The Rabbis Corner

Erev Rosh Hashanah 5786 - Not either or but both and

Many years ago (41), a professor in rabbinical school told us the following: “As rabbis, each of you has four, maybe five sermons in total. You will learn to dress them up in different quotes, anecdotes, a little humor, perhaps a nugget from history. You will mix and match. But underneath, you will find yourselves returning to the same themes, the same questions, again and again.”

Last month, I decided to test that theory. I uploaded every sermon on my computer into ChatGPT, and asked: “What are the four or five themes I tend to return to?” Within seconds, the answer appeared. I won’t tell you the results just yet—you’ll have to wait until Yom Kippur. But if you think you know what they are, jot them down on a 3x5 card. We’ll compare lists at the break-the-fast. There will be prizes.  Read more...

Rosh HaShanah Morning 5786- Awake, You Sleepers

The commandment regarding the shofar is unusual. We are not commanded to blow the shofar. We are commanded to hear it. It’s uncommon because we generally are expected to perform a mitzvah ourselves. We are commanded to light Shabbat candles, not watch someone else do it. At Pesach, we are commanded to eat the matzah, not listen to someone else chewing it.

So what is the deal with hearing the shofar?

One possible answer is suggested by something Maimonides, also known by the acronym Rambam, wrote in the 12th century. In Hilchot Teshuvah, the Laws of Repentance, he writes: “Even though the shofar on Rosh Hashanah is a Torah decree, it contains a hint: Awake, you sleepers, from your sleep! You slumberers, from your slumber! Search your deeds, return in repentance, and remember your Creator.”

The shofar, Rambam tells us, is not just a ritual. It is a wake-up call. Read more...

Yom Kippur Morning 5786-  How to Find Hope

An elderly Jewish man is on his death-bed, and his grandson is visiting him. The grandson asks, ‘Grandpa, is there anything I can get you?’ and the old man says, “Yes — I want you should go downstairs to the kitchen, and get me a nice piece of rugelach from Grandma, so on my last day on earth I can taste some delicious rugelach.’ The grandson goes downstairs and comes back five minutes later with nothing. The old man says, ‘What…what happened to the rugelach?’, and the grandson says, ‘Grandma says she’s saving it for the shiva.”

Yes, even in life’s most singular, most challenging moments, we Jews like to impose regular order. We are, even at such moments, a practical people. Through many recent conversations, I have come to understand what many of us are asking in whispered conversations, in sleepless nights, and in the privacy of our own hearts: How are we going to get through this?

How are we going to get through this?

How are we going to get through a world where Russia still bombs Ukrainian cities, where Israeli and Palestinian parents bury their children, where democracy itself is under siege, where cruelty and cynicism so often drown out compassion?

That question is real. And if we leave it unspoken, the silence is likely to become despair. But if we can ask it aloud, then we can begin to answer it together... Read more...

Sermon on Israel

On Erev Rosh HaShanah, I made a somewhat confessional statement: that every rabbi has three or four sermon topics, which they then adorn with different stories, anecdotes, historical quotes, and so on. I challenged congregants to try to discern my four go-to issues and bring the list to break the fast tomorrow.  

If you are keeping score, I have arrived at sermon topic number three, the modern state of Israel. There are years when I return to this topic reluctantly. Sometimes with passion. Sometimes with tears. But I always return.

Why? Because Israel is not just a place on a map. Its contours are embossed on the Jewish heart and woven into our imagination and our prayers. For millennia, our people prayed three times a day, “Return us to Jerusalem.” And when we finally did return, we discovered again what we had always known:

Ayn li eretz acheret. I have no other land. So goes a popular Israeli song from the 1980s. It is nothing less than an existential statement of purpose. Read more...

Join Us for Shabbat Every Friday Night

Wine and Cheese
5:00pm (during summer months)

Shabbat Services
6:00pm

On Friday nights, our Sinai community gathers together to lift our voices in song and prayer.