Why We Are Here

Weeks at Temple Emanu-El are never routine—that is one of the great gifts, and great challenges, of congregational life. No two days are ever the same, and so it is certainly true that, as they say in the Talmud, al achat kamah v’chamah, how much more so is it the case that no two weeks are similar.

But while all weeks are unique, some are also special. And one week over the summer was truly remarkable, and worth sharing with you.

Three unique events took place that week, and none involved large numbers of congregants or any public acclaim. But all were, in their own way, truly holy.

The first was a wedding I was asked to do for a couple moving to Tucson. They had been working on coming here for quite a while, love horseback riding, and asked me if I would do their wedding—on horseback. We eventually agreed that there were certain complications in terms of actually getting hitched in the saddle—how do you hold a chupah over two horses and two riders? How do you convince the horse to break the glass at the right time?—and so we rode out in the desert to a beautiful spot where the wranglers had thoughtfully set up the chupah, ketubah, wine cups, and glass, and dismounted.

And there and then, in the beautiful early morning light, with the magnificent Catalina Mountains framing the scene, and with more four-legged than two-legged witnesses looking on, we had a full and lovely Jewish wedding. It was, so they said, the marriage ceremony of their dreams, and except for the extra, added attraction of a few horseflies, it really was perfect. And then we went riding for a couple of hours to celebrate. Only in Tucson…

The second unusual event that week took place when an older man came in to the office to join temple. It seems that I had conducted his son’s funeral during my vacation, and he wished to correct an omission in his life. 40 years before when he first moved here he tried to join a synagogue. But, at the time, he couldn’t afford the religious school tuition, and had been turned down. We assured him no one is turned down these days, and out of gratitude for the help he and his family had received during their time of sorrow and loss he was proud to become a member.

The third unusual thing that happened was a bat mitzvah. Now, we do many bar and bat mitzvahs—b’nai mitzvah, technically—and they are all very fine. But this one really was different.

We don’t normally do bat or bar mitzvahs in the afternoon of Shabbat for what is called a Havdalah service, believing that the bar or bat mitzvah should be part of the vibrant, regular religious life of our synagogue. But this was a very special circumstance.

The grandmother of the girl whose bat mitzvah we did is very ill with cancer, and she couldn’t travel to the big, formal event being held on the east coast. So we set up a simple, small service in our chapel for her and her family the week before, which would be the same Torah portion. The girl’s family flew in from around the country and even from Europe, and some of our most loyal congregants attended. There were fewer than 25 people at the service.

I had never met the girl before, but she turned out to be delightful—bright, talented, well-prepared, easy-going. We had a lot fun doing the service together, even harmonizing. But it was when she spoke about her grandmother—who was sitting in the first row, beaming, kvelling, in obvious physical discomfort but shepping naches, enjoying the moment in a deep and wonderful way—everyone cried. It was a poignant, beautiful, powerful, sacred moment.

It was, in short, why we have temples, why we need rabbis, why really Judaism matters.

Holiness is not grand designs or huge events. Holiness is the small, personal touch of helping a dying grandmother rejoice as she watches her 13-year old granddaughter shine.

Temple Emanu-El has many functions, and serves many purposes. We are a place of great Jewish education for everyone from the youngest to the most senior of our congregants. We reach out to Jews and those interested in Judaism as well as any Jewish organization in the country. We provide many meaningful, beautiful, and diverse ways for people to pray to God every week. We work to help alleviate the suffering of individuals and families in our society who are vulnerable. We comfort the bereaved, care for the sick, visit the lonely, feed the hungry, house the homeless.

But if I had to explain one reason we are here, it would be for events like this bat mitzvah, and for weeks like these. May we have many such weeks this coming year.

May 5768 be a good year of fulfillment, goodness, and holiness, for you and your family.

Wendy, Boaz, Gabriel, and Cipora join me in wishing you a L’shana Tova Tikateivu v’Teichateimu,