Dear Friends,

In today’s ever-more-polarized world, there seems to be a decline in civility. The norms which dictate decent behavior seem to be eroding, as our interactions have become angrier, uglier and more vulgar. We make assumptions based on superficialities; we engage others with a diminished sense of trust and respect; we frequently jump to conclusions based on how people look, what they believe, how they vote and who they love.

In the marketplace of ideas, our engagement with each other has become a fragile, hyper-sensitized battlefield. We rarely listen to each other anymore, and when we do, we do so to find holes in the arguments of the other. A nuanced art of dialogue has given way to knee-jerk defensiveness, as a desire to find common ground and compromise has been replaced with viewing opposing opinions as an adversary that needs to be defeated. It has become almost impossible to have a reasonable conversation on any given topic of concern without having to brace ourselves for reactivity. Healthcare, public education, guns, taxes, national security are real issues which deserve discussion and debate, but instead, these topics quickly erode into vulgar, disrespectful diatribes from all sides.

The truth is that at the heart of the democratic process is civil engagement. Civility is the bridge to a place where common ground can be established, and the Jewish New Year provides us with an opportunity to consider better ways to engage those with whom we may disagree.

There is a famous parable about the ongoing disputes between the house of Hillel and the House of Shamai. According to the Talmud, God ultimately sides with Hillel on all matters of the law.  This is because the House of Hillel (unlike the house of Shamai) always cited the rulings of both sides of every dispute.  Hillel’s rulings always gave credence to Shamai’s view, demonstrating humility and legitimizing the value of the perspectives of others.

As our nation prepares for heated debates among presidential hopefuls in the months to come, and as we engage each other on controversial topics at large, we need to strive to be more like Hillel. Instead of digging in our heals, insisting we are right, we need to open our minds to alternative ways of seeing and understanding. Instead of listening for holes in arguments, we need to listen attentively to the narrative of others with curiosity and interest. We need to seek common ground (even when we know we don’t agree), and we need to find ways of continuing a conversation with reason and respect.

 

Dear Friends,

Few Jewish rituals celebrate life in a more complete way than that of a bar or bat mitzvah ceremony. From the perspective of a congregation, a bar or bat mitzvah holds great significance for the entire community. It celebrates a congregation’s efforts to educate its children; it brings members together in ways which mix the private aspects of a life-cycle celebration with the public aspects of communal worship; and it generates enthusiasm for the transmission of Torah from generation to generation. In many ways, this ancient ceremony provides multiple generations of a community an opportunity to learn, evolve and celebrate in a very Jewish way.

To become bar/bat mitzvah means to become a religiously responsible individual in the eyes of the Jewish community. The terms Bar Mitzvah and Bat Mitzvah literally mean “son and daughter of the commandment.” Technically, these terms refer to a coming of age when Jewish boys and girls become accountable for religious observance.

According to the Talmud, this transition in personal accountability takes place as soon as a child begins to look like an adult (usually at the age of 12 or 13). Thus, the bar mitzvah ceremony for boys and the bat mitzvah ceremony for girls each represent ways for the entire community to formally recognize and publicly celebrate the beginning of religious adulthood.

While this ceremony has long been a celebration for teens, a second kind of bar/bat mitzvah ceremony at the age of eighty-three has gained popularity. This Second Bar/Bat Mitzvah ceremony is based on a reading found in Psalm 90:10, which says that the span of a human life is three score and ten years. Based on this ancient expectation for the human lifespan, our tradition has come to see seventy years of age as a new beginning. Eighty-three years of age, therefore, could be considered the equivalent to reaching bar/bat mitzvah age a second time around.

At HCRJ, we recently celebrated yet another form of bar/bat mitzvah ceremony, which I believe has the potential to become a new and extremely powerful way of commemorating Jewish values and personal commitments to our faith and heritage. On Saturday night, May 11, Bruce Shelby and Jay Kaplan celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of their becoming b’nai mitzvah. In contrast to the ceremonies at thirteen and eighty-three, this anniversary version of b’nai mitzvah has no precedent, and therefore had the potential to define an entirely new concept in the celebration of a Jewish life.

Bruce and Jay first celebrated becoming bnai mitzvah in 1969 at Congregation Emanu El.  On that date, they read from the Torah and celebrated with family and friends. They each delivered speeches which addressed how they planned to apply the values found in their Torah portions to their lives in the future.

Fifty years later, at HCRJ, Bruce and Jay read the same Torah portion and celebrated with many of the same family and friends, but this time they had the joy of looking back rather than ahead.  They had an opportunity to reflect on how they had, indeed, applied the values they pledged to uphold in their speeches at the age of 13 and consider how those values shaped their lives throughout the years.  In this powerful ceremony, their wives and children expressed their appreciation and shared their pride and their love.

When we think about it, the only time this kind of retrospective tribute to our adult lives ever takes place is after we die and a eulogy is crafted in our memory. How glorious it is to be able to celebrate our accomplishments and our devotion to our faith, family and community with those we love while we are still physically and mentally able to do so.

Whether it is at thirteen, eighty-three or in celebration of the anniversary of our coming of age, the bar/bat mitzvah ceremony continues to be one of the most meaningful ritual celebrations of our faith. Through its focus on the transmission of our values through Torah, prayer and mitzvah, the bar/bat mitzvah ceremony enables us to confirm and embrace our place as a link in a timeless chain of tradition that reaches back through our heritage and forward (we pray) into the future.

 

Dear Friends,

Many Jews around the world are currently observing a sacred period of the Jewish calendar year called, “The Counting of the Omer.”  This observance is based on the biblical mandate to count bundles of grain (the omer) every day for seven weeks from the second day of Passover through the festival of Shavuot.

Traditionally, this seven-week period is considered to be a minor mourning period. Throughout these forty-nine days (with a few exceptions), observant Jews treat these days like any other period of mourning.  Weddings and other major celebrations are prohibited during this time, and grooming of nails, shaving and haircuts are not done.

While it is not clear why these seven weeks are set aside as a mourning period, a Talmudic legend claims that thousands of disciples of Rabbi Akiva died in the early 1st century from a plague, which supposedly transpired during the weeks between Passover and Shavuot. Oddly, there is not much more that can be found regarding the historical backdrop for these forty-nine days of ritual counting and communal morning. Thus, with very little historical meaning connected to the omer and the customs of morning and counting, observance of the rituals associated with these seven weeks ebbed.

Additionally, as the Jewish world evolved beyond the rituals of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, the concept of counting bundles of grain lost its significance for most Jews of the modern era. In recent years, however, this ritual period of counting has experienced a spiritual revival.  For Jews seeking to find meaning beyond the ancient agricultural rituals, the forty-nine days of “The Counting of the Omer” has been redefined as a period to cultivate the human spirit rather than the land.  One modern interpretation of the “The Counting of the Omer” suggests that this ancient ritual encourages us to count our blessings and make each and every day of our lives count.

Counting our blessings will play a central role at our Annual Meeting on May 19, as we honor and celebrate the many blessings brought to us by our Executive Director, Melissa Wolfson. Melissa has been with HCRJ for ten years, and her service to our community has been exemplary. Throughout her decade of dedication, Melissa has committed herself to growing and evolving with our community.

Melissa started as part time office manager with basic secretarial responsibilities, but as our congregation rapidly expanded, so too did the demands on Melissa. With an eye for detail and a boundless desire to meet our constantly changing needs, Melissa devoted herself to developing the skills and mastering the technologies which were central to the management and development of the business side of HCRJ.

 

Dear Friends,

I recently read an essay written by my son, Simon, who is currently 15 years old.  The paper was on the pursuit of happiness, and I was pleasantly surprised that one of his primary arguments was crafted around something he had learned in Sunday school. The teaching had come from his 7th grade Sunday school teacher, Dolph Simon, who said, “In order to make a change for the better, changing your attitude in order to change your behavior will not work.  You have to change your behavior to change your attitude.”

As I read this essay, my heart swelled with pride. I was proud of Simon who found a way to apply what he was learning in Sunday school to his everyday life, and I was proud of Simon’s Sunday school teacher, Dolph, who consistently inspires our students to apply what they learn to how they live.

Reading this small part of Simon’s essay reminded me that Sunday school should not exist in isolation. The hope is that our children will apply the values they learn in class to making this world a better place.  This hope is embedded in our parenting strategies as well, as our responsibility to transmit our faith to the next generation can, at times, be very challenging.

As Jewish parents, we try our best to provide our children with ways to weave their Jewish values into the fabric of life in a secular world. We want our children to be proud and loyal to their heritage, but when the demands and rhythms of Jewish life compete with those of secular life, major challenges arise.

One of the many ways to approach these growing challenges is to model, through our own behaviors, the values we hope our children will embrace.  We often tell our children, “Do what I do and not what I say,” and the same should be true as we seek to transmit the values and customs of our faith.  In Sunday school and at home, we can talk a good talk about our Judaism, but if our children do not see us applying our Judaism to everyday life, our words simply become nods to the past. However, if we are truly committed to transferring the lessons of our heritage from generation to generation, then each of us needs to find ways to inspire our children (and others) to live what they learn.

In just a few weeks, Jews around the world will gather around their Seder tables in celebration of Passover. Through the rituals and the rites of the Seder meal, we all become students of our faith as values concerning human freedoms and issues around social justice are woven into the fabric of the Passover feast. As we re-enact the story of our ancestral Exodus from Egypt from year to year, we remind ourselves of the importance of applying the values of our heritage to the transformation of the world. This year, may we each find ways to apply what we learn to what we do.

 

Dear Friends,

In the stated core values of Houston Congregation for Reform Judaism is the idea that a small membership base is the best way to preserve a warm and intimate community. While this may indeed be true for many aspects of congregational life, it is equally true that maintaining such intimacy demands nurturing relationships regardless of how many members we may have.

Intimacy is relational, and as it is with all relationships, the intimate nature of a community is dependent on how well people know each other. Such familiarity, however, can pose a number of significant challenges.

As members come and go throughout the years, the landscape of a community morphs. New members frequently do not know anyone for extended periods of time, while longer standing members often feel most comfortable with those whom they already know. These types of challenges are common in congregations with an ever expanding membership base. With more members, it can often feel less intimate, less warm and less inviting. For many longer standing members, the ability to remain familiar with and connected to the congregational family can often be somewhat strained, as familiar faces seem to fade into a crowd of strangers.

Bridging this “familiarity gap” involves generating opportunities for members to engage each other on a regular basis, but onegs after services and holiday celebrations are very limited in terms of how well members can get to know each other. After all, how much can you learn about someone while waiting in line for a cookie on Friday night?

One of the most successful congregation-wide mixers has been the HCRJ Progressive Dinner. It has been almost ten years since we held such an event, and we are excited to announce our grandest effort ever!

Please mark your calendars for the 2019 HCRJ Progressive Dinner which will take place on Saturday night May 4.  The basic premise of the evening is to have small groups of members meet and greet over a first course at one home, a second course with a different mix of members at a second home and a fabulous dessert reception at the temple. Details regarding this program are forthcoming. Please save the date.

The 18th century Hasidic master, Rebbe Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev taught the following regarding human relationships.  He said in a lifetime “a person reaches in three directions – inward, to oneself; up to God; out to others. The miracle of life is that in truly reaching in any one direction, one embraces all three.”  It is our hope that our coming together for a Progressive Dinner in May will enable us to feed the soul as we deepen connections with one another.

 

Dear Friends,

A number of years ago, a congregant who was frustrated with dues, handed me a check for $86.00 and told me that he was covered for the year. “Covered for what?” I asked.  He explained that he only attended synagogue a few times a year and that the check should cover the amount his presence consumed in terms of running the temple’s utilities and maintenance.

This incident was one of the strangest dues related interactions I have ever had, as this individual’s sense of congregational support was extremely ill-conceived.  That said, the exchange does, indeed, reflect a strange tension between the concept of being part of a congregational family and a “pay to pray” mentality that many in the Jewish community have come to resent.

Congregations, like so many other institutions for cultural and communal gatherings, have many sources for support.  Some of this support comes in the form of annual dues and project-specific pledges.  Other ways to support a synagogue is through sponsorships and underwriting. Still others choose to support congregational efforts by volunteering. Each kind of support is valued, and each is essential to the health and mission of the institution.

Our Second Annual HCRJ Golf Tournament is part of a much broader effort to generate a culture of giving.  While golf is the current means for cultivating support, the tournament itself must be seen in light of a much greater mission.  We are trying to develop a culture of philanthropy whereby each of our members considers himself/herself to be personally invested and emotionally tied to the future of the congregation.

One does not need to play golf or bingo or mahjong to be a supporter or a volunteer.  One does not need to be in attendance at the next gala or fundraiser, to feel connected. One does not need to be a donor or an underwriter to feel appreciated and valued.  While all of these are absolutely essential to our financial bottom line, they are only part of the philanthropic mindset.

We want everyone in our community to feel connected and committed to a shared congregational mission.  Through our innovative programs, services, events and more, our goal is to reframe every effort we make as one that is rooted in a culture of giving in which personal resources, finances, time and energy are all welcome and extremely appreciated – and where everything we do, everything we give and everything we develop is entrenched in a desire to build a congregational culture of goodness, graciousness and gratitude.

Our hope is that, over time, attitudes, like the one mentioned at the beginning of this article, will no longer exist and, as we grow as a community, a culture of collective responsibility will become a driving force for our future.

 

Sometimes the etymology of words can reveal tremendous depth and meaning. Such is the case when we examine the deeper meaning behind the commonly used expression, “Thanks for your generosity.”

The word thank is related phonetically to think just as the word song is related to sing. This etymological insight helps us to understand that feelings of gratitude have long been linked to human thought.  When we receive a gift from someone, we tend to think of them in an elevated way, and this cognitive shift is directly imbedded in the way in which we express gratitude.  When we say, “Thank you,” we are essentially saying, “This gift makes me think of you.”

The origins of the word generosity are insightful as well. Rooted in the Latin word for “of noble birth,” expressions of generosity emerge from an honorable place in the human soul. Thus, when we say, “Thank you for your generosity,” we are essentially saying, “This noble offering from the depths of your soul makes me think of you.”

In April, each member of our congregation received a letter expressing a financial shortfall for this fiscal year.  The letter explained that due to a number of factors our expenses were likely going to exceed our revenue.  This letter also made a plea for financial assistance in addressing this budgetary challenge, and our membership rose to the occasion.

It is with tremendous gratitude and joy that we can report that through acts of your generosity (gifts from your soul), the financial concerns have been alleviated.  Thank you!

As we consider the response to this letter, it is important to know that the generous support was not from just a few people — we had 40 gifts and 13 increases in dues.  These numbers are significant.  They demonstrate that the health and future of a community is a collective endeavor.

Our sages taught, “Kol Yisrael Arevim Zeh Ba’Zeh – The entire community of Israel is responsible for one another.”  This statement stresses the idea that Jews in general and our congregational family in particular share a common destiny, and we need each other to achieve it. Your responses to the pleas of our community are a profound demonstration of this long standing Jewish value.

Indeed, whenever we gather to worship, celebrate, learn, mourn and serve, we take these ancient words to heart.  We are all in this together.  We are all responsible for our collective destiny.  We share a responsibility to the youngest through the oldest members of our community, and like a big family, we seek to provide for the present as we ensure stability for the future.  For all this and so much more, “Thank you for your generosity.”