On August 19, if all goes according to plan, more than 1,000 people will gather for a day-long celebration of Jewish food, live entertainment, and authentic Shomrei Torah hospitality – a thousand people including our membership, virtually all of whom (we hope) will be on hand to host the event.

In addition to the food and beverages available for immediate consumption – everything from corned beef sandwiches to latkes to kugel and egg creams – a variety of baked goods and other foods will be available to take home. Live music, Israeli dancing, the Second Hand Rose Shoppe (selling gently used goods) and a silent auction round out the offering.

What’s remarkable about this event is not just its scale, which is unprecedented for our community. Nor is it the degree of member involvement, which will have to be near total for it to succeed. Rather, this is our first truly public event specifically intended to draw people from outside our Shomrei Torah community.

This is a noteworthy departure for us, a sign that, in many ways, Shomrei Torah is growing up. With three ordained clergy on our staff, a robust offering of religious, educational and cultural programming, and a beautiful hilltop setting, our community has evolved from a small band of families seeking to create a spiritual home into something more akin to an institution, a significant presence on the region’s cultural landscape.

While the Jewish Food Fest is intended as a fundraiser, it’s also much more than that. Among its goals is to further cement Shomrei Torah’s identity as the center for Reform Judaism in Sonoma County. If that helps us attract new members from the vast numbers of unaffiliated Jews in the area, then it will have achieved an important objective of strengthening our synagogue, both financially and by adding energy and vitality to our congregation.

Equally profound is the impact it will have on all of us as we work together toward a common goal. There are so many ways to contribute to this effort, so many tasks for volunteers to perform, that every single member of our congregation has a vitally important role to play. From donating items for the auction, to baking beforehand, to staffing the event, and helping to clean up afterwards, there is a job for every individual, no matter your age or ability. Visit the Jewish Food Fest page on our web site to find out how you can pitch in.

The Jewish Food Fest is a community-building effort in every sense. It will strengthen the bonds we share one to another, and it will build an important bridge to our neighbors beyond the synagogue’s walls. It will celebrate our Jewish culture and heritage, and raise awareness of our congregation and its good works. And to those who work the event as much as those who attend it, it promises to be a roaring good time.

* * *

Thanks, Marcy!

This month marks the end of Marcy Pluznick-Marrin’s tenure as Interim Office Manager of Shomrei Torah. Marcy has energetically served this congregation for many years, most recently as Immediate Past President, and when the Executive Director position became vacant, she agreed to step in and supervise the day-to-day operations of the synagogue. She has done an outstanding job during a busy and challenging time of transition and has earned the sincerest gratitude of the board and the congregation. Please join me in thanking Marcy for her extraordinary effort and talent.

B’Shalom,

Bruce

I’ve been in Israel six days now. I arrived last Tuesday evening, rented a car at the airport and then drove to Kibbutz Harduf where Levi has been living since late December. Driving in Israel can be a harrowing experience in the light of day when you know where you are going. I hadn’t slept in about 24 hours; I did not know the way nor the car very well. My safe arrival is proof that, yesh Elohim, there is a God!
Levi met me at the gate of the kibbutz. I couldn’t help but cry hugging him for the first time in five months.

Harduf is about 35 miles west of Haifa, across the valley and in the hill country there; on clear evenings the lights of Haifa frame the coast and offer a beautiful view from Harduf. Built some 30 years ago, Harduf is modern, clean and in relatively good condition. The white stucco and cement homes ring the hillside. Gardens of all kinds abound and overflow their beds. It seems almost everyone has a view. In addition to a small neighborhood of houses, there is a commercial organic farm and dairy, a pub, a small store, an auditorium, and a large school complex with a number of well-appointed buildings. The school is the heart of Harduf, a Waldorf institution committed to the educational principles of Rudolf Steiner. Levi goes to Maria Carrillo High School in Santa Rosa, so the Waldorf educational approach was new to him. Nevertheless, it’s been a great experience for him in every way – the school, the family he lives with and especially the many friends he has made while there. He sounded good over the phone and looked fine via Skype but it was not until I saw him in person that I knew for certain what a positive and life-changing experience he was having. My heart was full, and months of low-level worry were washed away in a matter of minutes. In spite of the jetlag, I slept like a rock that evening.

Of all my experiences at Harduf, two stand out: The first was a play that some of the kids in the high school happen to be performing while I was there – “Salakh Shabbati!” Some of you may remember that I recently screened the movie of the same name at Shomrei Torah. It is my favorite Israeli movie, set in the years right after 1948 when Israel absorbed hundreds of thousands of new immigrants from the East: Yemen, Morocco, Algiers, Iraq, etc. It was the best and the worst of times for the new state, and the story of “Salakh Shabbati” tracks these events with insight and humor by following one Mizakhi family as they enter the country and try to find their way in this new and foreign land. As it turned out, many of the students in the play were from Mizakhi families, so the story of “Salakh Shabbati” was, in many ways, their story as well. What a treat!

The other experience worth sharing is a trip I took with Levi and three of his friends. We went to a place called Sakhneh, a river/water park near Tiberius. The setting was beautiful, but what really impressed me was the conversation. To be clear, we are talking about four 16-year-old boys, so you wouldn’t expect much intellectual depth. Not these kids. We talked at length about the meaning of freedom, personally and in the context of a community or a society as a whole. We also had a lively debate about democracy, specifically, whether it was possible to have a “Jewish” and “democratic” state. I was blown away! Can you remember the last time you had a serious conversation like that anywhere other than perhaps Shomrei Torah? This cuts right to the marrow of what I love about Israeli society when it is at its best.

I’ve been thinking a lot about why I care so much about Israel. After all, I am not naïve; I know that Israel has more problems per square foot than almost any place in the world and some of those problems affect me directly, like the fact that I cannot really be a rabbi in Israel today and my wife and children are not considered Jewish by the State. So why this deep and overwhelmingly positive connection?

The crux of the matter is centuries of longing, a history of exile, a crazy stubbornness, countless heartfelt prayers, and an ocean of tears. I can’t comprehend how any Jew who knows the story of our people is not on some level awestruck, profoundly touched and grateful for the imperfect and yet miraculous existence of Midinat Yisrael, the State of Israel. The Prophet Isaiah may be troubled, and that is no small thing, but Theodore Herzl would be proud. The truth is somewhere in between, yet at least for me, the miracle stands, shimmering before me in the dark as I type these last words of the evening.

Lilah Tov from Tel Aviv.

RG

It began with the arrival of Rabbi Stephanie Kramer, who wasted no time earning the trust and affection of our entire congregation, and setting a new direction for our religious school, lifelong learning and b’nei mitzvah programs.

Not long after her arrival came news of Leira’s impending departure, and the intensive search for her replacement. We found him in Cantor Stephen Abelson, who officially joins our community in mid July. Those who have met Cantor Stephen are thrilled with all that he brings to Shomrei Torah – not only a majestic voice, but a deep knowledge of the musical liturgy, a robust enthusiasm for his work, and a loving heart brimming with joy and compassion.

More recently, we engaged a new executive director, Mark Gilbert, who returns to his native Sonoma County from New York, where he has been consulting with various Jewish organizations. A seasoned executive with hands-on experience at non-profits like Shomrei Torah, Mark lived in Israel and served in the Israel Defense Forces. He begins his new job on June 1.

It’s worth noting that the impact on our budget of these new hires is minor at best. All three of our new hires replace existing staff members, so there have been no new positions created. By rearranging our budget, we have been able to hold the line on expenses. For example, because Cantor Stephen will assume responsibility for b’nei mitzvah tutoring, we were able to roll the budget for Hebrew tutors into his salary. We sincerely thank our longtime tutors, Ellie Cohen and Margo Miller, for their service to our students.

The fiscal 2012-2013 budget that the board approved last month, and which the membership will ratify on May 20, actually shows a decrease in the projected deficit compared to the current fiscal year.
And while we made terrific progress reducing – maybe even eliminating – the deficit for the current year, it will be a significant challenge for us in the year ahead. That is why we are encouraging everyone to comply with their fair share commitment and pledge 2% of household income to Shomrei Torah when the time comes to renew your membership. If every member household pledged their 2% fair share, deficit would disappear.

With three clergy persons on our staff, a professional executive director in the office, and a beautiful building in which to study, worship and socialize, Shomrei Torah is today poised to grow its membership, expand its programming, and fulfill the vision to be the center for progressive Reform Judaism in Sonoma County.

B’shalom,

Bruce

I spent a week with Laura mostly on the Sonoma Coast, 5 days on a silent retreat at Spirit Rock, a couple days with my father and his wife in Louisville, and now I am in New York City en route to Israel.

One of the gifts of sabbatical is extra reading time. The top of the list for Jewish fiction so far is Nathan Englander’s book of short stories, What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank. The title grabbed me right away. It’s a play on Raymond Carver’s outstanding collection of short stories, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, one of my all-time favorites! I bought the book because of the title, curious to see what Englander does with this prominent Carver reference. I was not disappointed.

Carver’s brilliance was his ability, with the sparsest of prose, to drop you into the emotional climax of a person, a couple, or a family’s life; no varnish or sentimentality, nothing less than the brutal truth. In What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank, Englander manages to do the same thing with a different focus – contemporary Jewish life. Every story, in one way or another, cuts to the quick, laying bare a flash point of Jewish life today; Secularism, Intermarriage, Assimilation, Israel, the Shoah, you name it. Check out these links about the book:
 http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/10/books/what-we-talk-about-when-we-talk-about-anne-frank-stories-by-nathan-englander.html?_r=1  and http://articles.latimes.com/2012/feb/02/entertainment/la-ca-nathan-englander-20120202

It would make a great text for a discussion about Contemporary Jewish Life; y’all interested?

Another gift of Sabbatical is the ability to go to Shabbat Services somewhere else! This past Friday, Laura and I went to the famed Conservative Congregation, B’nai Jeshurun –  - for http://www.bj.org/ Kabbalat Shabbat Services.  Services started at 7PM that evening but we arrived early to beat the crowd; yes, they pack the place every Friday night!  What makes “BJ” so special? For us, it’s the music and the sense of community.  That night they had a small ensemble playing as well as a Cantor and two rabbis, one of which could really sing!  A few days since the celebration of Yom Ha’atzmaut/Israeli Independence Day, services began with Lu Yhi, an Israeli song by Naomi Shemer (She wrote, “Yerushaliyim Shel Zahav/Jerusalem Of Gold”).

Lu Y’hi roughly translates to “May it be”.  It is a song filled with longing for peace; a time when we can just be, our own people, in our own land, celebrating Shabbat; nothing more, nothing less.  Lu Y’hi/May it be… The words washed over Laura and I; we felt deeply at home.  It was as if for a brief moment the universe was speaking for us, as if the “strangers on the bima” were playing our heart’s song:

May it be, may it be – Please – may it be
All that we seek – may it be.

May it be, may it be – Please – may it be
All that we seek – may it be.

http://www.hebrewsongs.com/?songID=176

Naomi Shemer wrote this song about Israel but the words could easily apply to my feelings for Shomrei Torah:

May it be, may it be – Please – may it be
All that we seek – may it be.

We mostly sang through the rest of the service as many of the melodies were familiar and some we use at Shomrei Torah.  I missed y’all, my regular prayer partners, but it was also lovely not to be in charge, and to be held by others for a Shabbat evening…

Thank you Shomrei Torah for the gift of Sabbatical. Next…blog in Jerusalem!

RG

Leira, we have lived a lot of life together, almost all of it in this community. I believe Dianne found you at Simcha Sunday, a few months before I arrived. You were the new Choir Director. And, it was Dianne who also suggested that we might try leading services together.

This may sound natural to those of you who have prayed with Leira these last 16 years, but in fact at first, Leira was quite frightened of the idea; music she knew, but Judaism was rather new, especially the kind of knowing that would enable one to feel comfortable leading, and so it was with fear and trepidation that Leira stepped onto the bima to sing and to pray. Yet, it worked from the very beginning, so much so, that soon after we started to lead Services together, we were planning the music for the Holy Days. I will never forget working over that piano at Christ Church; it took us hours to get through the Services… It was mostly new to you and as the new rabbi of the congregation, I too was struggling to get a handle on things. We both were a little shaky, but together we were strong enough to make it happen, and we did.

A lot has changed; we’ve prayed through 15 additional Holy Days together. Only you and I and others who have journeyed together in similar situations can know what that means. One thing that is evident to everyone however, is your humility.

You know the joke about the cantor, rabbi and the shamas of the Congregation?

It’s erev Yom Kippur. In a moment, the cantor will begin to chant Kol Nidre. Suddenly, he is overcome with fear and trepidation…runs over to the Aron Hakodesh and says in a loud voice, “Adonai, I am not worthy to lead this holy congregation. What am I in your sight but dust and ashes?” The rabbi, not to be outdone by the cantor, bumps the cantor aside and says, “I am nothing in your eyes. What have I ever done that is worthy?” Now the shamas is watching all this and is very moved, so he runs over to the ark and says, “God, I am a man of no value, a miserable sinner, a nothing…”

The rabbi taps the cantor on the shoulder and says, “Now look who’s calling himself a nothing.”

The Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hassidism once taught, “the test of true service to God is that it leaves behind the feeling of humility.”(Studies in Judaism, vol.3, pg. 30) Your service to Shomrei Torah, especially on the bima from the start up until today, has passed the Besht’s test. You have brought us to some amazing heights – we have soared with you – from a place of humility.

In Hassidic thought, there is a concept called Beitul yesh – the nullification of the self. The idea behind this spiritual practice is that we must evict the ego from our hearts in order to let God in. This has been one of your enduring accomplishments – to lead, to be so big and so strong, and yet to leave so much space for all of us. In this way you are and have always been a true servant of the congregation and a personal inspiration.

I would be remiss if I did not also mention the degree to which your family has been involved. Your kids, Lynden, Mathew and Olivia, have all spent a lot of time helping out around here, and then there is Carl, who has been such a gift to the congregation in so many ways. As Ruth already mentioned, Kol Nidre will never sound the same without you Carl. And, more than a few people have wondered out loud how we will keep the building in such good shape without you around. Luckily, we still have your cell phone…You are forbidden from changing it when you move up north!

A story: A student, in the old country was troubled, really troubled for he could not pray. He could say the words, he knew how to daven, but he felt nothing. So, he went to his rebbe for advice…. This was the rebbe’s answer: “See that rock over there…? Take it up to the clock tower in the town square…” “But…it’s too big and heavy…it won’t fit!” The rebbe responded: “Get a hammer and break it up into little pieces and carry them up to the top of the tower, one broken piece at a time.”

Broken, broken open. Thus, our tradition teaches that the only prerequisite for prayer is a broken heart.

Prayer is about vulnerability; not just prayer but life! To live is to feel, and to feel is to be vulnerable.

Leira, your vulnerability, as hard as it can be on you, has been an enormous gift to our community. Emotion, feeling, kavanah, transcends the words, and binds us to each other in a profound way. You gave us permission to feel. You showed us a way to a deeper connection to our faith and our worship; nothing opens the gates of heaven like tears.

There is a Hassidic story I love about a rebbe, his name I don’t remember, but he is a friend of the Kotsker Rebbe and he dies and goes to the Olam Habah. The Kotsker gets worried because he expects to hear from him in a dream; for this rebbe there was not as much distance between worlds. A month goes by and he decides to ascend to heaven himself to see what has become of his friend. So he makes the ascent, and checks all the palaces for his friend… Finally he goes to the Angel Gabriel who tells him how to find his friend: “You must pass through a very dark forest…” So he goes and sees his friend, leaning on a cane, weeping by a vast, dark lake. The Kotsker’s friend recognizes him and says, “Do you know what this lake is? It is the Sea of Israel’s tears. I am not leaving here until God dries up these tears and the lake is no more.”

I know of this lake, this sea of our sorrow. Many of us here do. But some, because of who they are and what they do are more profoundly touched, more deeply moved by these waters of life and death. Leira, you are one of those people.

I remember looking over at you, I think it was Yom HaShoah, but it could have been yiskor, and you had just finished singing El Maleh Rachamim. You were so pale I thought you might fall down. It was then that I realized the price you paid to be present, real, vulnerable, to feel the pain of the Jewish people, to enter into that sea of sorrow, to feel our pain, with us and for us through your voice. It’s no small thing.

Nor is it a small thing to stand with your rabbi over and over again to bury our friends, family, fellow travelers along the way.

“Kol Ha-olam kulo, gesher tzar meod, v’hayfakhed clal. The whole world is a narrow bridge but the essence is not to be afraid.”

You have been a fearless companion as we have walked across that narrow bridge, through the valley of the shadow many times and come out the other side.

And, how could I not mention the 300+ B’nei Mitzvah you have helped shepherd through that perilous rite of passage? (Parents & students rise)

One last story, yet another Hassidic tale, one I have told many times. It is about the Baal Shem Tov and his prayer practice. You remember the story. He prays for hours and his disciples get tired of waiting for him to finish so one day they decide it wouldn’t hurt to slip out and go next door to eat a little herring and drink a little schnapps and then come back. After all, it smells so good, and he won’t even notice… They get up to leave and they hear a horrible scream! It is the Besht. “Rebbe, Rebbe are you alright? What happened?” “When I pray I ascend a ladder into the heavens. Rung, by rung, I work my way up. You, my disciples, are the holders of the ladder. When you left to eat and drink, I fell off the ladder.”

Leira, you have held the ladder in so many ways for so many people over these past 16 years. The hole you leave is enormous; no one person can fill it! There was no task too small and few too large for you to lend a hand. This room is full of people who have benefitted from your support in one form or another over the years.

Anyone who has worked with Leira on an Shomrei Torah project, please rise.

As for me, you held the ladder, sometimes were the ladder. “Leira, I want a band.” “No problem.” “Leira, how about the Sh’ma to Bob Marley’s, “One Love, One Heart?” “No problem.” My wish was your command. Unless you thought I was wrong, or misguided. And there were a number of times over the years when you saved me from myself by suggesting there might be a better way… There were also critical times when I simply don’t think I would have made it without you. Like when I first was diagnosed with a trigeminal neuralgia, was in a lot of pain, and stoned from the medication I was taking. I would lose my place, or forget what I was saying. It was one of the most frightening times of my life and you were there, right by my side to see me through.

In truth, you spoiled me. Our future cantor may curse you, but I will always sing your praise! More than that, I will know what a true, loyal, loving, hard-working, giving colleague and friend you have been to me. I would not be the rabbi I am today if it were not for you…

Thank you, Rabbi, for those beautiful words about our beloved Leira. I think tonight along with our Kiddush wine we’d better pass out some Kleenex. A little word of advice: if you ever have to give a speech, don’t follow Rabbi George.

Before I say a few words about Leira…I’d like to acknowledge someone whose impact on our community has been almost as profound…and that’s Carl McGahan.

Most of you know Carl for his musicianship…his regular appearances in the band on our musical shabbats… but more memorably as the soloist who sings Kol Nidre on Erev Yom Kippur. Who among us hasn’t been moved…often to tears…by his soulful rendition of that sacred prayer. It gives you chills just to think about it.

But what you don’t see quite so publicly is the hundreds of hours per year Carl donates to our synagogue in the form of his skillful craftsmanship. Carl is truly the go-to guy for projects around the building, whether that’s hanging cabinets, patching walls or making repairs that would otherwise have cost us thousands.

As much as we’re here to recognize Leira for the gifts she has given to our community, none stands out more than the gift of her husband. Thanks, Leira, for sharing Carl with us.

On behalf of the Shomrei Torah board, I’d like to present Carl with this gift of appreciation for his generous, tireless service to our community. Carl…

[PAUSE]

And now, Leira. If ever you wondered about the difference you’ve made in the life of Shomrei Torah, just look around this room. But to really know what you mean to this community…look past the beaming faces and the teary eyes…and look into the hearts of those whom you have touched.

With your soaring, soulful voice. Your enveloping hugs. Your compassion and wisdom, you have lifted our hearts and given wings to our prayers.

Thanks in large part to you, our congregation has grown, both in size and reverence. Almost single-handedly you have given us the reputation as the musical shul…and it’s a moniker we wear proudly.

You have given us a choir…and boy, what a choir. That is a legacy that will long outlive your tenure here. You have given us the musical Shabbat…still our best attended services.

At various times you have guided our b’nai mitzvah program…assisted our rabbi…engineered our audio/visual equipment…catered our functions…and organized our events. You are as skilled with our musical liturgy as you are with a spatula or a bullhorn.

You’ve raised your own beautiful family in our midst…and helped raise our congregational family right along with them.

So it’s my great honor representing the congregation to present you with a token of our gratitude and affection. This tribute book contains messages of love and appreciation from members of our congregation. It serves as a permanent reminder of the way you have touched our lives.

Thanks to Sue Lewis, Nancy Ferrick, Marcia Gladstone, and Marcy Pluznick-Marrin for their work in creating it. And thanks to all of you for your heartfelt contributions to it.

Leira, from all of us in the Shomrei Torah family, accept this book along with our undying love and thanks… for all you have done for us…and all you mean to us. We wish you and your family the very best in your new lives up north.

Joining Shomrei Torah’s Legacy Circle was easy: print the form, check a box, sign and date, and it was done. That’s how simple it is to accomplish something so profoundly important for the future of our community. (I also downloaded a one-page codicil form, indicated an amount – in my case a percentage of whatever is in my estate—signed it before a witness, and stapled it to my will. That took another minute or so.)

What makes membership in the Legacy Circle so important to Shomrei Torh is obvious: at some point in the (hopefully) distant future a portion of my estate will benefit our synagogue. I didn’t name an amount, nor specify its use. I simply declared an intention to remember CST in my estate planning.

My reasons for joining the Legacy Circle are many. My main motivation is to help ensure a long-term funding source for a community that has given so much to me and my family. Shomrei Torah has nurtured my children’s Jewish identity. It has provided me with meaningful friendships and the comfort of belonging to a community. Contributing to Shomrei Torah makes tangible the notion that I am part of something larger than myself. And while I confess that I sometimes struggle with the notion of a benevolent God, Shomrei Torah provides me with the space, to paraphrase one of my favorite lines from the prayer book, occasionally to step out of the world of creation and ponder the creation of the world.

Also satisfying is the knowledge that, in some small way, my participation in the Legacy Circle furthers the mission of Shomrei Torah. As the Talmud teaches us, it’s not my responsibility to complete the work of tikkun olam, but it is my responsibility to start it. Shomrei Torah is a better start than most.

It’s also true that, as president of the congregation, I feel an obligation to lead by example. I can’t very well ask others to support CST unless I am willing to make the same commitment I’m asking others to make. So now that I’m a card-carrying member of the Legacy Circle it’s open season: expect to be asked.

I am so inspired by those who have already made this simple but vitally important commitment. Many of my fellow Legacy Circle members have designated a specific purpose for the funds that they will eventually contribute. I haven’t done that yet. There are so many valuable aspects to Shomrei Torah’s mission that it’s difficult to choose one to support over all the others. However, I may decide to target the funds to a specific use at some point in the future as the synagogue’s needs change.

What I do know is that the folks who have joined the Legacy Circle envision and ensure a future where Shomrei Torah continues to do what it has always done: be a center for Jewish culture, community, social action, spiritual growth, and scholarship for generations to come.

B’shalom,

Bruce

Our hearts go out to the families of those murdered in Toulouse on Monday. What can we say in the face of such cold-blooded killings? There are no words for such a loss; silence is better than trying to fill the void with well- meaning but meaningless babble.

There is nothing we can say to make this tragedy okay, but we can and should speak out against all forms of bigotry and discrimination, including but not limited to, anti-Semitism. Neither the identity nor the motives of the killer are known yet, though the authorities believe that the same man who fired the deadly and brutal shots in Toulouse, was also responsible for the killing a week ago of three Muslim soldiers outside their base. Thus, it appears that the gunman’s target was not Jews alone, but rather those he considers to be foreign to French soil.

Nevertheless, the question does arise: Is France becoming more and more hostile to the 500,000 Jews who live there? (France has the largest Jewish community in Europe). According to The Washington Post, “while the number of anti-Semitic attacks in 2011 fell to 389, the aggressiveness of the attacks is rising. In 2010, 466 were reported. Those acts include everything from violence to vandalism.”

The New York Times quoted France’s Chief Rabbi, Gilles Bernheim as saying, “France is not anti-Semitic, but there are frightening acts of anti-Semitism in France.”

Trends aside, any attack like this touches a raw nerve for Jews the world over; will we ever be safe? Has anything changed since World War II?

I crave answers to those questions almost as much as I long to take the hurt away from the families of those murdered in Toulouse (a rabbi, two of his small children and a 7-year-old girl).

It appears that vigilance is the best retort, and history the most likely indicator of what will be.

HaMakom Y’nakhem Et’khem B’tokh Sha’ar Aveilei Tziyon Virushalayim.
May God comfort the families of those murdered in Toulouse along with all mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

My focus for the evening was “Loving Kindness” or as the Buddhists call it: “Metta”. Metta is a meditation practice where you wish people – yourself, loved ones, folks that you struggle with – well. Here are the words that I use:

May I be safe
May I be happy
May I be free from suffering
May I be at ease.

I have spent years (yes, years) wishing myself and others well in this way because I believe, b’chol l’vavkha/with all my heart, that Loving Kindness, which Metta fosters – an open heart –is the whole Torah and the way of the Tzadik.

It may seem simple (too simple) but don’t be mislead.

We are commanded to “love our neighbor as ourselves”. That means that our ability to love our neighbor is in some way dependent upon, tied to our ability to love ourselves.

Tell the truth: do you love yourself? Sylvia Boorstein asked me this question once. I started to cry. In my experience, self love can be one of the hardest things for most of us yet, how can we “love our neighbor” if we can’t accept, let alone love ourselves? This is where Metta can be so helpful because by wishing ourselves well we inevitably confront the aspects of our lives that we struggle with; it is not the confrontation that is healing but rather the acceptance that Metta teaches; even the yucky stuff is worthy of, in need of, calling out for a blessing.

Every morning a praying Jew says, Elohai neshema sh’natata bi t’hora hi/My God the soul you have given me is pure! Pure! My essence, your essence, our core is ta-hor, pure! That is the message that Metta reinforces; no matter what has happened to us, or even what we have done, no one or no thing can take that holy, pure essence from us!

Purim just ended and my mind is still in some ways lingering there. Purim is all about the vulnerability of Exile. Esther is the ultimate symbol of that vulnerability, a crypto Jew, who lives at the whim of a foolish and capricious king as a glorified concubine in his harem; rape has always been part of the vulnerability of exile.

May we be safe
May we be happy
May we be free from suffering
May we be at ease

It was so poignant to celebrate Purim as the threat of a nuclear Iran hit the world stage. Hard to know which to be more afraid of: Iran or Israel attempting to take out Iran’s nuclear capability on its own.

May we be safe
May we be happy
May we be free from suffering
May we be at ease

The focus gets infinitely clearer since my son Levi is in Israel as I write this blog, at a high school called Harduf, in the north near Haifa. You see, if war breaks out with Iran (or even if it does not) it is likely (possible) that Iran’s client, Hezbollah, which has taken over most of Lebanon, will rain rockets down on northern Israel and my son, with everyone else, assuming he/they get there in time, will be living in a bomb shelter.

May they be safe
May they  be happy
May they be free from suffering
May they be at ease

So, do I wish Ahmandinejad well? “May you be ….” No. That’s way too tall of a spiritual order for me! Yes, I do think the Dalai Lama or the Bal Shem Tov, z”l, or maybe even the late Rabbi Schneerson, z”l, could pull off such a thing but I must confess that such an act of hesed, of loving kindness is beyond me, at least at the moment. But I will note, even as I write these words, that it does not feel good to wish Ahmandinejad ill either! Don’t misunderstand; I am not saying we should just “turn the other cheek”. That is another religion altogether! We have every right to defend ourselves. Indeed it is a mitzvah, a commandment for us to defend ourselves. The question is, do we harden our hearts in the process?

Golda Meir once said: “I can forgive you for killing our sons but not for making our sons kill yours…”

Purim is past and Pesakh is just around the corner. In Purim, God’s face is hidden; humans do all the work. In Pesakh we see the great hand of God in history, parting the sea, bringing down manna from heaven. It is Pharaoh’s heart that is hardened; we are set free! What is freedom but an open heart?

May we be safe
May we be happy
May we be free from suffering
May we be at ease

Hag Sameakh!

RG

The second is our very own Jewish Food Festival on August 19.

Both of these events are enormous undertakings – truly labors of love by dozens of hardworking volunteers. How do you explain the willingness of so many to work so hard for this community?

You could argue that all of these individuals are utterly selfless human beings, but the truth is that they each receive something of incalculable value in return for their contributions of time, energy and talent. I can’t tell you exactly what motivates these members to give so much of themselves, but I do know that the result is the same: the living, breathing, vibrant, and incredibly productive community that is Shomrei Torah.

The late Rabbi Michael Robinson—a bona fide expert on the subject of giving back – often spoke of the opportunity to give as a blessing each of us receives. Rather than depleting what you already have, giving of yourself to others is an investment that repays the investor many times over.

The Jewish Food Fest is no ordinary opportunity to be so blessed. In fact, Shomrei Torah has never attempted anything quite this ambitious before. One Sunday this summer we are inviting the entire community – 1,000 of our neighbors, Jewish and non-Jewish – into our home for a veritable Jewish feast: corn beef on rye, lox and cream cheese, latkes, kugle, sweets of every kind, some music and entertainment, and a chance to experience what it’s like to be an M-O-T (member of the tribe). Or, at the very least, to eat like one.

But it can’t happen without the help of every single member of our congregation: all 430 of our households. That’s the only way other synagogue food festivals succeed: with near 100% volunteer participation.

On Tuesday, April 3, the Food Fest Committee invites you to dinner (your $10 per-person donation supports Maria Carillo High School’s culinary program) to tell you about all the ways you can help make the First Annual Jewish Food Fest a roaring success. No matter who you are, we need you, whether on a simple task or a major project; before, during or after. No matter what your capability or availability, your synagogue community needs your hep. Please have someone from your household plan to attend the April 3 kick-off dinner for volunteers. Even that small investment of your time will yield riches uncountable. You deserve this opportunity for a blessing.

B’shalom,
Bruce