From the Bima Blog

Rosh Hashanah Morning 5784 - September 16, 2023

Watch Rabbi Abrasley's RH Sermon

I used to love spending time with my friend Audrey Cooper. She and her sister Eleanor and their families were among our founding members back in the 1950s. What I loved most about Audrey was her perspective on life. She’d say to me: “Rabbi, I love what you ladies (yes, Audrey was allowed to call me and Rabbi Berry “ladies”) are doing for Temple Shalom. I don’t recognize anything or anyone. How wonderful!”

How wonderful, indeed! 

I first joined Temple Shalom in the summer of 2015. There have been many changes in this special community since then. New leadership, new worship spaces, new colleagues, new programs. For Audrey, it was heaven. A sign of progress and continuity. For me, too. 

I might be a rare bird, but I consider most change good, even if human nature tends to dislike and occasionally reject change. We humans do enjoy our comfort, predictability, and security. 

But it turns out we humans are also remarkably adaptable. Especially we Jews.  

For example, in ancient times, Jewish leadership saw the writing on Jerusalem’s city walls and moved worship of God from the sacrifice of goats to communal prayer in buildings. That was a good change!

Fast forward to the era of enlightenment and modernity. A remarkable change was enacted by a group of so-called radicals. These Jewish thinkers established the beginning of the Reform movement. Another good change.

And in the early 70s, brave leaders at a seminary in Cincinnati called Hebrew Union College fought for women to be ordained in the rabbinate. Now that was a pretty awesome change. Personally, it’s one of my favorites.

I believe that Judaism’s staying power lies in our ability to change. This value has served the Jewish community well. Our flexibility and intentional re-imagination is a Jewish operating principle. 

But there is one thing I’m unwilling to change. One idea that I believe is core to our mission: community is central to Judaism and that must never change. Judaism is a belief system built upon the bedrock value of community. 

Two famous teachings Rabbi Hillel shares in Pirkei Avot, a rabbinic compilation of ethical teachings, illustrate this value.

אַל תִּפְרֹשׁ מִן הַצִּבּוּר – Al tifrosh min ha tzibur – Do not separate yourself from the community.[i]

אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי – Im ain ani li, mi li? – If I am not for me, who will be for me?

וּכְשֶׁאֲנִי לְעַצְמִי, מָה אֲנִיי – Uk’she’ani l’atzmi, mah ani?  – And when I am for myself alone, what am I?

וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי – V’im lo achshav, ay’matai? – And if not now, then when?[ii]

Community, teaches Hillel, has guided, sustained, and enriched all of us since our very beginnings. I suspect building strong Jewish communities is our secret weapon when it comes to survival over the centuries. When the going gets tough, we pull together in miraculous ways to reinvent and reimagine our connections and purpose. 

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, expresses this power of community in his book Celebrating Life, which leans into finding happiness in unexpected ways. He writes, “Community is the human expression of Divine love. It is where I am valued simply for who I am, how I live and what I give to others. It is the place where they know my name.”[iii] 

Rabbi Sacks’ teaching influences my own high ideal of what a place like Temple Shalom should strive towards: I believe that Temple Shalom exists to foster real, deep and enduring connections, between its congregants, and within the communities it serves.[iv]

As we gather today on Rosh Hashanah, to collectively reflect on the year gone by and celebrate the joy of being together we also need to take stock. How is our community fairing right now? After years of COVID, increased acts of antisemitism in our country and around the world, the threats to democracy that just seem to keep piling up, how are we doing?

The truth? Something has dramatically shifted. We’re disengaged. Disappointed. Distraught about the lack of community and connection. And yet we’re not really coming back to synagogue. Why? What happened? Are the days of organized religion really over in America? And is it too late to turn back the tide?

If you ask scholars of American religion, we’re already gone. The prevailing research suggests religious communities are on the decline. In the past 25 years, about 40 million Americans have stopped going to church and synagogue. And the reasons are startling.

A forthcoming book by two political scientists who analyzed over 7000 surveys suggests this:

“Contemporary America simply isn’t set up to promote mutuality, care, or common life. Rather, it is designed to maximize individual accomplishment as defined by professional and financial success. Such a system leaves precious little time or energy for forms of community …”[v]

 According to the experts, the system is broken. 

 Well, I disagree. Actually, I strongly disagree. And not just because I’m a rabbi or naïve or deeply concerned for my day job. Times might be challenging but I’m not ready to call it quits. It’s time for new solutions, new approaches, to problems we’ve ignored for years, maybe decades. 

Now is not the time to toss community and religion aside because contemporary American life dictates otherwise. Especially as we rise out of a pandemic that shook us to our very essence. That forced us home. That changed our relationships. That stole our communities, our connections. Rather, now is the time to come back. Now is the time to double down. Now is the time to give, to engage, to participate more.  Not less. 

This opportunity for change, to reimagine our Jewish community for the 21st century, is one of the many reasons Rabbi Berry and I encouraged Temple Shalom to engage in strategic planning. We knew it was time to chart a new way forward. 

Temple Shalom’s committed leadership took a courageous step forward in the fall of 2022 and formed a Strategic Planning Committee. This diverse, fabulously opinionated team of members has been hard at work ever since. Alongside our thoughtful consultant, they have gathered valuable, real-life data from all of you, reached out to our Jewish neighbors for best practices, debated about the financial realities that define synagogues today, and wondered together about how to chart a powerful, positive way forward.

While this project is not yet concluded, the findings about where to start seem clear. Overwhelmingly, you indicated that you highly value relationships and pathways to connect. And that while the programs that fill our calendar are good, we need to do better when it comes to providing opportunities for people to create real relationships with one another and the Temple Shalom community. 

In other words, put people first, not programs. 

This is not a new idea. This trope is, in fact, ancient, woven in and out of our Jewish foundation. The image of relationships begins with the creation of the human. God creates a pair of humans, not one but two –

 לֹא־ט֛וֹב הֱי֥וֹת הָֽאָדָ֖ם לְבַדּ֑וֹ אֶֽעֱשֶׂהּ־לּ֥וֹ עֵ֖זֶר כְּנֶגְדּֽוֹ – lo tov he’yot ha’adam l’vado, eh’eh’she lo ezer k’negedo – it is not good for the human to be alone, I will make a fitting counterpart for the human[vi]

How about that? God’s design of the original Adam, the original humans, includes relationships as a key detail in our makeup. It is lo tov, not good, for us to be without one another. God created humans with relationships, with friendships, as central to the human condition. 

The importance of friendship can be found widely in Jewish literature. The underlying message teaches that friendship requires a giving and receiving of one’s true self. Maimonides, a 12th century Spanish philosopher, suggests “that a true friend is someone who is involved in every aspect of that friend’s life.”[vii]

Personally, I think the best definition of friendship comes from Avot d’Rabbi Natan in his commentary on Pirkei Avot. Rabbi Natan outlines exactly what friendship is for, at least in Jewish understanding when he comments on the verse:

 עֲשֵׂה לְךָ רַב, וּקְנֵה לְךָ חָבֵר – aseh l’cha rav ukneh l’cha chaver – find yourself a teacher, and get yourself a friend. [viii]

 Rabbi Natan explains the second half: "And get yourself a friend -- In what manner? It teaches that a person will find a friend(s) for one's self to eat with, and to drink with, and to read with, and to study Mishnah with, and to lodge with, and who will reveal all of their secrets -- the secrets of the Torah and the secrets of the way of the land.”[ix]

From Pirkei Avot I went to a contemporary book by Dr. Ron Wolfson, Relational Judaism. Dr. Wolfson, an educator by training, is quite skilled at taking ancient wisdom and fusing it with a modern sensibility. He states that nothing a synagogue does actually matters unless we start with and focus on and build on our relationships with one another. Dr. Wolfson lays his cards on the table in the opening pages: “It’s not about programs. It’s not about marketing. It’s not about branding, labels, logos, clever titles, websites or smartphone apps. It’s not even about institutions. It’s about relationships.”[x]

And friends, your thoughtful reflections collected via the strategic plan tell us that this is what you, members of our community, most desperately want. We want our friendships back. We want to feel connected to one another. To know one another. To feel seen and cared for by each other. For people to know our name, our passions, our worries. Our joys and our challenges. 

We know we want to come together. So, what would happen if we rebuilt from a new beginning. If we dug deep into ourselves and recommitted to one another, and this community. If our gatherings became more about how we connect, how we know one another, in order to strengthen one another.

So, I think it’s time to take a page from Rabbi Taylor Swift and go on an extensive tour. We need to revisit the beginnings so that we get to know each other again. 

I want us to spend 5784 gathering in ways we never have before.  Essentially centering everything around intentional gatherings, each one carefully curated so that people can really meet and connect. 

And let’s get out of the building and go on tour! These gatherings should take place everywhere! Maybe in people’s homes for Shabbat dinners. Or in a Newton backyard for a late fall Havdalah and bonfire with smores. We could organize a mid-week lunch bunch. Or a stroller walk. Or a professional networking night out.   

Some gatherings could include a little Jewish learning, and some should focus exclusively on good conversation and delicious food. Other gatherings might travel to a destination to connect over a shared experience. And some of you might decide to meet a fellow TS member for coffee or ice cream or a walk.

I can hear you thinking. Rabbi, this is a great goal. It’s what I want more than anything. To be noticed, and to be known to people in this community. But it’s impossible. There is no way you can make this work.

And I say, watch this …

Susie, will you wave to the community? And my friend Ian, can you stand up so we can greet you?

Susie, meet Ian! Ian is an aspiring teacher, currently studying early childhood education in Cambridge. You should see him interact with the littles. He’s a natural. 

And Ian, meet Susie! Susie taught preschool for many years. While she is retired today, she is a master teacher in the field. I bet she could be an amazing friend to you as you enter the teaching profession. 

I want you two to swap email addresses after services, OK? Good!

Who else do I see here today…

Friends, this new beginning is not impossible. On the contrary, it opens us up to possibilities we never imagined. 

When I stand upon this bima next Rosh Hashanah, I want our homes and hearts, our services and our sanctuaries to be full of relationships. I want you, each of you, all of us, to be seen and to be known. I want everyone to have participated in this new way forward for our precious community: to meet and discover new people, new ideas, new passions, and new connections. To have a new friend, someone at Temple Shalom, someone you never imagined in your life. 

Rabbi Martin Buber once taught, “In the beginning is the relationship.”[xi]  Here’s to our new beginning. Here’s to our renewed community and connections. I can’t wait for us to meet one another and become friends. Once again!