Shanna tova. Note that we Jews wish for a good (tova) new year - not a happy one. It’s not that we’re opposed to “happy.” It’s just that goodness is the essence of what we all hope for, whether we’re happy or not. Please, may it be good. May goodness flow through us all, our community, our country, Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, Ukraine… all the world. On this holy day that begins a new year, when we pray for goodness, one thing is certain: Life is dramatically different from last Rosh Hashanah. For starters [comedic beat]: The old wooden pews in this sanctuary have been replaced by comfy new purple chairs - which I hope you and your backs and backsides appreciate. So that’s different, in a good way. Better yet, we have many new people in our community - welcome to all, and shana tova. Sadly, this year, like all years, was one of loss – we lost some deeply beloved members, friends and family. It was, in fact, a year of tremendous pain and stress. The catastrophe of October 7 and i
When I was a kid, growing-up in Highland Park, Illinois, my rabbi’s name was Shalom Singer. He was a wonderful, old-fashioned reform rabbi with white hair and he wore a white robe with sleeves that billowed when he raised his arms to bless us. At such times, he looked exactly like an angel of the Lord. He preached to us in a booming voice but we were never frightened because we knew he loved us kids. He could tell jokes that actually made kids laugh. Unlike your rabbi, I’m afraid. But it was his High Holy Day sermons that moved me most, once I was old enough to follow them. One sticks in my mind: He was talking about angels in Judaism – which, as we will see, can be very different from, say, angels in Christianity or angels in Hollywood. Anyway, what I remember is that, at some point during Rabbi Singer’s sermon, my Mom turned to my Dad and said: “ Alison is our angel.” Now, I know what you’re all thinking [pause]: I was their angel then ; but I’m yours now! Right? No, not so much