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September 24, 2014

Rosh Hashanah message September 2014

Kids who aren’t afraid of failing take the risks that change the world. 

Why? Because optimism and failure are the necessary and inextricable foundation upon which creative confidence flourishes. You have to believe in a better world—desperately and urgently—to take the risks and embrace the failures inherent in working towards this ideal. 

At our school, we engender optimism. Our program enables students to experience the best version of our society. We are a community of learners that celebrates each others’ successes as our own. Our students perceive the world as supportive and encouraging. They perceive learning—whether in or out of the classroom—as joyful and relevant. Many have asked me if we’re sheltering our students; they ask if this reassuring, constructive environment reflects the “real world”. My answer? It reflects what the world could be, especially if our students come to expect it. And that is what the High Holidays are all about. 

Consider, for a moment, the order of the fall holidays. In the month leading up to Rosh Hashanah we practice teshuvah, the hard work of returning to our true selves, to the selves we want to be. It’s self-reflection followed by celebration.

But why do we experience the joy of Rosh Hashanah before the exertion of Yom Kippur? It might seem odd that after the festivity of our New Year—so full of hope and possibility—we plunge into the intensity of Yom Kippur. But we have to experience the potential and promise of the New Year in order to be ready for Yom Kippur, when the process of teshuvah culminates, and we access the depths of our soul and become ready to once again face uncertainty. 

The same is true for education: self-reflection is followed by optimism; optimism equips children with the permission to fail; failing leads to self-reflection. The cycle continues and creative confidence is built. Students must be raised in an environment that reflects the world as it could be in order feel compelled and courageous enough to problem solve the ways the world falls short of this ideal. Each student needs to know that four wrong solutions to a challenge only means that she is closer to the innovation that could produce radical change.  

Skeptical about the radical change part? Try to suspend your disbelief. You see, what we teach students actually goes one step beyond creative confidence. It goes beyond the students’ belief in their ability to create and their conviction to persevere. Yes, it is urgent optimism, yes it is relentless risk-taking, but it is also—most importantly—the unshakable belief that they have a unique and irreplaceable role to play in tikkun olam, in mending or perfecting our world. Self-reflection is followed by optimism; optimism equips children with the permission to fail; failing leads to self-reflection; creative confidence is built and each time the world is a bit better for it. 

May it be a year in which each of our children comes to understand their infinite value and unique capacity. May we work together to develop students’ minds, hearts, and spirits so that they can—now and in the future—determine and actuate their particular, meaningful contributions to the narrative of the Jewish people and all humanity.

Shanah Tovah. 

Sarah Shulkind, Ed.D.

Head of School, Sinai Akiba Academy

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The Synagogue Revolution: A Musical!

Rabbi Terlinchamp details a vision for the future of synagogues… and it's a fun musical!!

MUSIC & VIDEO BY:

Aaron Bilgrad

(310) 429-9905

abilgrad@gmail.com

The Blank Press

TheBlankPress.com

TEMPLE SHOLOM CINCINNATI

Rabbi@TempleSholom.net

(513) 791-1330

TempleSholom.net

 

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Meditation on a Tallis

Sitting here, small, next to you in your dark suit,

so handsome, so content.

Here at synagogue,

secure, with peace in your heart.

 

The exuberance with which you davin,

the satisfaction with which you hold my hand.

It feels so little inside yours—almost lost.

How young I am, how proud I am of my handsome father.

 

You sit and sing the melodies.

I listen and follow.

I lose my place.

You quickly point it out.

Leaning against the rough wool of your jacket

I know yours is a strength I can rely on.

 

But when the seat can no longer hold me,

and the prayers seem unending.

When the rabbi's words are too obscure

for my child’s mind,

 

          I reach for your tallis.

 

I find patience in each thread,

and weave the melodies into them.

Journeying to sacred places on each strand,

my fingers braid the tassels.

Crisscrossing them into paths 

that carry me across ancient desert sands.

They bring a quiet contentment,

moments of gentle peace between us.


In 2012, I moved my father to a Memory Care facility just three blocks from my home. I would bring him to Shabbat services every Saturday morning to a conservative synagogue close by. His love of Jewish tradition had sustained him through all his life and losses. And now, synagogue was the only place where he felt most himself, most comfortable and comforted. 

My father now needed my help to wrap the Tallis around his shoulders before we entered the sanctuary. There were so few people in synagogue that our attendance was noticed and he would gratefully accept the Aliyahs offered him. But I needed to accompany him up the ramp to the Bimah, stand by his side as he read the prayers, and make sure he made his way back safely to his seat. And then came that Saturday morning when he lost his place during the reading of the weekly Torah portion. It wasn't so much that he lost his place, it was that he couldn't find it again. I watched him struggle. Finally, when I pointed it out, I heard him give a deep sigh. In that moment, we both felt the shift—our world had changed. 

This is the first Rosh Hashanah I will spend without my father. He passed on August 27, 2014. He was 98 years old. I wrote the poem to him after sitting next to him during Rosh Hashanah services in 1997. I am blessed that we were able to share this precious time together.

Anita Getzler is a photographer and the owner of  www.anitagetzlerphotography.com

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Rosner’s Torah-Talk: Parashat Ha’azinu with Rabbi Sivan Malkin Maas

Our guest this week is Rabbi Sivan Malkin Maas, Dean of the International Institute for Secular Humanistic Judaism. Rabbi Maas is the first Israeli rabbi ordained by the International Institute for Secular Humanistic Judaism in 2003. In addition to serving as Dean of Tmura-IISHJ in Jerusalem, she is also director of “The Secular Library,” publishing works on Judaism as culture, and president of “Secular Judaism,” a coalition of Secular Humanistic projects and organizations in Israel. She has previously run the Jerusalem “Nachlavia” community council and served as a Jewish Agency emissary to the Jewish Federation of Metropolitan Detroit.

This week's Torah portion – Parashat Ha'azinu (Deuteronomy 32:1-32:52) – features a prophetic poem which foretells the future of the Jewish people. Moses begins the oracular poem by calling the sky and the earth to listen to his prophetic warnings and he tells the story of how Israel has strayed from the ways of the lord, contrasting God's kindness and justness with Israel's corruption and tendency towards sin. He then stresses that following the misfortunes that will befall them due to their sinning, there will be a time when God will reconcile with his people and avenge their enemies. The Parasha concludes with God instructing Moses to climb up to mount Nevo from which he will see the Promised Land before his death. Our discussion focuses, among other things, on the optimistic and life affirming message in the final words of Moses.

If you would like to learn some more about Parashat Ha'azinu, check out our conversation with Rabbi Gidon Rothstein.

 

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