Rosh Hashanah 5768

The meaning of Kehillah -- Community

 

Eleven days ago I returned from my annual dance camp vacation.

This camp that I participate in each end-of-summer is a Kehillah Kedoshah – a sacred, intimate community.

One thing that contributes to that community’s integrity is the fact that the registration fee for camp is based on a sliding scale.

Another important factor is that every participant, no matter what he pays, must do several work shifts.

Working together builds relationships. 

We work hard and we have fun at the same time. 

Our shared responsibility for making the whole operation run smoothly creates a real sense of equity throughout the camp, and strengthens the web of connection among us all. 

 

We eat healthy delicious food together, swim, sunbathe, play music, sing, and DANCE.

(An aside: Anywhere from 40-100 of us celebrate Shabbat together there on Friday evenings).

The dancing is an essential element of the community, because it enables people to be with each other in the present moment.

Dance is a wonderful vehicle for the spirit to express itself, and dancing cuts through the defenses that the mind creates.

 

Although I only spend 7-10 days a year at dance camp, all the people who attend feel like my family.

Each day feels like a week, because each day is so filled with meaningful face-to-face, heart-to-heart interactions.    

It also feels like one big family because there are so many interconnections between people.

The love in that community is expansive and pervasive, and each of us is transformed by what we give, receive and share there.

 

Last month I watched a NY Times on-line video about a Sudanese Episcopal minister in the Midwest, who ministers to a church whose members are Sudanese refugee-immigrants.

He said that in village life in Sudan, people see each other every day.  

They are not separated by walls, roads, miles. 

His church community in Michigan comes together every Sunday to pray together, and to be with each other – to see each other. 

The church has a large lawn, and after services, when weather permits, the congregation spends the afternoon outside together – the children play and the parents keep up with each other’s lives while keeping an eye on the children.

The communal worship and the pastor’s words are important, but what draws the people to the church is primarily their desire to be together.

 

 

The mitzvah of minyan means there must be a critical mass of adult Jews in order to say certain key prayers.

The greater purpose of minyan is not just to allow us to say those specific prayers and read from the Sefer Torah, but to ensure that we Jews gather together regularly – that we form and sustain Jewish communities.

 

Why not create opportunities during worship for us to see and hear each other?

 

This is what I have been doing when I invite people on Friday evening to review their week and to share something about it -- a joy, a challenge, or something learned -- with the others who have gathered to welcome the Shabbat.

 

This is why we read the personal yet anonymous al cheyt cards (“for the way I missed the mark by…”) on Yom Kippur.

 

This is why we sit in a circle at our monthly healing services and share a few words about each person for whom we are lighting a candle and praying.  

It’s also why I invite participants to formulate and declare our intentions for the new month.

 

This is why we sit in a circle at the “alternative” services that are held in this sanctuary on occasion.

 

This is why many synagogues and churches these days are replacing some or all of their fixed pews with movable seating, so that it is possible for people to see one another during services.

 

I recognize that this kind of personal contact and sharing is not desired by or comfortable for everyone.

In every one of the above situations, those who prefer not to share are welcome to be quiet, and are encouraged to listen with open hearts to others.

 

We probably all agree that one cannot live a Jewish life in isolation and that Jewish community is essential to Jewish life and continuity.

 

What does it mean to be a community?  

 

What experiences of community have been the most meaningful, powerful, and nourishing in your lives? 

 

When has Adas Yoshuron most felt like a real community to you? 

 

What does it mean to be a Jewish community?

 

Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman, in Rethinking Synagogues: A New Vocabulary for Congregational Life (2006), writes:

“The synagogue is a place for pursuing Torah, worshipping God, sacralizing relationships, healing the sick, and feeding the poor. It is a place where we know the presence of God among us and honor each other as made in God’s image (b’tselem elohim).” 

 

I want to insert here that this of course does not mean that we all have to agree with each other – after all, we are Jews!

We don’t even have to like one another.

But we do need to respect one another, to have compassion for one another, and be open to learning from one another.

 

Hoffman goes on to say that (the synagogue) “is where we celebrate each other’s sacred stories.  It is where we emulate God.  Synagogue is not a building.  It is the set of sacred relationships that constitute the community and the equally sacred acts that flow from it.”

 

Or, as my colleague, Rabbi David Bauer, so beautifully put it:

“A Jewish community is a place where we gather to become known to other Jews and to our own Jewish selves.    The Jewish spirit within us only truly blossoms when we gather with other Jews, learn to know them and be known.”

 

Some of the times when I have experienced a strong sense of community at Adas Yoshuron are:

 

·       High Holidays – the one time of year when we are all together, not just for a few hours, but several times over a 10-day period, for a total of MANY hours

·       Chanukah and Pesach – two other joyous holidays during which I see many of you, adults and children

·       Special events honoring beloved members, such as Sam and Ruth’s 90th birthday celebrations, Jean Chalmers’ going away dinner, the dinner for Eddie and Charlotte Gordon after their house fire.

·       The Klezmer concert this past May when the sanctuary was totally packed with people, and bursting with joyful energy.

·       The Tzedakah Fair last winter

·       The services led by our Hebrew School students. At each of these services, the entire sanctuary has been full of children, parents, and other delighted synagogue members, who all shared a potluck meal and lively conversation afterwards.

 

All of the above were well-attended events.

But there are times when smaller groups of people connected to the synagogue gather together, and I still experience a strong sense of community.

 

Two examples are:

·       The Jewish Alive and American class that met for 30 sessions during my second year here and became an enriching, if temporary, sub-community of Adas Yoshuron.  About 20 people studied together and shared deeply – their experiences and feelings as well as their ideas. We listened respectfully and attentively to one another and quickly grew to care about one another.

 

·       The potlucks at member’s homes, where people always make time to sit around for hours after Kabbalat Shabbat – children playing and adults schmoozing.

 

In both of those cases, it’s the intimacy of the group that creates the sense of community, not its size.

 

Jonathan Woocher, a former religion professor who has written widely about Jewish community, would probably tell me that most of the above are examples of communitas, i.e. moments of feeling a sense of community, of closeness and belonging, whereas true community involves a commitment to sustaining relationships of trust and caring over time. 

Moments of communitas are wonderful, valuable and inspiring. 

Genuine community is a challenge to build and sustain.

 

We need to find ways to collectively sustain the community feeling that we all enjoy during the High Holidays and at other special gatherings.

 

One dynamic that both creates and flows from genuine community is when people feel a sense of mutual responsibility and act upon it.

 

Whenever some one requests a minyan for Kaddish, I send out an email to the synagogue list and a minyan appears.  It has never happened that I sent out an email requesting a minyan and this community did not come through. 

 

The Talmud teaches: “Kol Yisrael arevim zeh la’zeh.”  All Israel is responsible for one another.

What can we do to create that sense of mutual responsibility in other ways as well as in responding to the call for a Kaddish minyan?  

 

Another factor in creating a sense of community is when people reach out to one another in times of illness or loss.

Witnessing the outpouring of concern from members of the synagogue after Joel’s bike accident -- the visits, phone calls and cards -- was one time when I really saw Adas Yoshuron act like a caring community.

Many shuls have Chesed – literally lovingkindess – committees, which organize visits, meals, rides and other support for sick or bereaved members.

Over the past several years, Steva Parkman has almost single-handedly been our de facto Chesed committee.

Were we to form a functioning Chesed committee here, it would ideally not be only the members of that committee who would help our members in need.

The committee would find out what sort of help was needed, and then tap the whole community for support. 

 

I know that there are groups of people within this synagogue who are intimately involved in one another’s lives.

My hope is that we will develop more and more lines of connection, and that the fabric of Adas Yoshuron as a whole will become stronger and more welcoming.

 

One simple, obvious, tried and true vehicle for building relationships among synagogue members is the tradition of onegs.

 

After the service last night, most of those who attended (including many of you here today) went downstairs to catch up with one another and to meet new people.

In most shuls, this happens after every service.

 

I want to take this opportunity to thank Marti Packer, who has agreed to jump start our weekly Oneg Shabbats after Saturday morning services beginning in October. 

These Onegs will not just consist of challah, wine and cake;

an actual meal will be served.

 

We are hoping that there will be volunteers to do the same on Friday evenings.

 

Oneg means delight.  The delight is partly in the food itself, but more importantly, in the opportunity that food provides to bring us together, face to face. 

 

 

Another way that we are hoping to build new connections and sustain old connections among members is through the Phone Bush, recently initiated by the “Good Times” Committee (myself, Mollie and Caryn).

If this phone bush works as intended, every member will be contacted by another Adas Yoshuron member once a month on average.  

I and the ten people who have agreed to make the calls, want you all to feel a part of this community not just during the High Holidays, but year round.

 

Many people contribute to this synagogue community in a variety of ways and are engaged in different activities here.

One hand doesn’t see what the other is doing.

It’s like the story of the blind men and the elephant.

One thinks the elephant is the trunk, one the tail, one the leg… etc.

 

Some might think the synagogue is the Hebrew School, some think it’s the Book Group, some think it’s the people who attend Shabbat morning services, …the Soup Kitchen volunteers, …the Board,  … participants in the adult ed classes, … the monthly healing circle, etc. 

 

There is a lot going on here all week, almost every week – especially during the school year.

I want to make sure that AY offers every Jew (and every Jew’s partner) in the Midcoast a comfortable home, with regular opportunities to enrich their lives through worship, learning, celebration, mutual support, tzedakah (social action), and social interaction.  And that holds for people who are not yet members as well as for those who currently are.  

 

I think we all know that the more actively we engage in our lives – our family relationships, our friendships, our work, our leisure activities, our worship – the more we benefit from and enjoy our experiences.

 

The more we participate in this synagogue community, the more significant a part of our lives this community becomes for us.

 

Also, it’s true for most people that the more they give to a community, the more comfortable they feel about asking for help and being given to by that community when they are in need.

 

As a famous 19th century Jew (Karl Marx) said:

“From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.”

 

What do you want to get out of your connection to this community?

What can you contribute?

I believe that every one of you has something to gain from more involvement here, from engagement in some area of synagogue life that you have not yet involved yourself in, and every one of you can contribute something.

 

Some of you may be thinking:

“I am too new.  I barely know any one.  It is too soon for me to contribute, too soon for me to serve on a committee, too soon for me to initiate anything here.”

 

Some of you may be thinking:  “I am not Jewish, so this does not apply to me.”  Or, “My spouse is not Jewish, so I had better stay on the periphery; I can’t fully belong here.”

 

Some of you may be thinking:  “I invested a lot of energy here in the past.  I did my part.  Let others get involved and do the work now.”

 

And of course, many of you are saying:  “I already have too many commitments.  I have no time to give to the synagogue.”

 

In the Torah, when the Israelites engaged in the huge collective task of building the mishkan – the portable sanctuary that they carried with them for 40 years in the wilderness – every one contributed something. 

God tells Moses to tell the Israelites to “Build me a mishkan, a sanctuary, so that I may dwell among them (Ex 25:8).”

It’s not that God need a physical place to dwell.  God did not dwell in the sanctuary, but through the communal process of building the mishkan together, we merited for God to dwell among us.

 

What collective projects can we at Adas Yoshuron build -- engage in -- together?

 

I would love to hear your ideas for communal projects, be it something tangible we make with our hands, a book containing each of our personal Jewish stories, or a social action project in which we can all participate.

 

I think we would have a healthier, more vibrant and more connected community, if each member made a commitment to help plan and implement at least one cultural, social or educational program, or one social action project, or to give one D’var Torah, or to help with Hebrew School in some concrete way, or to take responsibility for organizing one Sunday Soup Kitchen each year, etc. 

 

AND, in addition to whatever else you do, I would like to see each member household sponsor at least one Oneg per year. 

Many synagogues and churches require this of their members.

It doesn’t even mean you would have to come to services (although of course I hope you will!), but it does mean you would have to feed your fellow congregants once a year, and hopefully sit and eat with them and get to know them a bit better!

(You could opt to host a Shabbat at your home, instead of bringing an oneg to the shul).

 

I firmly believe that when more is asked of us, we come forward to do what is asked, and we then feel more a part of the community,  and proud to be a part of the community which values itself enough to be bold enough to make those demands on us.

 

May each of us enter into this sanctuary more often in the coming year than in the year that has passed.

 

May the connections between us grow both in number and in depth.

 

May there be many joyful, meaningful gatherings here in the coming year.

 

May we be a community that supports its members in times of illness, loss or other distress.

 

May each of you always feel completely welcome and at home in this place, and in every place where Adas Yoshuron members gather to celebrate Shabbat, holidays or other happy occasions.

 

And may you know that you are not only welcome here -- 

you are also needed.

 

L’Shanah Tovah Tikateivu