On saying goodbye

This is a very strange month for me. As I prepare to depart from Newburgh and Congregation Agudas Israel, I am beginning to contemplate my new life in St. Petersburg with Congregation B’nai Israel. I wonder what will be the same and what will be different? What will my responsibilities entail? How will I be welcomed and how will I ensure that the synagogue there is a place of welcoming for all?


This too is a journey!

As I ponder those questions, I have been working on the challenging text of winding down here. I have been trying to keep up my normal working activities, while also making extra efforts to make phone calls, meet in person, sit down and talk to the people of CAI. For the last seven years, they have been by my side in so many different ways. We have studied Torah together, prayed together, shared celebrations and mourned together. As I go about these coffees, lunches, dinners, meetings I have become overwhelmed by the words of kindness I have heard. I have discovered that small gestures on my part have been received as larger than life by their recipients. A phone call, a text message, a Facebook post, a hospital or home visit.

For me, these are what I imagine is expected behavior from a rabbi. Our job, our career is study, prayer, inspiration, but most of all, it is to be present with the souls of those around us. The job is not just what we put down on paper or in the ether of the internet, but in the human interactions that are far harder to tally. I might have made lists of the thousands of phone calls, hundreds of visits, and far too many funerals, but instead we all have our respective memories.

Through it all, I am most grateful to my beloved. She has stood by me through interrupted dinners, evenings, nights. She has known that those “interruptions” were sacred moments, calls to be with people in their brightest and darkest moments. Being a rabbi is more than a full time position. My phone is always nearby. Even on Shabbat, we can be reached via the doorbell. None of this would be possible without her support and her love. My work is in my office and yours, in my home and yours, within the community in so many different ways. As I say my goodbyes around town, I discover that within the community I am a (very) minor celebrity, that my gestures of goodwill have been well received.

All in all, I am grateful for the time I have spent here. For me, Newburgh and CAI was a place of personal, spiritual, intellectual growth. It was a place where I took the theory of my education and turned it into practical ministry, practical rabbinics. Sometimes I made mistakes, and I hope that I took responsibility for them, that I learned from them. I have never claimed to be perfect, but am always striving to be better, to build a kesher, a connection with Gd and community.

Leaving is bittersweet. New opportunities beckon, new adventures await, yet the love I have for this community will always remain. CAI and Newburgh are holy places. They have been an essential part of my rabbinic journey. I pray for the strong, bright, vibrant future of these holy communities.

Video Post! Behalotecha

Shabbat Shalom!

A post of a different sort

I recently had the privielge of attending the Lewis Marshall Dinner at JTS.  My Uncle Ira Schuman has been instrumental in organizing and creating The JTS's 21st Century Campus Project.  You can see more about that project here:
https://www.21stcenturycampus.jtsa.edu/

I admire the work of my alma mater and look forward to seeing how this new dorm and library will help improve the feeling of community that I had whilst living in Brush.  There was something very special about living IN the Seminary.  While I did regularly entertain my classmates by coming to class in Na'ot, t-shirts and shorts in the middle of winter, it was inspiring to know that the desk in my study/living room could have been used my generations of students, many of them brilliant minds and scholars.  It was powerful to know that the halls I walked, the kitchen I shared, and the bedroom I slept in had been a part of the Seminary's history for almost a hundred years.  There was something very powerful about sleeping in the building, being able to walk to class without really going outside, living, breathing, the Torah, the Talmud, grabbing a book from the Beit Midrash in the middle of the night, or sitting in the library until it closed.  One loss was that after I married, I had to move out!

With the new campus project, EVERYONE will be able to have that experience.  Their fixtures and furniture will be much more up to date, but they will be able to live and learn in community in a way that I was able to--as well as generations of single students before me.  I am encouraged by the work of JTS and support this endeavor--and my uncle's leadership in it.

Coming into NYC from Newburgh is a schlep, so I made it an afternoon and saw The Band's Visit.  NPR has a great review speaking about how the show demonstrates common ground.
"It suddenly felt really urgent to say that people are people," says Moses. "And when you strip away politics and the sort of rigid tribes that we seem to cling to and belong to, everybody can connect over the need for food and shelter and music and the need for love itself."

The show is not about "the conflict".  It is not about hate or mistrust.  Rather, it is about how in our hearts, as human beings, we all have the same needs.  We need food, clothing, shelter and love.  I would argue we also need faith--belief--hope--however we call it.

By Tdrivas - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=66957987

The music was inspiring and a beautiful blend of Middle Eastern styles--Egyptian, Israeli, Lebanese, with a little bit of Broadway flair!  By the time it was done, I felt the desire to get lessons in OUD!

Overall, it was an inspiring and enjoyable show.  I highly recommend it.

A Narrow Bridge

A few years back we had Mama Doni for Hanukkah.  They previewed a couple of their beautiful Jewish Bluegrass songs.  Now singing as Nefesh Mountain, they have made it big.  They are on the Top Ten Country Chart from Rolling Stone! https://www.rollingstone.com/country/lists/best-country-songs-to-hear-now-tyler-farr-tenille-townes-w519353/nefesh-mountain-the-narrow-bridge-w519356

Click here to listen to the beautiful song:

As I'm listening to their incredible entire album now (Beyond the Open Sky), I was especially moved by this song.  Based around Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav's famous statement: The whole world is a narrow bridge, the important thing is not to (make yourself) afraid.

Nefesh Mountain wrote beautiful lyrics and melody to add to the words of Reb Nachman: (Lyrics courtesy of Nefesh Mountain)

The chorus is especially powerful:

Troubled times, troubled times

You don’t ease a worried mind

Troubled times, troubled times

Just stay behind

It’s not far from our homes

This song speaks to our own life journeys. Some days we find ourselves challenged.  Some days we find ourselves overwhelmed, but in the beauty of this music we can lift ourselves up.

I have walked this world on the Narrow Bridge

Kol haolam kulo

From the lowlands so low, to high up on the ridge

Gesher tsar meod

The bridge may FEEL narrow, but our lives are filled with possibilities.  No obstacle is insurmountable.  As I listen to this song, I'm inspired. These last few weeks have been filled with so much tsurris, so many troubles, but this song brings me hope.  We can overcome anything.

All we need to do is find ways of changing our perspectives.  Any problem can seem overwhelming if we look at it from the wrong angle.  If we can step back, if we can recognize the interaction of our emotions and our logic, we can find a new way to tackle them.  This may sound like pop psychology, but it is really ancient wisdom.  The world may be a narrow bridge, but it is a bridge that can take us to our next adventure. It is a bridge to our future.  It is a bridge to love, life, and all the good that is coming!

Yom Hashoah part two

Yad Vashem Museum in Jerusalem

How do we feel the loss of someone we never knew?  My family was lucky.  Depending on how you count, I'm a fourth or fifth generation American citizen.  My great-great grandparents came to this country from all across Central and Eastern Europe.  While I am sure that I lost distant relatives to the plague of Nazi hatred, massacre and murder; my immediate family has been in this country for almost a century and a half.

How do I thank my ancestors for making a decision to leave their homes, their families, everything they knew and coming to the Goldeneh Medinah?  How do I show my appreciation to the United States of America for welcoming them with open arms--or at least letting them in the door?

Yet, even without a direct personal connection to the Shoah, I find this a mournful day.  Kol Yisrael Arevim Zeh lazeh-All Israel is responsible for one another.  We are a people.  We are a nation.  We are a faith.  As Jews, we are all connected to each other--and to the broader human family.  We are all one.  If one person is hurt, we all cry out.  As a Jew, the Shoah pains me deeply.  The candle on my desk reminds me of the loss of millions of Jews, as well as millions of gays, lesbians, political prisoners, people with disabilities, Roma, and so many others.  Hitler started with us, but the cancer of hate spread quickly.

Today I see massacres all across the world.  Whether in Sudan, against the Rohinga in Myanmar, against gays and lesbians in much of the Muslim world, massacres still happen.  Genocide still happens.  And the hatred of Jews remains one of the most stubborn viruses in the world.

This blog does not say much, but it also says everything.  As Jews, we have a responsibility to one another, but we also have a responsibility to the world.  We, who have been the victims of violence against us from near the beginning of time, must continue to cry out against hatred everywhere.  Yet it cannot just be as Jews.  It must be as all humans.  Humanity as a whole must know that if one of us is injured, we all bleed.  Never forget.

Thank you FJMC!

Since 1981 the Federation of Jewish Men's Clubs has commemorated the Shoah with Yellow Candles.
https://www.fjmc.org/content/yellow-candles-home

They have reminded us of the importance of remembering.  They have shown us that while the number of living survivors dwindles each year, that we are perilously close to having no one left with their own memories, WE are the memories.  Our existence as Jews is a living memorial to the Shoah.

The Shoah is in our bones.  It is in our DNA.  Every living Jew is a reminder of the failure of Nazi Germany and its collaborators throughout Europe.

Today, we must remember.  We must see the blood, the hate, and most perilously, we must see how ordinary the violence was and remains.

If only immigration was possible for our relatives.
If only more Germans had stood up against Hitler.
If only the League of Nations had done anything.
If only more Poles and Ukranians hadn't been ready to hand over or murder their neighbors. 
If only Stalin had done something, like welcomed more refugees.
If only Roosevelt had done something, like bombing the tracks to Auschwitz.
If only Churchill had done something, like opening the doors of Mandate Palestine.
If only...

And yet, what happens today?  Across the world there is violence and unrest, nationalism, fascism, hatred are again rearing their ugly heads.  What are we doing?  Are we welcoming the stranger? Are we feeding the hungry?  Are we staying quiet?  Are we speaking out?

I am proud to be Jewish.  I am proud to speak of my identity, my religion, my faith, my Gd.  I am grateful that others spoke out for me.  I am grateful that my ancestors came to the United States to escape persecution and find new opportunities.  I am grateful to the FJMC for their work in sharing memories and creating new ones.  We must continue to remember and speak out.

Thank you JTS. RTI was amazing.

From January 7-11, 2018, I had the privilege of attending the 33rd Annual Rabbinic Training Institute.

 I am deeply grateful to an anonymous donor who helped make it possible for me to attend. Since my ordination, I’ve desired to go, but time and/or finances have never quite worked out. I cannot fully express my appreciation to them for making it happen this year.

Every year I would hear from colleagues what an amazing experience it was. I heard of colleagues who have been every year for a decade or more. They spoke highly of hevruta, of collegiality, of time for Torah that was truly Lishmah.

My time at Pearlstone was restorative. It was enriching. It was inspiring. Studying with Rabbi Dr. Jeff Rubenstein, Rabbi Dr. Joel Roth, and Rabbi Dan Liben was so powerful. The professional skills were also useful, but the Torah was simply on another plane. I am grateful for having the opportunity to put text in context with Dr. Rubenstein, to think about how to connect Talmudic sources to our modern lives. While I attempt (and regularly fail) at Daf Yomi, I enjoy the breadth of the material, of trying to think about how the rabbis would view our milieu.  Dr. Rubenstein really captured that spirit, juxtaposing modern and ancient texts in unique ways. I was especially fond of the Israeli/Bavli intermarriage and comparison to Amelia Bedelia.

Studying with Rabbi Roth is always a pleasure. His digressions are as inspiring as his texts. He finds ways of reminding us of the importance of studying from those we may disagree with, of looking at complicated and challenging issues and finding more positive solutions. He is humorous and serious in a way that shows a living Torah.

Rabbi Liben’s manner of teaching was so gentle and yet so hopeful. He brought an energy and a level of forgiveness that I needed at this time in my life. The texts and practices he shared were a reminder of how we can build a spiritual practice through our sources, our prayers, our liturgy. Again, the Torah he taught was vital, filled with a life force human and Divine.

In our daily lives as rabbis, we strive to be present for our communities and congregants. Sometimes we need a reminder to stop and take care of our own souls, our own bodies, our own spirits, our own hearts and minds. RTI was a sacred gift. It brought me closer to myself, to my friends, my Torah, and to our shared Shechinah, our Divine Presence. It was a holy experience and I returned energized and enlivened. Since I have returned, I have mentioned RTI on a daily basis. The Torah I learned there is one that will be with me always. I cannot wait to sign up for next year.