Rabbi Alison Adler

  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

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  For starters [comedic beat]: The old wooden pews in this sanctuary have been replaced by comfy new purple chairs - which I hope you and your backs and backsides appreciate.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

  Gut yontif, good morning. How are you? If we were all on Zoom I would ask you to put in the chat one word that describes how you feel this morning. I can imagine a few of those words… overwhelmed, tired, anxious, worried...grateful…Thankfully, we are here together, in our expansive sanctuary that includes everyone at home and in person.  And in these uncertain times, on this serious and holy day, I want to begin in a very Jewish way by telling a joke. Do you remember the old joke about Rivkah and Saul? Poor Saul is nearing the very end of his life, and his beloved wife, Rivkah, is at his bedside with tears in her eyes.  She leans towards him and whispers in his ear: “Sauly . . . is there anything I can do to make easier your passing into the next world?”  Saul raises his head slowly, turns to her and says: “Rivkeleh! Chocolate babka – no one makes it like you. The taste of it reminds me how much I love you. How I’d love to have just one more bite of it before I leave this world! Such