Rabbi's Column - December 2024

**Warning - grisly details of the REAL Chanukah story below**

Dear Friends,

Despite what you may have heard, the Chanukah story is really not for kids.

It is tempting to force history into neat little moral packages. For Jewish immigrants to the United States, Chanukah became a tale of liberty — religious freedom hard-won by the righteous Maccabees. Don’t get me wrong, there are good reasons to identify with that aspect of the story. But that is not the whole story. The fuller version includes a mix of political intrigue, sectarian infighting, and bloody betrayals. For instance, Judah Maccabee’s successor Simon was murdered by his son-in-law in a power grab. Later, Aristobulus I, the first Hasmonean/Maccabee to declare himself king, did so by imprisoning and starving his mother. His successor, Alexander Yannai, sparked a civil war with the Jewish sect called the Pharisees. In an especially dark turn, he ordered the crucifixion of 800 of his Jewish political rivals.

As you can see, the Maccabees were not messiahs. The sectarian infighting, in particular, foreshadowed bitter Jewish divisions that would lead to the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by the Romans 200 years or so later, leading the Talmud to attribute the dissolution of the great Jewish commonwealth to sinat chinam — reckless hatred. (Yoma 9b)

The real story of the Maccabees, then, is both a reflection on hard-fought freedom and a cautionary tale against the corrosive effects of power. The victim had prevailed over the tyrant — hooray! But now what? Unfortunately, that ‘now what’ for the powerless newly grasping power, so often leads down a dark road.

I’m pulling back this particular curtain to invite reflection on how we think of history. Instead of viewing it in black and white terms — replete with heroes and villains, victims and oppressors — what would it look like to view history as a dialectic? Our stories contain beautiful kernels of light, but also warnings of the abuses of power and the excesses of ethnic pride. There are profound lessons to learn from real history — lessons that complement and complicate the beautiful miracle of the oil that burned for eight days. When we embrace our history and ourselves with honest reflection, then, we stand to learn and grow the most.

This dilemma certainly lends perspective to the challenges of divisive times. It also makes me feel so very lucky to live in the United States, a country conceived to end tyranny and political instability forever. It is so easy to take for granted concepts like rights, representative government, and checks and balances. It is easy to forget just how unusual these ideas are — not just in the scope of human history, but in the modern world, too.

And what can we learn from the real Chanukah story, today? We all need to be a part of democracy. No matter who is in the white house we must protect it. Whereas the Maccabees were soldiers of war, we are all, to paraphrase the great Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin, soldiers for peace. And as soldiers for peace, we cannot tolerate the winnowing of democracy any more than Judah stood by when the tolerant Syrian- Greeks began to persecute Jews.

To learn more about the real story behind the holiday, I invite you to a class I am teaching on Sunday, December 15th at 11 AM. I am calling it From Despair to Triumph: The Maccabee in Ancient History and Modern Judaism. Together we will examine how the famous story of Judah and his brothers has migrated, evolved, and informed Jewish self-understanding in present-day America and Israel. Please email Caroline (office@tbtshoreline.org) to sign up.

While we light our Chanukiot (Chanukah menorahs) this year, let us not elide the darker aspects of our history. They remind us of the dangers we may yet avoid.

May this Chanukah be built with light and vigilance. Where the Macabees fought military battles, let us continue to fight peacefully for a better America and a vibrant democracy.

Chag Urim Sameach (Happy Festival of Lights),
Rabbi Moss

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

Temple Educator's Column - October 2024

From the Education Center

This month we will all spend a lot of time thinking about (and hopefully doing) T’shuvah - repentance. The High Holy liturgy and all of the practice surrounding the Days of Awe demands that we atone, we change our hurtful behaviors and seek to make restitution with those we have wronged. Remember this for a moment while I digress, please.

When I started working in the religious school as a ninth grader in Chicago, they called me an aide. By the time I became a teacher eight years later, we were calling teens doing this work Madrikhim. (A boy was a madrikh and a girl was a madrikhah.) It means “leader or one who shows the way.” It was a good name. And that was what we were calling them here at TBT through last May.

Hebrew, like French and Spanish, is a gendered language. It is simply how it developed from ancient times. And I am sure you are aware that the language surrounding gender in our society has become very fluid and somewhat complicated. When we get it wrong – in the eyes of the person about whom we are speaking – we may cause pain, harm, and even alienation. It does not matter that we did not intend to do so. The impact of our words matter.

This past spring the Education Committee had a discussion about this and came to the conclusion that we need to do a bit of T’shuvah. It is entirely possible that we have not had a single madrikh or madrikhah who identified as non-binary. It is also possible that we might have, but the titles we used for teens who just wanted to connect and help teach kept someone away who did not identify as male or female. We may be lucky and can fix the language before someone feels that their temple does not have a place for them in this role.

So, the committee has changed the name of the group to the Hadrakhah Team. Hadrakhah means “leadership,” so the basic intent is the same. These teens are still showing our younger learners the way to go forward. And we will call them Hadrakhahniks – a word that is a bit of mixed language salad, but a word pioneered by the Kibbutzniks! It will take time to wrap our tongues around this change, but it gives us the opportunity to be as welcoming as we have always tried to be.

L’shanah tova u’metukah and G’mar Chatimah Tovah,

Ira Wise
Temple Educator

Rabbi's Column - September 2024

Dear Friends,

In 1727, Benjamin Franklin assembled a small group of friends to form the Leather Apron Club. They would gather weekly to discuss the great quandaries of human nature with an eye toward mutual self-improvement. Franklin's vision was to pursue character refinement through 13 virtues such as temperance, justice, and humility. He believed that personal growth was a dimension of civic responsibility and that building an ethical populace was a prerequisite for a more perfect Union.

In his autobiography, Franklin later reflected that these weekly "debates" were … "to be conducted in the sincere spirit of inquiry after truth…" without any desire to win. In fact, Franklin describes how, wanting to keep things calm, the group rejected expressions of absolute certainty, which they "prohibited under small pecuniary penalties." [!!]

Franklin’s legacy of statesmanship and self-improvement are worthy of emulation. In anxious times like these, his idea may strike us as more than a little quaint; his rules of discourse, a tad naïve. But if we’re honest, the dramatic national political issues inflated with urgency and outrage by an apoplectic media culture do not always reflect our day-to-day lives. Rather, most of us stand to make the greatest impact locally: in our congregation, our community, and our homes.

Judaism believes (and I suspect Franklin would agree) that the most important level is to start with the person in the mirror. That’s why we have the Hebrew month of Elul, a penitential period of personal reflection leading up to the High Holy Days. That’s what the High Holy Days are all about.

Given that this is an election year, I thought I’d try something new.

On four Wednesdays after Labor Day, we will revive Benjamin Franklin’s Leather Apron Club. Together we will immerse ourselves in Franklin’s teachings — and here’s the twist — through a Jewish lens. As we enter the contemplative month of Elul and navigate a crucial election year, we will place Franklin’s virtues in conversation with the timeless wisdom of Pirkei Avot, an ancient collection of ethical wisdom from the Mishnah. Together we will discover how these principles can coalesce into our fully American, fully Jewish lives. I hope that our time together will give us renewed optimism and hope about what we can accomplish in the year ahead.

Simply RSVP to Caroline in the office (office@tbtshoreline.org) to sign up. You’ll find more information in the following pages.

Oh, and I promise there will be no pecuniary penalties.

Shalom,
Rabbi Danny Moss

President's Column - September 2024

Hello TBT Community,

I hope everyone had a wonderful summer filled with sun, fun, family, friends, and relaxation. It’s hard to believe how quickly the summer has flown by, but now it's time for football, cool evenings, and the start of a new school year—both secular and religious. The Jewish High Holidays are also just around the corner.

At TBT, we’re gearing up for a busy fall season. You might notice that our front offices have been refreshed with new paint and furniture, and we’re thrilled to welcome a new team member, Caroline Sereyko, our new Communications and Administrative Coordinator, who joined TBT on July 1st. If you haven’t had the chance to meet Caroline yet, please introduce yourself next time you’re at the synagogue.

This fall is packed with activities! We kick off on Friday, September 6th, with the installation service for our Temple Educator, Ira Wise. The service begins at 6 PM and will include some special guests, followed by a community dinner. We also have two Bar Mitzvahs coming up on September 7th and 14th. The TBT Religious School will start on Sunday, September 8th. Selichot services are scheduled for Saturday, September 28th, and the High Holidays will begin with Erev Rosh Hashanah services on October 2nd. We are excited to welcome back our amazing soloist from last year, Rachel Policar, who will be joining us for the holidays and on several other occasions throughout the year.

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, brings back fond memories from my childhood. Every year, my grandmother would send my brother and me a check with the instruction to buy new clothes for shul. She always wanted us to look and feel our best as we stood before G-d, seeking forgiveness and starting fresh for the new year. Just as the secular New Year is synonymous with resolutions, Rosh Hashanah should be no different. As we approach the year 5785, let’s all make resolutions to better ourselves, our families, our community, and the world.

Consider making a resolution to get more involved at TBT in whatever way makes the most sense for you. Volunteer your time by joining a committee, a task force, a Kesher group, or helping with a program. If you’re able, please contribute financially by donating to the capital campaign (to help pay down our debt from the recent renovation project), the annual fund, or any other TBT need. You can also offer a special skill that could benefit our community.

Years ago, I decided to join the TBT board to help make our small community a welcoming place for all Jews on the shoreline. We’re heading in the right direction, but we need your help to continue this journey. We’re looking for feedback and solutions from the entire congregation. Whether you’ve been a TBT member since the 1970s or just joined last week, we need you and we want to hear from you! If we all resolve to get involved in ways that work for us, I can only imagine the incredible progress our already amazing community will achieve.

I look forward to seeing everyone this fall and to continuing our work together to fulfill the vision of this community.

L'shalom,
Josh Broder

Temple Educator's Column - September 2024

From the Education Center - Let’s Play Two…

The summer of 2016 was amazing for me. In our family we had new jobs, a high school graduation and the last child was off to college. Special for us, but most of you have those things happening as well. If not that summer, then another. Those of you that know me are aware that summer was amazing for me in particular for one other reason: The Chicago Cubs.

My Red Sox fan friends chortled “Now that we’ve had a few World Series, it might as well be your turn.” And I remind them that Red Sox have NEVER been the longest suffering team in baseball. They missed that honor by ten years. And in 1918, they beat…the Cubs. But I digress.

My beloved team was in first place the entire season. They last did that in 1969, and Mets fans know how that turned out. I digress again. I mention this here because I need to explain the baseball bat I have hung in my office. It is a metaphor for Jewish learning.

The bat is signed by Mr. Cub, Ernie Banks, one of the heroes of my childhood and was a gift to me from my previous congregation on the occasion of my 10th anniversary as educator. Whenever someone said “Hey Ernie! It’s a beautiful day for a ball game!” he would respond: “Let’s play two!”

I would tell this story whenever teaching about the Yotzer or Ma'ariv prayers. These are prayers we say as part of our regular worship service, praising God for creating the world in which we live. (We say Yotzer in the morning and Ma'ariv at night.) I would explain that Ernie believed that when it is a beautiful day, we need to show God our appreciation by doing the things we love best and by sharing it with others we love. For Ernie it was playing baseball and sharing it with all of Chicago. I was fortunate enough to meet him in the 80’s and confirm that is what he meant.

So what does the bat have to do with Jewish learning? Jewish learning – doing it myself or facilitating it for others – is the thing I love doing best. Ernie’s bat reminds me that no matter the weather outside, it is ALWAYS a beautiful day for Jewish learning.

Whatever your age it is a beautiful day for Jewish learning.

Our Preschool gets fully underway on September 3rd.

Religious School begins on Sunday the 8th.

The Curriculum Working Group and the Education Committee have been working through the summer to imagine what that will look and feel like.

Torah Study has been continuous, and the Program Committee just arranged for our wonderful Scholar-in Residence who will be coming the first weekend of December.

When it comes to Jewish learning, let’s play two!

L’shalom!
Ira Wise