Help me help you!
“Help me help you.” Sports agent Jerry Maguire, played by Tom Cruise in the movie of the same title, offers these words as a plea to his sole client as Jerry strives to secure him a lucrative contract.
Jerry represents disgruntled wide receiver Rod Tidwell (played by Cuba Gooding Jr.) to the best of his abilities; his success would mean a big payday for the football player and a sizable cut for the agent, but Rod isn’t making it easy. Jerry needs Rod to play the game with a better attitude—for the fans and the media—in order to seal the deal. “Help me help you,” Jerry pleads in the face of a stiff-knecked and prideful Rod.
As your shaliach, or agent, this coming high holiday season, I want to represent you as best I can. And I want to see you bring your best. I want your compensation to be your name signed and sealed for a lucrative reward. Of course there is something in it for me as well. But in order for us both to get what we want and deserve, I need you to help me. Help me help you!
It’s not easy for rabbis, year after year, to ascertain what their constituents want and need from them on the few days they have the chance to speak to a large portion of the congregation. There are plenty of self-righteous voices out there telling us what we should be speaking about and what we should be saying on those matters! But they don’t know us; and they don’t know you. Your particulars aren’t even necessarily the same as those of the others on your congregational team whom I represent. Moreover, given the fact that this world is placing so many stumbling blocks in our path, it’s nearly impossible for me to know which of those blocks you find the most difficult to evade.
It’s game on. The horn sounded with the shrill of the opening shofar blasts this morning. We are four weeks away from the opening of the signing period, and I want to do right by you. I can help you best to navigate this path if you tell me what it is that you need to hear from me. Please note: I’m not asking what you think others need to hear; I’m asking what topics you need to hear your rabbi—as your representative and representative of our tradition—address for you and your betterment in the new year.
Email me at Rabbi.scheff@theojc.org with up to 3 questions or ideas about which you would like to hear what our Judaism offers. There are so many topics I’d love to address throughout our holy days. Help me narrow them down to your specific needs. Help me help you!
Rabbi Craig Scheff
Time to reflect
As we reach the end of another academic year, I wanted to share with you the words of Rafi Josselson, a high school senior at The Leffell School who spent the last nine weeks of his academic year interning with me here at the synagogue. As I have shared with his school administration, Rafi has surpassed all our expectations. His work ethic and product have matched that of so many of our previous rabbinic interns, many of whom were at least a decade older in years and in academic pursuit. We have learned from Rafi. His youth was no impediment to his wisdom, his charm and his contributions. I am happy to be re-starting this blog after a year’s hiatus with Rafi’s words, and I look forward to welcoming Rabbi Claire Shoyer as a contributor. Thank you, Rafi. We wish you the very best in all your pursuits!
Dear OJC,
Thank you all for allowing me to serve as your synagogue intern this spring. It’s been one of the best experiences of my life. I’ve grown professionally and personally throughout this experience. This wasn’t a difficult transition. Since this is my synagogue, I was already heavily involved. And so, unlike my peers who interned for six weeks, I have been interning for about nine weeks.
Like you, I am a congregant. But, for these nine weeks, I stepped “behind the curtain” to see the work that happens behind the scenes. Our hours are inconsistent. I have had nights when I am working until 9 or 10:30. There are days when I have gone into the city, to a funeral, or to someone’s house to sit shiva with them. My internship wasn’t just about doing stuff; most of my time was spent showing up.
I focused a tremendous amount of my time refining my leyning and oration skills. I have delivered four sermons to the congregation. I am proud of each one of them, but I have worked hard to get better at my delivery, pacing, and length. I hope you’ve noticed my growth in that area. I’ve also worked tirelessly on improving my leyning. I have read Torah or Haftarah almost every Shabbat, and I pushed myself to learn something new: Megillat Ruth.
I had the opportunity to interact with our youth through Kulanu. Being a day school student, my interaction with Kulanu in the past was limited. During this internship, I was very involved with our B’nai Yisrael (3rd-5th Grade) class. The work and energy that is expended for our children’s education is magical. It was a pleasure to work alongside Rabbi Kniaz in her final weeks with our Kulanu students. My experience was enhanced by our teachers, our Kulanu Assistant Ms. Maudeena Jones, and our students, all of whom are critical parts of the educational experience. I was so proud of our B’nai Yisrael students when, for their final project, they compiled a new book of the Tanakh to transmit to future generations. They joyously presented it to Rabbi Kniaz at their moving-up ceremony.
I’ve also noticed, as many of you have, that we as a synagogue are moving into a new stage. Even though she technically starts in July, I can assure you that Rabbi Shoyer and the rest of the OJC team are already busy planning engaging programming for next year. I also got to attend her JTS ordination. Rabbi Shoyer has worked so hard to get to this moment. She has spent five years in rabbinical school, including hundreds of hours in internships. But, as I have heard from so many rabbis before, you don’t learn how to be a rabbi until you are a rabbi. Therefore, as Rabbi Shoyer continues to grow and learn, I ask you: please give her time and space to grow into the rabbi she is meant to be.
Speaking of rabbis’ experiences, throughout the internship, I interviewed 14 rabbis to get a sense of their experiences, careers, and reflections on the title of “Rabbi”. I interviewed both Rabbi Scheff and Rabbi Drill for this project, and I interviewed two of our previous Rabbinic Interns, Rabbi Jesse Nagelberg and Rabbi Ben Varon. These people are the gold standard of what rabbis should be: caring, empathetic, dedicated, and involved. I am glad I had the chance to talk to them, and the OJC is lucky to have been led by them. You can read my takeaways from my interview project here.
To conclude, I want to share why I did this internship. First, I wanted to gain an understanding of the field of rabbinic work. But secondly, I wanted to give back to you, the OJC, which I believe is one of the most magical places on Earth. We aren’t perfect. And we have a lot more ahead of us. But I am confident that, together, we’ll keep OJC a welcoming, safe, and inclusive home for everybody.
Rafi
A mother’s prayer
Perhaps it was the timing of coming together in these post-October 7 days.
Perhaps it was an escape from all the protests that seem to want to besmirch or obliterate our Jewish identities.
Perhaps it was the complicated vibe of Yom Hazikaron (Israel’s memorial day) and Yom Ha’atzmaut (Israel’s independence day) juxtapositioned back to back, and our desire to connect to that vibe from afar.
Perhaps it was that so many of us were without our mothers, either because of distance or loss, or without children.
Perhaps it was because a young Jewish mother was sitting in front of us on this Mother’s Day morning, having left three of her children overseas, singing to her husband who sat across from her and to us, needing to open her heart and share her music about parents and children and wanting to feel safe in a place she calls home and loving the land and all its problems and wanting no war and wanting her husband to return safely from reserves and believing in peace and needing to spread word about the power of love.
Whatever the reason, what started out in concept as an opportunity to acknowledge Israel’s two days of remembrance and gratitude during this uniquely complicated time was instantaneously transformed into a holy moment. We could not have anticipated the flood of emotion, the sense of hearts opening in our midst, the tear-streaked and smiling faces from the moment Yoni and Nina (“Yonina”) began to sing Al Kol Eleh (“For all these things, watch over me my good Lord, for the honey and the thorn, for the bitter and the sweet”). What might have been a forty-five minute singalong of Israel songs became a timeless ritual of holding our collective breath, inhaling deeply with a sense of wonder, awe and reverence for it all, and then exhaling the exhaustion, anxiety and sadness, only to repeat the exercise with each song.
Yoni and Nina came to us with Rabbi Hersh’s urging early in the spring of 2020. They performed via Zoom monthly on Friday morning to help us connect heading into Shabbat in a time when we could not yet gather physically. Their music, for many of us, has continued to feed us, uplift us, connect us. While we felt this personal appearance was a homecoming for them of sorts, I know they felt the conflict of being away from their one home, their parents, and their children.
For ninety perfect minutes, with the help of their music, lyrics and heartfelt stories, we ascended together out of the time and space that restricts us. We were all home with one another, all connected to our mothers and fathers, all feeling the love we give away coming back to us, all absorbing the resilience and hope shared by these two loving artists.
In their song Melaketet kochavim (“collecting stars”), Nina and Yoni sing to each other from afar, a mother caring for children and home, a father fighting a war, both hoping to reunite safely and soon, holding onto hope that their dreams will soon be realized:
So now I am gathering all of my strength
of kindness, and of faith
that good days are yet to come
that the songs of joy will return to us
and I hug the children tightly
to protect from the storms outside
and in all the craziness
under black skies
I gather stars
Inhale. Read the words and hear the song. Exhale. Repeat.
Happy 76th birthday, Israel. May this year be better than the last, one in which your children’s dreams come true, one in which your hope is realized.
Rabbi Craig Scheff
Reflections on “Walking as Witnesses”
The following is not the typical blog post from the OJC rabbis. It is a daily recap of the OJC-Poland 2024 experience that ended yesterday. It is meant for those who wanted to follow our experiences without resorting to Facebook. It is a bit long, but hopefully you will find it worthwhile reading! Please note, however, that to truly appreciate the emotional arc of our experiences, you really should read to the end….
OJC-Poland 2024: “Walking as Wintesses”
Day One
On the eve of arrival in Poland, leading a group of 32 (mostly from our synagogue community) to Krakow, Majdanek, Lublin and Warsaw, I wrestle with these thoughts:
How do we bear witness and process the inhumanity that was visited upon us? And how do we avoid permitting this victimization to be the primary motivator of our Jewish identification?
How can we make room for empathy towards those who were bystanders (sometimes innocent and sometimes willing), while also holding accountable those who actively participated in our suffering? What can we learn from those who stood up righteously in our defense or in defense of their own humanity?
How do we appreciate Jewish physical and spiritual resistance in spite of Jewish suffering?
How can Poland remain both home and graveyard?
How do we understand Jewish life in Poland today? What is its meaning and mission?
And how does all our wrestling translate into a productive and empowering way to confront our current circumstances as American Jews?
Though this is my third time leading this trip, I anticipate an emotional, challenging and hopefully meaningful week ahead with what seems to be a very special group of people.
Day Two
Our group convened this afternoon to begin our tour of Krakow. After I offered an intention for the days ahead, we set off for the Jewish quarter in Kazimierz.
Our tour guide walked us through the bustling city and into the heart of Jewish life here, home to the world’s largest annual Jewish festival. We visited the Altshul, the Rema Synagogue and Cemetery, and the Temple Synagogue, tracing the history of a Jewish presence dating back to the 15th century.
Our tour ended at JCC Krakow, where we dined and met with CEO Jonathan Ornstein, who shared with us his perspective on the phenomenon of a growing Jewish presence in what many considered a Jewish graveyard. The work that is being done for those discovering Jewish roots is remarkable, and the JCC has become a safe haven and support center for Ukrainian refugees.
We asked ourselves the question earlier today, “why are we here”? After our first experiences in Krakow, we can answer that we are here to witness the resilience of the Jewish people.
Day Three
An early start on a warm and sunny day took us through the lush Polish countryside, out of Krakow and to Auschwitz and Birkenau. As we approached the site of the slaughter of 1.1 million Jews, I could sense the ghosts of the dead walking through the shadows of the dense woods, beckoning us to come bear witness.
Touring the exhibition halls gave us the history of the site’s construction and the story of how Jewish lives were routed to this final destination for so many. More impactful, however, was seeing the belongings of individuals who were given hope that they were heading from a ghetto to somewhere else — a suitcase, a pot. The piles of eyeglasses, prosthetic limbs and hair told us the unimaginable end that was met instead.
We left Birkenau and stopped at the remaining synagogue of the city of Oswiecim (Oswiecim Synagogue), where we had the opportunity to reflect on our personal reactions to the experience. We felt speechless, overwhelmed, sad, angry, scared, determined, resilient, strong, hopeful, all of the above and more. We felt the cognitive dissonance of walking in the sun on a beautiful day along the path that led to death for so many; of the magnificent weather for a space we associate with the color grey; of the bustling life going on all around, and even within, a torture chamber.
We will continue to let the images settle in our brains and the feelings come to rest in our hearts. It’s time to literally and figuratively wash off the dust as we prepare for Shabbat. This evening we will welcome the Sabbath queen as royalty ourselves. We are here, and we are alive. This Shabbat we make our presence known to God, to one another, and to all the ghosts relying on us to continue their legacies.
Day Four
Krakow is a magnificent city. It avoided destruction during multiple wars, in part because the Poles were quick to retreat in an effort to spare their crown jewel, in part because aggressors made it their center of operations. From castles to churches, we were impressed by the scale, opulence and history reflected by its layers of architectural beauty. Crowded and vibrant public squares and outdoor cafes showed us a free and happy society.
So what does it say about Jewish life in Poland if I tell you we had a perfect Shabbat in Krakow, from sundown to Saturday night? A space of our own in our gracious and inviting boutique hotel, a warm and uplifting Kabbalat Shabbat, and a sumptuous kosher dinner prepared by Chef Alon; morning Shabbat tefillah at the Rema Synagogue with locals and visitors, accompanied by melodies both familiar and new (giving me a couple of ideas to bring home!), where I received an aliyah (thanks David Simkins!) and couldn’t help but tear up thinking about what my grandfather z”l would say; a late morning walking tour to the Old Town; an afternoon walk to the site of the Jewish Ghetto and Schindler’s factory; and, of course, Havdalah.
Out of the depths of Friday’s experience at Auschwitz we rose up to feel our souls soar (in stark contrast to our sore soles!), and this morning we once again descend into the pit that was Majdanek.
May we rise once again, Am Yisrael chai.
Day Five
An early departure from Krakow for the long ride to Majdanek was not a given. Despite the inconvenience and the apprehension about committing to experiencing a camp that could be operational in minutes, we knew we had made the right decision immediately upon our arrival.
Simply put, every Jew must see what we saw. It was a comfort to see multiple “March of the Living” groups of teens walking by us, sitting in reflection. On this eve of Yom Hashoah, they are learning the lesson we must all learn: Our Jewish identities and way of life are what has given us the resilience to survive, live and build lives. Our enduring the worst atrocities humans could inflict upon others only proved that we the Jewish People are the source of hope for all humanity.
Sitting in the Yeshiva of Chochmei Lublin, we felt the power that centuries of learning and prioritization of teaching and living Jewishly has brought to our ancestors and continues to provide for our children.
And despite terrible traffic that delayed our arrival in Warsaw by 2 hours, we still managed to hold our own Yom Hashoah commemoration, reflecting on what it means to us in the wake of this experience to be “keepers of the flame”.
Tonight, through the miracle of technology, I was able to share my reflections from this trip on the heroism of my own grandparents, Israel and Sonia Neiman z”l, to see generations representing the survivors of their own families, and to hear Amy Edelstein share her own story. I hope the next 24 hours will provide each of us the opportunity to reflect on what “never forget” means to us in light of where we find ourselves today.
Day Six
Too many people are unaware that the full name of Holocaust Remembrance Day is actually Yom Hashoah v’Hagevurah, meaning the day of remembering the destruction and the heroism.
On this Yom Hashoah, we find ourselves in Warsaw, the place that inspired the full name of the commemoration. The Warsaw Ghetto was obviously a place of terrible suffering as a result of inhumane treatment and living conditions. But while the Nazis tried to strip the Jews of their humanity and ultimately set about liquidating the ghetto, its residents fought until the end. After unexpectedly costing the Nazis soldiers’ lives, resources and time, the persistent and heroic Jews ultimately took their own lives in the face of an overwhelming Nazi military response.
There are few remains of the actual physical ghetto or of the WWII city, given that 85 percent of Warsaw was reduced to rubble. But there are reminders everywhere of Jewish presence, persistence and rebirth, and of the Jewish history that is being rediscovered and examined by so many Polish citizens. From public memorials (plaques, monuments, structures like the deportation platform) to the new Polin Museum, it’s hard to be in Warsaw and not be reminded of the city’s Jewish heritage.
Standing in the Nozyk Synagogue, the only synagogue that remains in Warsaw today, we reflected on the connection between the heroism shown in Warsaw by the likes of Mordechai Anielewicz and the image of the “new Jews” who fought for the establishment of the State of Israel. Our voices echoed in the sanctuary as we sang a prayer for the hostages on this Day 213 of their Gazan captivity, the prayer for the State of Israel, and Am Yisrael Chai.
The Warsaw Jewish cemetery is history told in stone. Parts of the cemetery have been restored with monuments erected symbolically to pay homage to the many greats of Warsaw’s Jewish past. But as Nancy and I went in search of the burial place of our daughter-in-law’s relative who was buried here in 1934, we found ourselves in the deep, dark recesses of an abandoned graveyard with toppled and broken stones, one plot indistinguishable from the next. I felt the shadows closing in on us, and I was reminded of the brutality Jews experienced in a place they once called home.
A day to remember the heroism. A day to remember the destruction. Never again. Never again.
Day Seven
It’s honestly hard to appreciate how we got here without experiencing it for oneself. Considering this emotional roller coaster of a ride we’ve been on and where it started, most of us (if not all) could not have imagined finishing this journey where we did.
Today we took in a presentation from the Polin Museum about the “righteous gentiles” who risked and even gave their own lives protecting Jews. We heard an honest assessment of non-Jewish attitudes towards the Jewish past, and of the ways in which “cultural” antisemitism manifests itself in Polish society.
Today we visited the Jewish Historical Institute, where we saw the written testimonies preserved by “Oyneg Shabbos”, the underground archivists of the Warsaw Ghetto. Their heroic efforts of spiritual resistance have preserved legacies and eyewitness testimonies for Polish and Jewish students of the past.
Today we visited the beautiful Warsaw Zoo, where Jan and Antonina Zabinski hid Jews whom they helped escape from the Warsaw Ghetto, some for days and some for years. We were treated to a piano concert of Chopin and Offenbach, the music Antonina played to signal to the Jews in her basement whether they could emerge from hiding, fall into silence, or head for tunnel that led to the cages beneath the zoo.
We finished our day at the JCC Warszawa, where we dined and learned from CEO Patrycja Dolowy and JDC Entwine fellow Sam Kapner about the continuing revival of Jewish life in Warsaw.
Despite the horrors of the past to which we bore witness, despite the reality that our feet walked above the ruins of Jewish homes, and despite our desire to claim and brandish our victimization against the world, there is a fragrant flowering of Jewish life in Poland. It is youthful, energetic, embracing, and proud. It is unencumbered by the past. It is recognized, appreciated, and even celebrated by non-Jewish Poles.
With great curiosity and a desire for answers, Jewish life is being rediscovered by those with Jewish roots; revealed by those who hid their Jewish identities; explored by those who have recognized that Judaism comprised a substantial piece of Polish history and culture; and remembered by those who don’t want to be condemned to repeat the past. In a Poland that continues to redefine and rebuild itself since its independence from Soviet rule, Warsaw is a safe place to openly identify and practice as a Jew.
Did I just say that?
We heard it from young, proud voices. We heard it from the people who are living it. Who are we to diminish their Jewish enthusiasm, spirit or determination in any way?
As we concluded our night and our Poland experience singing our anthem “Vehi sh’amdah,” the words came out feeling quite different than when we first sang them. May that which has sustained us, despite the enemies in every generation who have sought our destruction, continue enabling us to flourish along with God’s help.
Seven days to home
I “left home” almost 3 months ago.
I can count on my 2 hands the number of days I’ve slept in my own bed since December 1, when I started my sabbatical. Family guest rooms, hotel rooms and ship cabins are where I’ve laid my head to pillow. Remarkably, I’ve slept fairly well!
I do not take for granted the multiple blessings I enjoy in the luxury of this experience: a long-standing and mutually beneficial relationship with a synagogue; a community that cares for the physical and mental wellbeing of its clergy; the financial resources and good health to enjoy a series of getaways and revitalizing experiences; colleagues and laypeople who are able to support our shul in my absence; a family that can accommodate my needs.
Perhaps the greatest blessing of all is the feeling I have now, with seven days to go, the feeling of looking forward to coming home.
In these past weeks, I’ve experienced cultures and vistas very different from my own surroundings. I’ve explored and deepened family relationships. I’ve even imposed upon myself periods of solitude in my efforts to understand better my relationships with myself, others and God.
As I reach the end of this life detour, I feel my chosen paths have been validated and reaffirmed. The values and lessons I’ve tried to live by and teach have guided me on a fulfilling and meaningful life journey. Along the way, I’ve been blessed to connect with so many people who have chosen to share the journey with me. And best of all, I am reminded that all roads lead back to community: to a shared sense of responsibility, purpose and destiny.
And I didn’t even have to stop for directions!
I’m ready and excited to continue our shared work. May we pave the way to a life of learning, service and kindness together.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Craig Scheff
Riding the rush to the future
This Friday I begin a three month sabbatical. For those unaware, my professional partner Rabbi Paula Drill and I each have this opportunity for renewal every four years, and we are grateful to our congregation’s leadership and community for recognizing the mutual benefits of the sabbatical to us and to the synagogue. My last sabbatical began in December 2019 and ended in March 2020. I “re-entered” our synagogue’s life just as the COVID-19 pandemic made its presence felt in the community.
Since then, the challenges we have faced as a congregation have been unlike anything we had ever experienced, and unlike anything I ever imagined I would encounter in my rabbinate. The unpredictable and unprecedented challenges often left our congregation and our rabbinates in a reactive mode. The triage approach to pastoring to the community had us on our heels and running on adrenaline, often feeling spent after the rush. Despite the many challenges, our congregation has survived and thrived, revealing untapped strengths and unveiling creative modes of connection. In many ways, we are a stronger community than we were four years ago.
In the early 2000’s, mental health experts identified phases of individual and collective emotional response to disaster, and our individual responses to the pandemic fit the framework well. They labeled and described several of these phases as follows:
- The “Heroics” phase, characterized by adrenaline-induced rescue behavior; high activity; low productivity; a greater sense of altruism.
- The “Disillusionment” phase, where stress and fatigue take their toll; optimism turns into discouragement, resentment, frustration and anger; the larger community returns to business as usual.
- The “Reconstruction” phase, a time of individuals and communities beginning to assume responsibility for rebuilding their lives and adjusting to new circumstances; the recognition of growth and opportunity.
As I think back over the last four years, I believe we defied the suggested model in one very significant way. We largely avoided the “Disillusionment” phase by initiating a strategic planning process while still in our “Heroic” phase and the “Honeymoon” phase of good will that followed. We had enough vision and faith to look beyond our reactive mode and to look to the future proactively. Our “Inventory” phase was a time of taking stock and already planning for the reinvention of our congregation. Seeing the very best of our community and its individuals in action, and in ways that were so aligned with our mission and values, we knew that our core strengths would carry us beyond the pandemic and into the future.
This year, the busy holiday season ended with the tragic and traumatic events of October 7, the hostage ordeal and the days of war that would follow. Our typically quiet month of Cheshvan was suddenly a period that demanded heroics – mobilization, giving, energy, programming. We have responded as I knew we would, with passion, love and generosity. And once again, we are capitalizing on our core strengths and our best resources (you!) to look past this moment, to plan for the future, beyond my sabbatical and even beyond Rabbi Drill’s retirement.
I have no crystal ball. I can’t say what lies ahead for Israel and the Palestinians, and I can’t tell you what our synagogue will look like four years from now (when I’ll be preparing for my next sabbatical!). I can say with certainty, however, that we will still be here, doing what we do best, learning, growing, responding and looking to the future with vision, confidence and hope.
Believe it or not, I miss you already.
Rabbi Craig Scheff
Replenishing the well
This past Shabbat, Day 8 of the “October 7” War, our synagogue rabbis presided over a ritual marking the transition of a girl to adulthood in the eyes of the community. On Sunday morning, Day 9, we were present for twin girls experiencing the same rite of passage. On Sunday afternoon, I officiated at the naming of a baby girl, linking her to the legacy of her paternal grandfather (a close personal friend who died at a young age) and her maternal great-grandfather.
Each of these moments was filled with love and infused with meaning. Each of these rites was held in the embrace of family, friends and community. Each of these children gave honor to their past and held out promise for our shared future. Each of these families prayed and planned for the day to arrive when their respective occasions could be shared.
And each of these events was touched and somewhat shaped by events happening on the other side of the ocean. Parents reached out to their rabbis to inquire on a personal level about the rabbis’ wellbeing and emotional preparedness. They asked whether a postponement might be warranted. They wanted to know that, if the simcha were to take place, it would be framed appropriately in light of tragedy hanging like a cloud over our heads.
The Talmud (Ketubot 17a) teaches that a funeral procession gives way to a wedding procession. In other words, we prioritize the celebration of life over death. The teaching may feel harsh or insensitive to some, especially considering the emphasis we place on caring for mourners. (As an aside, caring for mourners is in fact caring for the needs of the living, as distinguished from the funeral procession itself, which is about the caring for the dead.) But the lesson is one that we need right now.
Caught inside the looping 24-hour newsfeed, glued to images and reports of the dead and the missing, worrying about our family and friends, our well of resilience is being depleted further from hour to hour. We need to exercise the kind of self-care that will replenish that well, so that we can confront and navigate the challenges yet to come. The gift of joy, of celebrating life, is the best form of self-care we can give ourselves.
Like a bridal procession, the celebration of life’s moments of transition fills us with optimism, with a reason to look to the future with hope. The times to be treasured are moments that we are not promised or guaranteed; they are not to be postponed, lest intervening events preclude their being rescheduled. And there’s no guarantee we will be there to enjoy them the next time around.
Seize the moment to celebrate when it presents itself. Join us on November 29 (the date of our rescheduled fall gala, exactly 60 years since the day our building was dedicated!) to celebrate the synagogue and to help us replenish our own communal well of resilience.
Am Yisrael chai, so let’s be sure to celebrate life when we can.
Rabbi Craig Scheff
The year of the unicorn (aka “Succeeding successfully”)
When we set out to create a job description for the search for our new rabbi, someone (it may have been our creative president Matt Schiering) suggested that we might as well be looking to replace a unicorn.
I certainly think quite highly of Rabbi Paula Drill, and I am beyond grateful for the partnership we have shared and the many ways in which having her as a co-rabbi has improved my life professionally and personally. But a unicorn?
As we follow Moses through the final year of his tenure leading the Israelites, we are reminded that he is irreplaceable. “There never arose another prophet like Moses….” Joshua is poised to succeed Moses, but not to replace him. Joshua will be a different leader for a different time with a different mission.
All this talk about Moses, Rabbi Drill and unicorns has left me reflecting on the origin story of Rabbi Drill‘s relationship with our community. We weren’t looking for a unicorn, and we didn’t hire one. We hired someone whom we knew could build relationships in the context of our Jewish tradition. There were challenges, doubts and growing pains as we introduced a new leader to our community. Personally, my guiding principle was that Rabbi Drill’s success would be my success. I believed my burden would be lighter, my life would have greater balance, and her achievements would add to the reputation of the OJC community as a place with which people wanted to connect. Our leadership understood that her success connecting, building relationships and offering more pathways into community would benefit our entire community and help us grow. It mattered not that Rabbi Drill started out only coming to OJC one Shabbat each month; it mattered that she was willing to connect with people on their time about their lives and their searches for meaning. Our faith was rewarded!
The partnership model that Rabbi Drill and I promoted from her earliest years here required a true cultural shift away from a hierarchical structure of leadership. We advocated to avoid the “assistant rabbi” title, ultimately establishing a co-rabbi relationship. We were inspired by the Jewish model of learning in partnership (“chavruta”), and by the pairs of rabbinic sages who challenged each other to grow, to refine their knowledge, and to consider alternate perspectives. I believe our synagogue became a kinder, more thoughtful place because of the partnership and team approach that we modeled.
For our succession plan to be successful, we need to remember what has made us successful as a community to date. We need to remember how Rabbi Drill’s tenure became the success it was. It should come as no surprise that the survey we recently sent to the congregation revealed that the rabbinic role most important to our community, by a wide margin, is for the rabbi to share a personal connection with us. We want to be seen, heard, understood and appreciated by someone who can help us forge our own connection with community, tradition and God.
If it takes a unicorn to fill that need, then let the search for the next unicorn begin. If anyone can find one, it’s us!
Rabbi Craig Scheff
You had to be there
A tip of my Red Sox cap to Yankees’ pitcher Domingo German, who threw a perfect game last night (retiring 27 Oakland batters without issuing a walk or giving up a hit). Baseball is the one sport where on any given night something can happen that you as a fan may have never seen before. At the beginning of every major-league game, an average pitcher facing a lineup of average hitters has a .000983 percent chance of pitching a perfect game. This perfect game was only the 24th in the history of the sport!
The only way to truly appreciate such a feat is to be present to it in the moment. It’s simply not the same on replay. Whether you are a fan of the team or not, you hang on every pitch over the last 12 outs of the game to see something that few have ever achieved. A friend texted me earlier today to tell me that he and his son had turned the game off after the first inning last night to go to bed — something they never do — in preparation for an early morning flight. I understand the terrible disappointment they are feeling today.
A few weeks ago, something poignant happened during services that moved our president Matt Schiering to note in his announcements that we never know what we might miss if we are not in synagogue on any given day. There are so many Shabbat mornings when I walk out of the building after the service thinking the very same thing to myself. You simply never know what you are going to be a part of, and if you aren’t here, you never know what you’re going to miss.
It might be as simple as a 6 year-old girl making her way across the aisle to sit with an unrelated 60 year-old woman. It may be a 95 year-old man standing in front of the Torah to give thanks for another birthday. It may be a person who is deaf reading from the Torah in front of the congregation for the very first time. It may be the naming of a baby belonging to a family you’ve never met, or a 50 year-old person returning to the synagogue where they grew up for the first time in 35 years.
The synagogue experience is not necessarily about prayer. Or mourning, or music, or meditation or memory. Or celebration, or causes or community. Or food or friendship. Or obligation. Or study. Or a heartfelt moment of vulnerability. The synagogue experience may be about any one of these things, about all of these things, or about something else entirely.
Only you can conclude what the synagogue experience is for you. To understand the meaning of it for yourself, you have to be there. If you sleep late, check out early, or pass entirely, know you might be missing something special, something you will probably never experience at a ballpark or anywhere other than the synagogue.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Craig Scheff
The Lead Story
Earlier this year, a chaver (friend) of our synagogue informed the rabbis that he was ending his official affiliation with our synagogue. The reason he offered was that, despite loving so many things about the synagogue and its clergy, he wanted a less “activist” (his word) synagogue for his family. I’ve always advocated that people should find houses of worship and communities where they would be motivated to connect, to attend, and to add meaning to their lives. I found it particularly sad that, especially in this day and age, one would seek a faith community that would not “actively” pursue its stated mission and the values of our tradition.
Our sage Hillel famously taught (about two thousand years ago and in the face of immense social and political upheaval): “If am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”
As participants in Jewish community, we have all likely felt at one time or another that we must be our own best advocates, because others so rarely advocate for us. And, naturally, our own preservation and security must come first if we are to be any good to ourselves or anyone else.
Hillel’s teaching reflects his understanding that our values and way of life must also serve the betterment of our society in general and of all humanity. That is the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophetic call that we must be a “light unto the nations.” That is our understanding of the responsibility that comes along with the “chosen-ness” to be a “kingdom of priests,” ministering to the needs of God and the rest of the world.
What has become equally apparent is that in our times there are fewer and fewer institutions that are willing to lead and leaders who are willing to recognize or accept the influence they may have beyond their own walls. Our communities are sorely lacking the leadership that models the values we espouse. As a faith-based institution with a sustained record of dedication to and service in the community, we are uniquely placed to lead. As leaders of a faith-based community with a sizeable constituency, a stable presence, a fair amount of goodwill with our neighbors, and a track record for partnering well with others, your rabbis see it as their duty to speak to those issues that affect the public welfare and to embrace the value that we must protect the image of God reflected in every individual. As leaders of a faith community, Rabbi Drill, Rabbi Hersh and I see it as our duty to actively pursue the values that our tradition dictates we prioritize.
This “activism” does not come at the expense of our responsibilities to offer personal connections to God, to our synagogue or to each other. Rather, it offers our community’s constituents the opportunity to “walk the talk,” to put into practice the potentially transformative effects of engaging in learning, prayer and community building.
We are called to battle antisemitism in the public arena. We are equally called to protect the vulnerable; to stand as partners with the leaders of the LGBTQ+ community; to advocate for women’s reproductive rights; to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked and to welcome the stranger. And pikuach nefesh, saving lives, supersedes them all.
Last week, Rabbi Drill and I attended an interfaith conference sponsored by UJA Federation of New York and the JCRC (Jewish Community Relations Council) of New York entitled “Facing the Gun Violence Epidemic: the Voices of Faith and Community.“ Reverend Charles Galbreath of Brooklyn urged us to heed the words of Zachariah, to imagine a world where children can play on city streets without fear and to work as faith leaders towards that vision. Michael Dowling, CEO of Northwell Health, urged us to see our responsibility as faith leaders as extending beyond our own churches and synagogues. Our esteemed panelists coming from a range of disciplines put before us the reality that the solution to ending gun violence lies beyond restricting access to automatic weapons. The solution lies in addressing many systemic issues ranging well beyond our mental health systems and the administration of law enforcement. The overriding message of the conference was that, beyond the politicization of these and other ills, each one of us has a role to play in ensuring the safety–the lives–of others. That role needs to be taught, informed and modeled by our houses of worship.
Where do we start? With ourselves and our priorities. Is that where it ends? No, we must extend our caring to addressing the needs of others. When do we start? If you are reading this, you already have.
Here is a link to the all resources that we received last week, including an action guide, should you want to take the next step. Lead on.
Rabbi Craig Scheff
Two Rabbis, One Voice, Three Opinions 
Recent Comments