remaining hostages. That would truly embody the spirit of Chanukah.

I want to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to the TBT Board of Trustees, the Leadership Council, our clergy and staff, and all the amazing volunteers who dedicate themselves to our incredible community. A special thank-you goes to two remarkable lay leaders, Suzy Frisch and Andrea SanMarco. Their tireless efforts— whether supporting our staff, stepping in during crunch times, or simply always being present—are invaluable TBT wouldn’t be the same without their dedication. Thank you both!

Nes gadol haya sham —“a great miracle happened there.” These words, inscribed on the dreidel, remind us of the miracles Chanukah represents. May the light of this season inspire all of us to shine brightly, even in challenging times, and to dedicate ourselves to something greater—this extraordinary TBT community.

Happy Chanukah from my family to yours!
Josh Broder,
President, Temple Beth Tikvah

Temple Educator's Column - December 2024

The TRUE story of Chanukah

The difference between Jewish and secular calendars this year means that Religious School is not in session for Chanukah. We adapt. And that to me, is the lesson of Chanukah – and of the Jewish people for that matter. We survived nearly 2,000 years of exile and being kicked out of nearly every country and city state in Europe – not to mention the Roman empire, the Crusades, the Inquisition and the Holocaust – by adapting. We continually find ways to not simply survive, but to thrive and find new joys in living Jewishly.

I am going to share some historical accuracy with you now. Do not confuse that with Truth. Truth is what we believe in our hearts. Sometimes it is informed by historical events. Sometimes by our beliefs. If hearing something different about Chanukah will disturb you, I urge you to scroll to the next article. This is not something that you NEED to know.

Still with me? Judah and the rest of the Maccabees were real. We have lots of contemporary evidence. It is extremely unlikely, however, that any of them ever heard about a little jug of oil that burned for eight days. The first time we hear that part of the story is in the Babylonian Talmud, written 460-660 years after the actual events.

In the First Book of the Maccabees, written just four years after the war, the dedication is celebrated for eight days just as the original temple dedication under King Solomon and dedication of the tabernacle in the wilderness with Moses, Miriam and Aaron was held. And Judah declared all Jews everywhere should celebrate each year.

Forty years later, it seems that Jewish communities outside of the land of Israel were not celebrating Chanukah. So, a Second Book of Maccabees was written. “They celebrated it for eight days with rejoicing, in the manner of the Feast of Booths, remembering how not long before, during the Feast of Booths, they had been wandering in the mountains and caves like wild animals.” It seems the holiday soon gained traction in the diaspora communities after that. Still no oil though.

One hundred and ninety or so years after the original events, Flavius Josephus describes the first Chanukah. Josephus had been a Judean general in the war against Rome that resulted in the destruction of the second Temple in Jerusalem in 70 C.E. He went over to the Roman side and spent the rest of his life writing about Jewish history and customs. Historians believe that he was trying to create an image of the Jewish people in the minds of the Romans that would lead them to think we were not a threat and should leave us alone. He wrote: “Judah celebrated the festival of the restoration of the sacrifices of the temple for eight days, and omitted no form of pleasures…” A very Roman type of simcha.

Finally, Pesikta Rabbati is a collection of Midrashic tales written in the land of Israel in the 8th or 9th century CE. while the land was under Muslim rule. In it we read “When they entered the Temple, they found eight rods of iron (spears), which they hollowed out and then kindled wicks in oil which they had poured in the grooves.” This version reminds us of turning swords into plow shares – making weapons into tools of peace. A good metaphor while living under foreign rule.

So too, the Talmudic story of the oil teaches those around us that we are not looking for a fight. God made the miracle of the oil and the victory of the few over the many – not humans. We celebrate God and our faith not war.

In each case, we adapted. In each case we recast the story in a way that gives us reason to celebrate. I am not debunking the story of the oil and its miracle. I am saying we have four more facets to the jewel that is Chanukah. They are ALL our stories.

And I am sticking to them. I invite you to join me. No need to tell the young kids just yet.

L’shalom,
Ira Wise, Temple Educator

Rabbi's Column - November 2024

Dear Friends,

It’s time to vote! I hope all of us will make our voices heard at the polls.

I also realize that this election comes with no small measure of anxiety. If that’s so, perhaps we can uncover other feelings at the polls, too: hope, patriotism, and gratitude for this extraordinary and flawed place we call home.

Does that sound hard? Harder still is the family Thanksgiving Table. Uncle Leo always votes the same way, and needs everyone else to know why. Oy vey

I recently officiated a funeral for a man who was passionate about a certain side of the political aisle. On Thanksgiving he would turn on the TV and get into it with those who disagreed. But then everyone would sit down to break bread together, and they’d stop arguing. They remembered they were friends.

Let’s remember that we’re all friends.

Here’s some Torah to help with perspective: During Sukkot, our Torah Study group studied Kohelet (Ecclesiastes), the sacred book associated with the holiday. The book opens like this:

Utter futility!—said Koheleth—
Utter futility! All is futile!
What real value is there for a man
In all the gains he makes beneath the sun? 
One generation goes, another comes,
But the earth remains the same forever. 
The sun rises, and the sun sets—
And glides back to where it rises. 
Southward blowing,
Turning northward,
Ever turning blows the wind;
On its rounds the wind returns. 
All streams flow into the sea,
Yet the sea is never full;
To the place [from] which they flow
The streams flow back again. […]
Only that shall happen
Which has happened,
Only that occur
Which has occurred;
There is nothing new
Beneath the sun!

דִּבְרֵי֙ קֹהֶ֣לֶת בֶּן־דָּוִ֔ד מֶ֖לֶךְ בִּירוּשָׁלָֽ͏ִם׃

הֲבֵ֤ל הֲבָלִים֙ אָמַ֣ר קֹהֶ֔לֶת הֲבֵ֥ל הֲבָלִ֖ים הַכֹּ֥ל הָֽבֶל׃

מַה־יִּתְר֖וֹן לָֽאָדָ֑ם בְּכׇ֨ל־עֲמָל֔וֹ שֶֽׁיַּעֲמֹ֖ל תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ׃

דּ֤וֹר הֹלֵךְ֙ וְד֣וֹר בָּ֔א וְהָאָ֖רֶץ לְעוֹלָ֥ם עֹמָֽדֶת׃

וְזָרַ֥ח הַשֶּׁ֖מֶשׁ וּבָ֣א הַשָּׁ֑מֶשׁ וְאֶ֨ל־מְקוֹמ֔וֹ שׁוֹאֵ֛ף זוֹרֵ֥חַֽ ה֖וּא שָֽׁם׃

הוֹלֵךְ֙ אֶל־דָּר֔וֹם וְסוֹבֵ֖ב אֶל־צָפ֑וֹן סוֹבֵ֤ב ׀ סֹבֵב֙ הוֹלֵ֣ךְ הָר֔וּחַ וְעַל־סְבִיבֹתָ֖יו שָׁ֥ב הָרֽוּחַ׃

כׇּל־הַנְּחָלִים֙ הֹלְכִ֣ים אֶל־הַיָּ֔ם וְהַיָּ֖ם אֵינֶ֣נּוּ מָלֵ֑א אֶל־מְק֗וֹם שֶׁ֤הַנְּחָלִים֙ הֹֽלְכִ֔ים שָׁ֛ם הֵ֥ם שָׁבִ֖ים לָלָֽכֶת׃

כׇּל־הַדְּבָרִ֣ים יְגֵעִ֔ים לֹא־יוּכַ֥ל אִ֖ישׁ לְדַבֵּ֑ר לֹא־תִשְׂבַּ֥ע עַ֙יִן֙ לִרְא֔וֹת וְלֹא־תִמָּלֵ֥א אֹ֖זֶן מִשְּׁמֹֽעַ׃

מַה־שֶּֽׁהָיָה֙ ה֣וּא שֶׁיִּהְיֶ֔ה וּמַה־שֶּׁנַּֽעֲשָׂ֔ה ה֖וּא שֶׁיֵּעָשֶׂ֑ה וְאֵ֥ין כׇּל־חָדָ֖שׁ תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ!

Kohelet offers a very different philosophy than we find elsewhere in the Bible. Some might call it cynical or fatalistic. There is some truth there, but it is not, I think, pessimistic. When life is getting us down, Kohelet helps us take the long view. One empire falls, and another rises. Suffering gives way to joy — each in its season turns and returns. Life goes on. This may not give us great comfort about the worries of tomorrow, but it helps us to consider our role in the many tomorrows to come. When we are overwhelmed, Kohelet reminds us that today’s woes are but a drop in the cosmic bucket. When we feel insignificant, he reminds us that life is to be lived with intention and gratitude:

Go, eat your bread in gladness, and drink your wine in joy; for your action was long ago approved by God. Let your clothes always be freshly washed, and your head never lack ointment.
Enjoy happiness with the one you love all the fleeting days of life that have been granted to you under the sun—all your fleeting days. (9.7-9)

The great writer Isaac Babel describes the modern Jew as someone with “spectacles on his nose and autumn in his heart.” I love this turn of phrase. I love its poetic brevity. I love it because autumn is by far my favorite season, and I always have spectacles on my nose. I love our Holy Days, rich as they are with hope, honesty, unity, and the humble bow-of-the-head in the face of mortality. Autumn aligns with the Jewish condition because, for me, anyway, it underscores these truths:

We are a spiritually connected people, not just a religion;
We are a people of action first; and belief second;
We are a people of the land, not just people living in a given land; and
Autumn’s melancholy anticipates winter, but its pragmatism starts in abundance.

At this time of year I think back to a stirring essay by Adam Wilson. He likens Babel's assertion of Jewishness to the experience of a new parent: a condition “of anxiety, of omnipresent awareness of the soft spot on the infant’s skull.” 

The other side of that awareness, of course, is the beauty of new beginnings and unknown possibilities. If we can open our hearts to these mirror-image truths — both life’s discontents and its unexpected delights — we are most likely to be happier, healthier, and more resilient. That’s an attitude of abundance we can all take to our Thanksgiving Table.

All streams flow into the sea,
Yet the sea is never full;
To the place from which they flow
The streams flow back again.

Shalom,
Rabbi Danny Moss

President's Column - November 2024

Dear Friends,

In Judaism, gratitude is a core principle and a way of life, expressed through words, actions, and attitudes. The Hebrew term for gratitude, hakarat ha'tov, translates to "recognizing the good." Jewish teachings emphasize that gratitude can simplify our lives, even in difficult times. Grateful individuals tend to be more optimistic and less affected by jealousy and anxiety over what they lack. As we approach Thanksgiving in a few weeks, I want to share what I am thankful for and express my gratitude.

I am grateful for my family—my loving wife, Alison, and my incredible son, Cooper. They are my pillars of strength, and without them, I would feel lost. I am thankful for my clients who trust me and my team to guide them through their financial journeys. I am also grateful for my TBT friends and family, especially the dedicated Board of Trustees and Leadership Council who support our governance efforts. Our clergy and professional staff—Rabbi Moss, Ira, Kim, Caroline, Jen, and our custodians—are the real heroes who keep TBT running smoothly. And, of course, I am thankful for all our member families; without you, TBT would not exist. Lastly, I appreciate our volunteers, like Alan Friedman and David Sack, who I mentioned during my Rosh Hashanah speech. Their commitment is vital for TBT’s survival.

On that note, I’d like to reiterate two key points from my Rosh Hashanah address. First, David Sack has generously agreed to lead the final phase of TBT’s capital campaign, helping us reach our goal. For those unfamiliar, David is the son of Ed and Gloria Sack, of blessed memory. Ed was deeply involved in our financial matters and always focused on our future. David and his team will be reaching out to you, so I encourage you to engage with them—pick up the phone, respond to emails, and have conversations about our renovations and TBT’s financial future. Your involvement is crucial for the long-term success of our congregation. We are also looking for more volunteers to assist in this effort, so if you're interested, please reach out to me for more information.

Second, I want to address the need to reimagine and modernize TBT’s financial structure, a challenge we've discussed for over a decade. What does reimagining TBT’s finances mean? It involves creating a new model for membership and engagement. This fiscal year, excluding the preschool, our budget is approximately $800,000. The cost to run TBT per paying member household is about $3,000, while the average membership dues are around $2,500, resulting in a $500 deficit per member household. This gap is why we rely on our annual fund and charge for certain events, and it’s why dues have increased in recent years due to rising costs.

Many synagogues across the country have successfully restructured their financial models, and we will explore similar options. For instance, Kol Tikvah, a Reform congregation in Parkland, Florida, has developed a model called "Judaism My Way," allowing members to engage with the synagogue according to their individual needs while upholding shared values and financial flexibility. While I’m not yet sure if this model or another will suit TBT, we will investigate these possibilities in the coming months and years.

Dr. Alan Friedman will lead a special task force to explore how we can modernize TBT’s engagement and membership. This task force will focus on welcoming members of all ages, backgrounds, and family structures, especially as many Jews along the shoreline remain unaffiliated. They will ensure that any new ideas sustain TBT for years to come. If you’re interested in shaping TBT’s future, please reach out to me to join this important initiative.

So, this is my way of recognizing the good. There is so much more I could say, but for now, this is plenty. Have a happy Thanksgiving, filled with family, friends, and football, and don’t forget to share your hakarat ha’tov; it might just brighten someone’s day.

As a fun aside, the Hebrew word for turkey is tarnegol Hodu (India chicken). It’s unclear whether this name came from turkeys reaching the Jewish community via India or from some historical confusion. Regardless, it’s often shortened to simply Hodu, which means both "India" and "thanks," as in Hodu L’Adonai ki tov. So, the bird we enjoy on Thanksgiving is literally known in Hebrew as "thanks." How fitting!

Josh Broder,
TBT President

Temple Educator's Column - November 2024

From the Education Center

TBT's Religious School curriculum is built around Jewish values, beginning with those in our temple mission statement. That value is Kehilah – community. We have a wonderful faculty; a few being members of TBT. Half of them are undergraduates who bring a youthful energy that is contagious. We are lucky to have them all. Even so, I would like us to develop a new muscle in our Kehilah Kedoshah – our sacred community. I invite every adult in our congregation to give serious thought to the idea of becoming a teacher or a substitute in our Religious School. Maybe not right away, but soon.

 Throughout my career I have preferred to hire members of the congregation whenever possible. You bring a sense of ownership, of long-term commitment to this community. And you bring something to our kids that is unique. You serve as a special kind of Dugma – a personal example. And that – Dugma – is another one of our values. Dugma sometimes results in one kid saying to another, "Wow, Cooper! It is so cool that your dad is our teacher!"

I have been so grateful and proud that so many temple members joined the faculty. When members become teachers, the village really does raise our children. And it makes us all feel even MORE engaged. I invite you to become even more hands on, my fellow villagers. This is not solely - or even primarily - a request to our members who are educational professionals. Two of the best teachers I ever worked with were not professionally trained teachers.

 Sy Bierman was my Religious School classmate. He was a treasury agent by day, pursuing counterfeiters, among other financial crimes. He was our fifth-grade teacher and he was amazing. He was so amazing that parents began demanding he teach their kids. When I graduated college and joined the faculty, another teacher and I were each assigned one-third of the year with different groups of 8th graders, just so that every 8th grader would have part of the year with Sy. I was proud to call him my teacher and my colleague.

 Mort Wolin was one of the first teachers I worked with as a temple educator. He was in sales. He was a very soft-spoken gentleman whose grandsons were in our school. He was also the sole Jewish survivor of Baronovich, Poland. The leaders of the Jewish community were able to get a single visa from the Nazis in 1940. They chose to give it to him and send him to America because he was the valedictorian – their greatest hope for the future. His experiences in Poland, being a father and grandfather and his career in sales made him a great teacher. He loved

Judaism and transmitting it to the young, and as a good salesperson, he knew to listen as much or more than he spoke, giving his students agency and encouraging their curiosity.

Many years ago, Eric Yoffee, then the President of the Reform Movement (URJ), declared that the path to synagogue leadership should pass through the classroom. Moreover, he said that we all need to take a more direct role in the education of our congregation’s children. There are some synagogues even smaller than ours that require new members to take a turn as a teacher.

Please consider taking yours. And we are still looking for classroom support right now. Call me. Email me. Let’s help our youngest villagers grow and take their places among us.

L’shalom,
Ira Wise
Temple Educator

Rabbi's Column - October 2024

Dear Friends,

This month marks one year since Hamas’ brutal attack on Israel. The hostages are still held captive. As I write these words, it looks as though a full-scale war may erupt in Lebanon. Susan’s friend in Israel’s north has been texting her from a bomb shelter. Any hope of a speedy resolution has long since evaporated. Israel’s suffering is great. The suffering of the Palestinians, too, is great. Our hearts break again and again as we confront the human toll and fading prospects for peace.

It pains us to see a country we love in such straits.
It pains us to witness the suffering of our Jewish siblings.
It pains us to know that our people remain implicated in a cycle of violence and reprisal that Israel’s existence was mean to end forever.

In the words of Rachel Goldberg-Polin, mother of hostage Hersh Goldberg-Polin z”l:

There is a lullaby that says your mother will cry a thousand tears before you grow to be a man.
I have cried a million tears in the last 67 days.
We all have.
And I know that way over there there’s another woman who looks just like me
because we are all so very similar
and she has also been crying.
All those tears, a sea of tears,
they all taste the same…

It didn’t have to be this way. Last Rosh HaShanah, I shared my concern that Israel’s extremist government threatened its Jewish and democratic character, and obstructed the road to peace. Then came October 7th. A systemic failure of Israel’s security apparatus evolved into a war in Gaza that, over time, felt motivated more by vengeance than by any coherent strategy. Prime Minister Netanyahu has clashed publicly with his own defense minister, Yoav Gallant, over that very point. The centrist MK Benny Gantz resigned from the war cabinet earlier this year in protest. He claimed that Netanyahu was more interested in retaining power than reaching a planful resolution and freeing the hostages. And it’s not just Gantz: for months, hundreds of thousands of Israelis — including the families of many hostages — have protested his intransigence. Of course, none of this comes as a surprise: for years, Netanyahu has repeatedly, publicly, opposed peace. His support of violent extremists and immoral settlement policies in the West Bank is a stain on Israel’s conscience, and I believe it makes Jews around the world less safe. Most Israelis want Netanyahu out of office, but his coalition is still hanging on — for now.

On a different front, world Jewry has confronted an explosion of antisemitism. (Let's call it what it really is: Jew-hatred.) As you know, the numbers were already trending in the wrong direction before the war, but this year things have reached a new low.

▪ When I read the text messages exchanged among Columbia University deans;

▪ When I studied the Stanford University report detailing not merely discrete incidents, but rather a pernicious culture of hate;

▪ When I have had to console TBT students who have been taunted, followed, and harassed;

▪ When I confronted all this and more, I knew that the floodgates had burst open on both sides.

The rise of antisemitism on the left mirrors its long history on the right. Surely it cannot be out of bounds to criticize a government. But to blame Jews around the world for the actions of that government is unbridled antisemitism. To exclude people from bookstores or restaurants if they support Israel, is hatred. To hurl the word “Zionist” as an epithet, is bigotry.

Many of us feel we must walk an impossible tightrope: we support Israel’s safety, while we may have real qualms about its leaders and policies. Meanwhile the world seems to hate us no matter where we stand. To be sure, this is not a comfortable place to be.

As you might imagine, the High Holy Days will feel different this year. We need to mark this time as a community in solidarity with our Jewish siblings around the world. We need a place to process our grief. We need to draw strength from one another. Throughout the Days of Awe, you will find special sermons, music, and communal rituals. Between the holidays, we will gather at TBT to mark one year since the war began on Sunday October 6th, 12 pm. The following evening, on October 7th, there will be a ceremony of remembrance and solidarity with Israel, for the broader Jewish Community. All are welcome.

Finally, I urge you to please save the date for the weekend of December 6th-8th, when TBT will be privileged to welcome Times of Israel Senior Analyst Haviv Rettig Gur. Haviv is a remarkable thought leader. His visit to our community marks a truly special opportunity to learn and reflect. It is not every day TBT can welcome a speaker of his caliber, let alone for an entire weekend.

When I am feeling distraught, I remember that the pain of the Jewish people has often presaged new growth. Perhaps that is why Rachel Goldberg Polin concludes her poem with a hope that I would like to share with you. And so, I cite her poem again, this time in full:

All those tears, a sea of tears
they all taste the same.
Can we take them/ gather them up,
remove the salt/ and pour them over our desert of despair
and plant one tiny seed.

Shalom,
Rabbi Danny Moss