September 6, 2018

ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

Rabbi Michelle Missaghieh
Temple Israel of Hollywood

When truth is called into question by those who claim that negative news is fake news, or when politicians go on record saying that “truth isn’t truth” and that “facts are in the eye of the beholder,” it gets a little confusing. How can we reclaim truth, humbly knowing that only God’s seal is truth? When the average person is on the phone every 6 1/2  minutes, which amounts to about 28 hours a week, 112 hours a month, or 56 full days a year, and when most teens send 100 texts a day and 44 percent of us do not unplug, ever, not even during religious services, how can we reclaim face-to-face conversations? When men and women who have been marginalized or silenced for years after surviving sexual assault or rape are now speaking up, shouting #MeToo and trying to change the power dynamic in the workplace, how do we listen with open hearts and take bold steps to make necessary changes?

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ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

The Rabbis of Adat Ari El
The rabbis of Adat Ari El are covering a variety of themes and issues that respond to our community-wide discussions and that also tap into the spirit of the High Holy Days. In a time of increasingly harsh, coarse and unkind social discourse, Rabbi Jonathan Bernhard’s heartfelt sermons will highlight the need to show compassion toward oneself and others. Rabbi Jessica Yarkin will speak about the dangers of assumptions when judging others and the harm done by taking someone at face value. We are also extremely blessed to have our Rabbi Emeritus Moshe Rothblum join us for the High Holy Days and explore the essence of Yom Kippur: forgiveness.

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Rabbi Dennis Linson
Temple Judea of Laguna Hills

As a minority in America, hearing the term a shanda fur di goyim and believing it was not unusual for our Jewish community. We felt as though we were different somehow and therefore did not experience common maladies of divorce, alcoholism/addiction, abuse and suicide. These things were not spoken about in polite company, as if not speaking about them erased them from happening.

On a smaller scale, we heard “the C word” as if not naming the dread disease of cancer removed it from those we love. In recent times, we’ve come to realize that we Jews experience these issues just the same as the majority culture around us. Suicide is not something we are able to understand. Sadly, we hear about it too often today from among our families, our celebrities, our veterans. If suicide is not an epidemic, then it surely seems close. Standing at a funeral or on the High Holy Days, should I name it or should I ignore its presence? I understand the comforter at the funeral who feels it is too private and that the rabbi shouldn’t name it. Yet a family member said openly, “Just like a heart attack, it was a brain attack.”

In 5779 and beyond, we need to be humble, live with many questions and few answers, face our anger and not hide from suicide. Rather, we should increase our awareness of mental health issues.

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ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

Rabbi David Woznica
Rabbi Isaiah Zeldin Rabbinic Chair
Stephen Wise Temple

I look forward to speaking about the importance of wonder and sharing how Judaism can foster a greater sense of wonder and awe. I chose this topic because I believe experiencing life through a prism of wonder can bring a greater sense of God, gratitude, happiness, humility, excitement and equanimity. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote: “The beginning of our happiness lies in the understanding that life without wonder is not worth living. What we lack is not a will to believe but a will to wonder.”

My general approach to sermons on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is to offer thoughts in keeping with the themes of the High Holy Days (such as teshuvah, introspection, new beginnings). It is my hope that congregants will leave with a greater love of Judaism, feeling inspired to be better people, and having learned clear ideas that they can apply to their daily lives.

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ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

Rabbi Richard Camras
Shomrei Torah, West Hills

In ancient times the shofar was sounded as a call to awaken the community to a danger that lay ahead. Danger lies ahead. Many have recently sounded the shofar to the challenges that our American Diaspora community faces: shrinking demographics, less educated laity, indifference to the vision and mission of the Jewish people. With 50 percent of the Jews living in Israel, where Judaism is a natural part of everyday existence, and 50 percent living outside Israel, where Judaism is irrelevant to a greater majority than not, we may be witnessing the fulfillment of what historian Arthur Hertzberg forecast decades ago when he said the momentum of the Jewish experience in America is essentially spent.

Jerusalem Post Senior Columnist Amotz Asa-El employs the term “solid Jews,” whose Jewishness is obvious to them and active in both substance and form, and “liquid Jews,” whose Jewishness is more about identity and not practice or belief. He describes how Israelis are naturally solid Jews because they speak, read and write Hebrew, serve in the Israel Defense Forces and live by the Jewish calendar, whereas American Jews are solid only when they can provide the context, being active in the Jewish community, ensuring a strong Jewish education for themselves and their children, donating to Jewish causes and living the Jewish calendar.

How can we create an environment that instills a deeper sense of purpose and mission so that Diaspora Jews will more grow solid in their Jewish identity and practice?

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ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

Rabbi Mark Borovitz
Beit T’Shuvah

Congregation Beit T’Shuvah is a community dedicated to living a life of relevant Judaism. We are focusing on living in the both/and as opposed to binary thinking of either/or. We focus on solutions to the challenge of living well and learn from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel to never take life for granted and live in radical amazement each and every day.

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ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

Rabbi Nicole Guzik
Sinai Temple

Treacher Collins syndrome is a rare disease affecting 1 in 50,000 people. It is the syndrome associated with the main character of Auggie in the book and movie “Wonder.” The story is a constant battle in Auggie’s heart: Why do so many people have such a tough time seeing him as an ordinary human being? But what astounds me isn’t the rarity of Auggie’s craniofacial condition. It’s the frequency of the human condition to judge someone else. Think about the judgments we make about each other daily. I’ll name some, so you don’t have to:

Look at that woman. She lost so much weight. Or: Look how much she gained. Did you see their car? They must not have a care in the world. I heard about their relationship. He cheated, she cheated, so much drama. Oh, their children. You won’t believe what I heard … so I’ll tell you.

We spend so much time judging and breaking down others. Perhaps the exercise of focusing on someone else’s flaws helps mask our own — the splinters of our souls we are unwilling to see. On Rosh Hashanah, God reminds us: Only the Holy One of Being has the power to judge others, to inspect and dissect our deeds. We alone hold the power to judge and change ourselves.

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ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

Rabbi Jason Weiner
Cedars-Sinai Medical Center

A recent study on factors that predict burnout among health care workers revealed a startling insight that is profound and crucial for anyone who works in professions with high stress or burnout: The strongest protective factor against burnout is “compassion satisfaction.” This means if a person finds a sense of purpose and meaning in their work, they are less likely to burn out.

Indeed, finding meaning and living with a larger purpose in our lives is what we are called to do on Rosh Hashanah. The “judgment” aspect of the day, according to the Mishnah, is on all of humanity, not just Jews. That’s because it’s the anniversary of the creation of the world and the day God looks at each of us to see if we are living in accordance with our own unique missions. And if not, don’t worry. As the anniversary of creation, it can be a day to take advantage of this and renew our goals to become more in accordance with who we want to be and what we can contribute to the world. In this way, Rosh Hashanah can be a time of ensuring personal fulfillment, thus protecting us from fatigue and burnout.

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ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

Rabbi Gabriel Botnick
Mishkon Tephilo

This past year has been one of turmoil, leaving many of us with a feeling of loss or dismay in the face of a seemingly bleak future: families fractured almost beyond the point of reconciliation; couples questioning the morality of bringing a child into the current, uncertain climate; and people frankly terrified by what the future holds in store. In the face of such pain and brokenness, the one thing we need now more than ever is hope.

No figure conveys a sense of hope to me more than the biblical Hannah, who understood that the blessing of a child lies not in its mere physical existence but in the act of nurturing and inspiring that child, so it can lead and inspire a future generation. She knew this so well that if God were willing to bless her with a child of her own, she in turn was willing to hand that child over to the service of God at a tender age. It is imperative for us to understand that despite whatever crises we face, we are surrounded by hope, in the form of the next generation. No matter how a child finds its way into our lives, if we guide that child from a place of love and a commitment to justice, then we are paving the way toward a future we all can embrace — one that is filled with hope and promise.

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ED: The following is a excerpt from the story, “Rabbis Share Sneak Previews of Holy Days Messages” which ran in our Rosh Hashanah Sept. 7 issue. 

Rabbi Adam Kligfeld
Temple Beth Am

Amidst construction and general flux, Beth Am’s immediate past president, Susan Hetsroni, coined the term “joyful flexibility” as a prism through which to experience the vagaries of institutional life, and a banner for how to respond to them. This communal slogan deserves to be elevated to a truly sacred concept.  How, indeed, to confront the constant undulations, disappointments, pains and disgraces with a sense of balance,
dignity and integrity? It would be easy to say this is an easy concept to agree to. Would someone realistically say that a better approach to life would be this concept’s inverse? Who would actually stand behind a slogan of  “miserable rigidity” as words to live by?

Yet some circumstances demand inflexibility. The Torah does not call us to be joyfully accepting of injustice or passively serene in the presence of another’s pain. There are times when we must present as righteously rigid. But Rabbi Nahman of Bratslav reminds us that, if at all possible, even tears can be shed through a scrim of joy. He reads the word B’KhiYaH, or weeping, as a jumbled anagram for the phrase “B’shimkha Y’gilun Kol Hayom” from Psalms 89: “In Your Name they rejoice the entire day.” This goes deeper than a Pollyanna stance, holding yourself with unearned ease. But rather, it is an invitation to be open to this year to the very changes you rue. To the stumbling blocks that are inevitable. To the notion of flux as norm. To be empathic to others’ weeping, but also to smile through your own tears.

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