Rabbi's Column - Summer 2024

Dear Friends,

In these days of division and strife, I’d like to share with you something that gives me tremendous hope: our young people.

Many of you joined us recently for a conversation with Yale Hillel’s executive director Uri Cohen. Uri is professional, insightful, and strategic. He reflected on this spring’s tumult on college campuses, explaining his journey to being a trusted partner and voice for Yale’s Jewish students in the highest levels of the university’s administration.

But most impressive of all were our college students (who attend schools around the country). They spoke with honesty and passion about experiencing a challenging year on campus. Each of these six young people eloquently conveyed their Jewish pride and their standing up to antisemitism. Like many Jews in their generational cohort, they do not believe that they have to choose between safety for Israelis and justice for Palestinians. This is all the more impressive given that campus culture so often screams the opposite message in their faces. Their ability to hold many difficult emotions and truths while still being confident in who they are is a total inspiration. Kol HaKavod — well done. Thank you to Kulanu for organizing this deeply meaningful evening.

Just a few days later came Shavuot, and we celebrated the confirmation of three special 10th-graders. They were called to the Torah to read the ten commandments, and each of them shared reflections on the year of learning. Unsurprisingly, they all spoke about the Israel-Hamas war, since Israel’s history has been the main focus of our year of study. They, too, conveyed their Jewish pride and their commitment to proceed into the next chapter of their lives with critical thought, conscience, and confidence and who they are. They spoke about BBYO, the international youth movement of which SALTY is part. They spoke about their special experience in our religious school. They are positioned to be leaders and builders of the Jewish future. As a rabbi, there’s nothing that makes me prouder.

By now it should be abundantly clear that we have some special young people here at TBT, and of course that is because we have special families. Families who choose to opt-in to Judaism in spite of the societal forces that challenge that decision. Families who choose learning and dialogue over the need to ‘be right.’ I love about our congregation that we can listen to one another and engage in difficult decisions with civility and curiosity. Throughout the last several years of my serving TBT, I have seen our teens model this time and time again.

My year serving as teacher to our teens is also a reminder that what’s going on in the news is not necessarily all that’s going on in the world. Headlines, whether about events in the middle east or on domestic college campuses, tend to be driven by all that is ugly. This is the most basic way that bias can creep into news coverage. But behind the headlines, there is a lot of unreported goodness and basic decency. There are the actions of rodfei shalom (Psalms 43.15) — pursuers of peace. Our young people are pursuers of peace. We should listen to them. They are leading us.

Shalom,
Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - June 2024

Dear Friends,

I invite all my B'nai Mitzvah students to ask me a "big question" that would be hard for ChatGPT to answer. Recently, Levi A. asked, "What do you think would happen if the Jews were to lose Israel?" This is a sad, difficult, and very important question. I told Levi as much, and so I'm sharing a few reflections here, too.

Over its 76-year history, Israel has faced numerous threats. Every war triggers existential fears. Israel's existence has never been assured, which is why it has built one of the strongest armies in the world.

Israel is still a young country. If we look back 3000 years to King Solomon and the first Temple in Jerusalem, 1948 to 2024 constitutes only about 2% of Jewish history. We lost control of Israel when the Romans destroyed the Temple 2000 years ago, leading to centuries of exile.

Exile wasn't just a geographical reality; it was a profound sorrow we carried for centuries. The book of Psalms reflects this in a poem from the first exile to Babylonia: "By the Waters of Babylon/There we sat down/And we wept/As we remembered Zion….If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my hand wither…” (Psalms 137).

Later Jewish texts also reflect this yearning. One Midrash explains that when the Temple was destroyed, God went into exile too, departing Jerusalem and the presence of our people.

For almost 2000 years, Jews dreamed of returning to our homeland. This longing was embedded in daily life: in prayers for the rebuilding of Jerusalem, in facing East during prayer, in breaking a glass at weddings to recall the Temple's destruction. The land of Israel is central to Jewish history and identity.

Can you imagine if your home, livelihood, and every routine disappeared in an instant? It's hard to relate to this feeling today, which is a good thing: it shows how comfortable we have been in the United States.

At my summer camp, we had an activity on Tisha Ba’av, the saddest Jewish holiday when we mourn the destruction of the Temples and other catastrophes. Campers spent an hour building intricate gingerbread houses, which the counselor suddenly trampled to the ground. It was an attempt to invite us to consider the feelings that accompany the loss of home, identity, and way of life. (However misguided from a 2024 perspective…)

In exile, Jews lived at the whim of mercurial leaders. The Purim story dramatizes this: an evil minister plots to destroy the Jews by manipulating the king. While likely a work of fiction, the story reflects the reality of how quickly fortunes could change for Jews.

Our  ancestors  were  exiled  from  many  lands:  Italy,  Egypt,  Spain,  Portugal,  England,  Russia, Switzerland, North Africa...the list goes on and on.  By the 1800s, Jews became citizens of modern nation-states like France and Germany, finally gaining equal rights. Many believed our tragic history was over.

Then came Hitler. Germany, the paradigm of a modern, civilized society, proved that modernity did not guarantee safety. To the contrary: it guaranteed that the dangers we faced were greater than ever before.

This context is the backdrop of Levi's question. Throughout history, Jews have faced discrimination, draconian restrictions, expulsions, forced conversions, and murder. Facing blood libels, pogroms, and unending antisemitic conspiracies, Jewish dreamers across Europe came to believe that returning to our homeland was the only solution. The State of Israel was conceived as a safe haven for Jews worldwide, a modern political solution to an ancient problem. That, simply stated, is Zionism. Israel has done remarkable things to follow through on this promise, including daring rescues in Entebbe, Uganda, and absorbing Jews from Ethiopia and the Former Soviet Union.

So, what if Israel ceased to exist? With nine million people living there, where would they go? Some propose a multinational state for Jews and Arabs, but it’s unclear how Jews would fare absent the ability to protect themselves. (On the other hand, life for Palestinian Arabs in Israel is complex, but generally safe and even prosperous). It seems naive in the extreme to imagine that such a state is a pragmatic possibility.

The other option is that seven million or so Jews would have to leave. Where would they go? Here? Canada? Argentina? Either outcome would involve terrible violence to Jewish safety and identity. The elimination of the Jewish state would be a catastrophe akin to the destruction of the ancient Temples or the Holocaust. We would eventually survive and adapt, as we always have, but our people would never be the same. Over the last 2000 years, we accepted exile temporarily, thrived and persevered, but never gave up the dream of return. So, we would go back to dreaming.

Israel's national anthem expresses the longing for our homeland with the phrase - nefesh Yehudi Homiyah - the Jewish soul murmurs a yearning… In the scenario Levi asks about, we would resume hoping and praying, as our ancestors did, to once again realize our dream of self-determination - l’hiot am chofshi b’artzeinu - to be a free people in our homeland. As students of history, we know that this is required to bring true safety to Jews everywhere. Israel has already fulfilled this dream in so many respects. The next step is to fulfill our people's mandate as makers of peace. (The recent Abraham Accords indicate that progress is always possible, distant though it may feel.)

Every conflict is only a conflict until it isn’t.

Please God, let us build a world where Israel is secure and at peace with its neighbors.

I appreciate Levi’s question, and hope ardently that one day, no student will ever feel the need to ask it again.

Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - May 2024

Dear Friends,

During my college days, there was a slogan all over campus: “think one person can change the world? We do.” I loved these words because they reflected my institution’s history at the forefront of social change. In fact, college students have always made headlines for protests, marches, and civil disobedience. This

is how it should be. They are exploring their sense of right and wrong. They are expressing their voices as change agents.

Undoubtedly, there are many compassionate young people protesting in the tent encampments that have sprung up at universities throughout the United States. They are demonstrating for an end to the war in Gaza and for justice for Palestinians. And what decent person doesn’t want both of those things? They have seen the terrible images and grim statistics that we have all seen. We all want an

end to the suffering.

Unfortunately, these rallies are not always benign. My colleague Rabbi Ari Hart recently took a walk through the encampment at Northwestern University. Some of the signs and chants he encountered called for peace and an end to the fighting. Others were downright chilling: “Long live the Intifada!” “Hey hey, ho ho - Zionists have got to go.” And then there’s the ubiquitous slogan heard around the world, “from the river to the sea Palestine will be free.”

I wonder how many of these students know what river and what sea they are chanting about? If they do, do they think that the seven million Jews living there will simply pack up and leave? And what about the word ‘intifada’ — which means ‘shaking off ’ or ‘uprising’ — do they know that the second intifada consisted of hundreds of suicide bombings, sowing terror throughout Israel’s civilian centers? Do they know that that uprising began after Palestinian leadership rejected a two state peace deal that Israel agreed to?

Perhaps the most disturbing recent statement came from Khymani James, the organizer of the Columbia encampment, who said that “Zionists don’t have a right to live.”

Just let that sink in.

Zionism is simply the political movement for the freedom of the Jewish people. To reject that movement is to deny the Jewish right to safety and self-determination. It is a form of hatred. I wish I could comfortably advise our young people to speak up for the safety and self-determination of both Palestinians and Israelis in these protest spaces. But I do not know of any protest where such nuance would be accepted. Tragically, the protests have been poisoned by forces that would not end the war, but rather declare it anew— on the entire Jewish people. (“Globalize the Intifada?” The nefarious intent is hiding in plain sight.)

This messy morass reveals a failure of the American left. Intersectional justice work dictates that none can be free unless all are free. In too many of these protest spaces, that applies to everyone except for Jews.

(And by the way, how many of these students showed up to protest the brutality of the Rohingya Genocide or Syrian strongman Assad’s murder of thousands of Palestinians in his civil war? We could name dozens of other geopolitical conflicts that haven’t risen to encampment-protest-worthiness. That alone is reason for deep reflection.)

Many well-meaning young people attend these events because of the images in the news or an invitation from a friend. Many have absolutely no knowledge of this conflict or its history. Most are well-meaning.

Undoubtedly, some of these protesters are Jewish. I suspect that some of our own college students from TBT may be involved. We should listen to them. Many of them are driven by conscience. We should respect their right to free expression. But mass protests devoid of critical thinking are morally bankrupt and potentially very dangerous. The movement we are seeing today is not about peace. It is tainted by a zero-sum worldview that requires Palestinian liberation at the expense of Jewish safety. That is a false choice and one that makes Jews around the world less safe.

Oseh Shalom bimromav, hu ya’eseh shalom aleinu - v’al kol yoshvei teivel.

May peace yet prevail in our world.

Shalom,

Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - April 2024

Dear Friends,

Do you know where the largest Pesach seder in the world takes place? I’ll give you a minute to guess for yourself — the answer will surprise you!

Pesach (Passover) ranks as one of the most widely observed Jewish Holidays. Even those who do not attend synagogue or otherwise practice Judaism often find themselves around the seder table, asking the four questions and speaking of our ancestors’ journey to redemption.

The story of the Exodus is so compelling because it touches on universal human themes: the triumph of good over evil, and the quest for freedom. For that reason, the Jewish freedom story has inspired freedom-seekers throughout history, including the 17th-century Pilgrims and enslaved Africans. When my grandfather was alive, he would love to hear Al Jolson sing Go Down Moses — an abolitionist protest song influenced by the plight of the Biblical Israelites. This year, many Jews will place an olive on their seder plates as an aspiration for the liberation of both Israelis and Palestinians.

In short, Pesach’s universal themes bring an ancient story to contemporary relevance, every year. Perhaps that is why it is so widely celebrated. And I am so glad that this year, TBT will be holding our community Seder for the first time since 2019! Because many folks travel or spend the first two nights with family, our seder will take place on the fifth night of Pesach: Friday, April 26th. Our Seder will be joyous, uplifting and fun for TBT folks from ages 0-120. I hope to see you and your family there. Because our wonderful planning committee needs to order the right amount of food and set up our space properly, we ask for all RSVPs no later than April 11th. (RSVP here) Further information about the seder can be found later in the Shofar.

It is so important for us to be together to share these stories, especially in a year like this. If you are in town for that Friday night, please join us. You will be glad you did.

Oh, and in case you still wanted to know: the largest Passover seder in the world takes place in Kathmandu, Nepal.

I wish you and your family a Chag Kasher V’Sameach (a happy Matzah-filled holiday),
Rabbi Danny Moss

Rabbi's Column - February 2024

Dear Friends,

Last month in this column I introduced two vital Jewish values to help us as we confront this terrible war: Tzelem Elohim (human dignity) and Yetziat Mitzrayim (compassion for those under duress). This month, I’d like to tell you about Hillel and Shammai. They were ancient study partners who sparred about nearly every area of Jewish law. Even though both sides presented cogent arguments, Hillel almost always won. Why? According to the Talmud (Eruvin 13b) it was because Hillel would teach the opposing side’s argument first. He would invite the Shammai family to dine in his home even though they disagreed about kashrut. In short, he was a mensch, and that mattered most of all.

Further, the Mishnah (Avot 5.16) relates that there are two types of disagreements: those for heaven’s sake (l’shem shamayim) and those not for heaven’s sake. According to the text, Hillel and Shammai exemplify what it means to disagree for heaven’s sake.

As we all continue to pray for peace and the hostages’ safe return, I’d like to share some further learning resources with you in the spirit of Hillel and Shammai. In addition to our TBT programs, these can help us better understand the events in Israel and Gaza. If you’re a podcast listener, I recommend the Ezra Klein Show and the Hartman Institute’s “For Heaven’s Sake” Podcast. For high-level geopolitical analysis, check out the BICOM Podcast. (BICOM has also has an excellent primer on the conflict.) In particular, I recommend the following episodes from Ezra Klein’s Show:

● Rabbi Sharon Brous (Senior Rabbi of IKAR LA)

● Aaron David Miller (Veteran US Peace Negotiator who played a key role in Oslo)

● Yossi Klein HaLevi (Senior Scholar of the Hartman Institute) and Amjad Iraqi (Palestinian-Israeli Journalist) — I recommend listening to these two back-to-back.

The ability to hold cognitive dissonance is a Jewish aspiration, reflected in much of the Talmud’s discourse. (And, not to mention, Tevye). When you listen to these podcasts, you will almost certainly hear ideas that both affirm and challenge your beliefs. You may start crying or feel very angry. I did both of these things.

I believe that as Reform Jews, we are called upon to grasp the fullness of this conflict, including things that make us uncomfortable. When we pay close attention to the lived experiences of people on all sides of this conflict, can we develop our own positions, grounded in moral integrity, an honest understanding of history, and the wisdom of our tradition. We can feel more confident in our commitment to Israel, knowing that we are not afraid to confront the pain of past and present.

L’Shalom — with every fervent prayer for peace,

Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - January 2024

Dear Friends,

A richly developed ethical system is one of Judaism’s gifts to the world. If you understand just two concepts, you will begin to see why.

The first concept is from the very beginning of the Torah. After creating a world full of substance and life deemed tov (deeply good, harmonious), God created human beings. But unlike every other creature, the Torah (Gen. 1.26) describes human creation with the phrase (b’tzelem Elohim) — in the image of God. This means that, among other things, all human beings are equally deserving of dignity, safety, and love. No exceptions.

The second concept comes from the Exodus story. Just a few chapters after escaping Egypt, The Israelites are already told, “You shall not wrong or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Ex. 22.20). This statement and others like it appear dozens of times throughout the Torah — The Talmud counts 36 of them — more than any other ethical requirement. Therefore, we must remember the suffering of our past, Torah commands. But if our suffering is only about us, we have missed the point. Our history of homelessness implies a special responsibility toward others in their homelessness.

Tzelem Elohim — uncompromising dignity.
Yetziat Mitzraim — uncompromising empathy.

These ideas are simple enough to understand, but difficult to apply. And that is because moral decision-making seldom demands a clear choice between right and wrong. More commonly, we must choose between right and right; or wrong and wrong.

Such is the case in this terrible ongoing war between Israel and Hamas. We all want the fighting to be over, but what of the hostages? What of Hamas’ unambiguous promise to massacre Jews again and again? On the other hand, what does it mean for Hamas to be eradicated altogether? Is that even possible? And if so, what will rise in its place? Who will lead the Palestinians out of their suffering? One can kill people, after all but not ideas. And in the wake of the untold devastation, the radicalization of another generation begins and the cycle of conflict continues. This is, after all, just what Hamas hoped would come to pass.

As I said, the choices here are between right and right; between wrong and wrong.

As students of history, and as moral agents with a stake in this conflict, it is incumbent on us to consider our responsibility. The conflict between Israel and the Palestinians has everything to do with dignity and empathy — two of our most deeply held values.

I find it excruciating to hold the full moral weight of this conflict, when our people are still held as hostages, our soldiers are dying, and the hatred toward Jews around the world skyrockets. Israel has worked in good faith for peace with the Palestinians over decades, without success. (I highly, highly encourage you to listen to Ezra Klein’s excellent recent interview with veteran US Peace Negotiator Aaron David Miller to learn more about this.)

And yet…
And yet.

There are other truths that we must acknowledge:
● An extremist, nativist Israeli government has brought Israel to this moment through its expansion of settlements, dismantling of its democratic institutions, and dehumanization of its perceived adversaries;
● Gaza is little more than an open-air prison. But even before the war, life for Palestinians was often unbearable. In the West Bank, civilians are constantly subject to checkpoints, arbitrary detentions without due process of law, violence from Jewish settlers, home demolitions, and all manner of indignities that accompany military occupation. On the Israeli side, there’s the psychological toll that such occupation takes on the (mostly 18-20-year-old) soldiers who enforce it.
● Palestinian refugees, numbering now in the millions, continue to live in camps throughout the middle east, largely abandoned by their host countries. (Except for times such as this, when international media attention makes their suffering politically exigent.)

The moral responsibility for the plight of the Palestinians is blindingly complex. But we don’t have to unravel all of that to know that, as an occupying power, Israel bears a tremendous moral responsibility. This seems unfair given the asymmetry of this conflict — one tiny Jewish state in a sea of Arab hostility — and given our history of persecution. Yet, today, the onus is on Israel to be the most ethical, the most responsible; the most sensitive of the values of Tzelem Elohim and Yetziat Mitzraim.

Anyone who thinks this conflict is one-sided is living in an alternate reality. Still, even knowing that there is pain and blame to share, I will not make excuses for supporting my people. I will fight with all of my soul for my people. That is an important part of justice in this conflict.

In Letters to My Palestinian Neighbor, Yossi Klein HaLevi writes that “a terrifying conditionality haunts our return [to Israel].” I think one of the things he means by this is that Israel’s miraculous existence demands a new responsibility on the world stage to global Jewry. And we have the reciprocal obligation.

With fervent prayers for Shalom,
Rabbi Moss

Guest Column with Ira Wise - December 2023

Happy Chanukah!

The library at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York has some amazing books and artifacts. On a visit with a group of educators many years ago, librarian David Kraemer passed around a brick of lucite. Inside was a very old document. It was one of several dozen handwritten copies of a letter from, and signed by, Rambam (also known as Maimonides), arguably the greatest authority on Jewish law in history. The letters were sent to Jewish communities throughout the 12th century Western world, asking Jews to send money which would be used to ransom the Jewish community of Jerusalem. They were being held captive by either the Crusaders or the Saracens – I cannot remember.

Pidyon Sh’vuyim – Redeeming Captives – is, according to the rabbis of the Talmud as well as Rambam, the greatest of mitzvot (commandments). It is even more important than clothing and feeding the poor. It is outrageous that in our celebrated modernity, redeeming captives is still something that is needed anywhere.

We are a week away from the beginning of Chanukah. It should be a time of celebration, lighting candles, spinning dreidels, and overeating things fried in oil like latkes and sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts).

And we will. It may feel strange to you, as it does to me, to plan a celebration while watching the news feed each day waiting for the next ten hostages to be released. I hope that by the time you read this, those releases are still happening.

The Jewish year continues to happen, no matter what else is going on in the world. Chanukah will begin on the 25th day of the month Kislev (the evening of December 7), like it does every year. Even in the darkest times of Roman persecution, the Inquisition, and even the Holocaust, our ancestors often found ways to mark the festivals and holy days. And many Israelis are making sure to celebrate important lifecycle moments, if they are able – even with the war going on.

So, I urge you to celebrate Chanukah. Keep the captives and the civilians in your hearts and minds. Even talk about them as you spin the dreidel, or after you sing Ma’oz Tzur, if that works in your home. There are resources for talking about the situation with children here. Remember that one of the things we celebrate at Chanukah is Jewish autonomy and freedom. Let’s celebrate on behalf of those who cannot. Let’s gather in prayer and a festive meal on December 8 for Shabbat Chanukah. Make donations to Magen David Adom or through the Jewish Federation.

Our joy may be diminished, but Chanukah teaches that we must bring light into times and places that are dark. I hope to see you over the holiday!

L’shalom,
Ira Wise Interim Director of Education

Rabbi's Column - November 2023

Dear Friends,

I was on the Guilford Green yesterday evening when I heard a man speaking English in what sounded to me like an Israeli accent. I approached his bench, and said s’licha (‘excuse me’ — this excessively polite gesture instantly outed me as an American). We began to converse.

Ech atah mistader, I asked — how are you holding up?
Ko’ev, ha lev koev, he replied — hurting. My heart hurts. Machzik ma’amad — But I’m holding on.

I nodded. I put a hand on his shoulder. As I looked at his face I noticed a cap was obscuring his kippah Hashem Itanu, he said. God is with us.
God is with us.

The response was classic Israeli. We’ve been through tough times. We’ll make it through this, too. I didn’t have to ask this man whether he had lost anyone to the violence; whether he had any family members or friends serving in the IDF, facing imminent danger. I didn’t have to ask.

As Israel fights for its very right to exist (what other country has to do this?) battles are being waged both in Israel and abroad. Here in the USA, we’re seeing the rise of hateful protests and violent antisemitism on college campuses. A recent Harvard poll found that 51% of 18-24-year-olds found Hamas’s terrorist carnage “justifiable” given the Palestinians’ grievances. A Cornell professor called Hamas’ brutality “exhilarating.” Angry protests at the Universities of Michigan and Wisconsin targeted Jews with hateful rhetoric. Neo-Nazis joined in the fray. At Cooper Union, Jewish Students were locked in to the library to protect themselves from protestors banging on the doors, screaming, “Long Live the Intifada.” There are too many others to mention here.

It used to be that college was where our young people learned to think broadly, critically. Now our elite institutions are harboring one-sided, hate-fuelled propaganda. One thing we can do is reach out to all of the college students in our lives, and see how they are doing. This week, I hosted an open Zoom space to process, grieve, and respond. I’ll schedule further sessions as is helpful.

As I write this, we are reading parashat lech lecha, the Torah Portion when Abraham and Sarah leave their home in search of our promised land. God tells them along the way, “I shall make your name great. And you shall be a blessing.” (Gen 12.2) My childhood rabbi, Rabbi Mark Shapiro z”l, loved to point out that this phrase is grammatically imperative. “Be a blessing,” says God. There’s no other option.

A Midrash on this portion has Abraham questioning God:
“Master of the Universe, You made a covenant with Noah that you would never destroy his children. Then I came along and pleased you better, so my relationship with You overrode his. Perhaps someone else will come along and please you better than me, so that his relationship with you overrides mine? God replied, “Among Noah’s children there are no righteous people who intercede for others, but among yours there will be.”

We Jews are a nation of helpers— a people who hate the suffering of all innocents, regardless of borders or life circumstances. You’re continuing to ask how to intercede, how to help. Here are three additional worthy causes you may wish to support:
• Assuta, a hospital in Israel near the Gaza border
• Educare IL, a non-profit organization founded in order to promote resilience and prevent violence in Israeli society, through the research and implementation of empirically-based training programs for therapists, educators and parents
• New Israel Fund Emergency Safety Net Fund is working in several key areas: 1. Basic care for vulnerable groups; 2. Combating violent speech and incitement online; 3. Preventing inter-communal violence in mixed Arab and Jewish cities; and 4. Mental health and trauma counseling.

I thank you to everyone who has reached out to help, pray, and care for our siblings in Israel and here at home. Together, we will make it through this. We will be a blessing.

Shalom, Shalom, fervently and soon,
Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - October 2023

Dear Friends,

At Sukkot we consider: What makes a house a home?

We are taught to treat the spartan Sukkah as our permanent home during this period, humbling us to remember the vulnerability of displacement.

Many of you have been a part of the TBT Family since before the renovation. You patiently awaited returning to our own space while meeting just about everywhere else on the Shoreline. You came with your children — everyone with smiles and a can-do attitude— to our gravel parking lot for our weekly Religious School T’filah! You put up with zoom and in-person; and came masked and then unmasked and back again — over several years. And to those who are new to TBT, welcome! We know how much you love our new space, as well! We won’t subject you to Torah-in-the-trunk anytime soon.

Finally, we are home. We have a gorgeous, comfortable, accessible building and a beautifully landscaped campus. What can we say other than Modim Anachnu (we are so grateful!). The wait was well worth it. I’d like to thank you all for your patience and resilience in the last few years. I’d like to offer a heartfelt todah rabbah (thank you very much) to all who helped with the renovation and contributed to our Capital Campaign to build our TBT home.

The truth is that this work is not yet done. In order to complete the project and plant the seeds for TBT’s flourishing financial future, we need your help. Please consider a gift to our Capital Campaign so that we can cover the full cost of the most ambitious, critical project in TBT’s modern history. If you haven’t yet given, this is the time when we need you. If you’ve already given, thank you for considering another gift. Since announcing our matching gift challenge (through October 8), we have already raised $275,000 in new donations and pledges! Won’t you add your support? Please contact Karen Goldberg, Suzy Frisch, or Kim Romine for more information. And again, Todah Rabbah!

I hope you will join us as we say “thank you” to everyone who brought this project to fruition. Our weekend of gratitude (November 3-4) will include a special Shabbat evening service in appreciation of leaders and volunteers at TBT and throughout the broader community. The following night is our gala — bring your dancing shoes! Stay tuned for signup information coming soon.

Every minute in the Sukkah reminds us of the gifts of safety, security, family, and future. In a word, TBT. I feel so blessed to share this Sukkat Shalom (peaceful home) with all of you.

Bivracha (Blessings),

Rabbi Moss

Rabbi's Column - September 2023

Dear Friends,

In Judaism, community matters. The ideal way to enjoy a meal is with at least three people. We need ten adults to form a minyan. It’s certainly permissible to study alone, but learning with a chevruta (‘study partner’ — from the same Hebrew root as ‘friend’) is among one of the most fulfilling paths in the spiritual life of a Jew.

To be Jewish is to share meaningful Jewish experiences with others. That’s why I’m thrilled to introduce a new initiative called Kesher - רשק, which means ‘connection’ in Hebrew. Kesher offers a way to connect with fellow TBT folks in small affinity groups. Each group will meet at least once each month throughout the year, and will be facilitated by a member of TBT! Some groups will form around general interests; and others are Judaically focused. You can learn to cook delicious modern Israeli recipes, hit the slopes in a Jewish ski group, find support and guidance if you are caring for a loved one, sing new and classic Jewish music, and much more!

Why are we doing this? Well, you may have participated in one of our small-group parlor conversations last year. A common theme emerged: people who described their involvement at TBT as particularly rewarding often felt connected first through a small circle of friends. Often, these friendships blossomed while their kids were little or growing up through Bar/Bat Mitzvah. Some of these groups continue to meet after many years! Kesher is our effort to create fun, relational opportunities more proactively, across age and stage. And it just starts with having fun getting to know other TBT folks, once a month. Won’t you join one of our pilot groups? More information can be found here: http://www.tbtshoreline.org/kesher-groups.

Hineh mah tov u’mah naim
Shevet achim v’achayot gam yachad

How pleasant, how perfect, when friends gather together as one (Psalms 133)

Bivracha (Blessings),
Rabbi Moss