RABBI’S MESSAGE

Dear Friends,

I am so thrilled to have the opportunity to write a message once again. I have missed you very much.

We have persevered through two years of COVID. We have lost many loved ones, and so much in our lives has changed. Too much to write about here. But there is something that has not changed at all. I will illustrate with a story.

When my father died I was committed to not missing one kaddish. This means that I planned every single day around where I could find a minyan. I traveled to Israel a few weeks after his death, and I was concerned that I would not be able to organize a minyan on my overnight flight. A few hours in, a group of hasidim gathered in the aisles and began to pray. I put my tefillin on and joined them. The prayer leader was far down the aisle and behind the wall where the restrooms were located, so I could not hear him. Worried that I would miss the kaddish, I told the hasid in front of me that my father died and I was trying to say kaddish but I could not hear anything. He took my hand, pushed through the men crowding the aisle, and brought me next to the shatz (prayer leader). And the most remarkable thing happened: for the remainder of the service, this man held my hand. At first it felt awkward, but it was one of the most meaningful gestures that I experienced during my year of mourning.

Such moments cannot be reproduced in virtual spaces. No matter how intimate it feels with close ups and crisp video, nobody can ever grab your hand and hold it while you grieve for a loved one. As joyous as it may be to watch a bar mitzvah dance around the bimah, it does not compare to throwing the candy and adding your voice to our communal singing.

It is important to acknowledge that for some, in person engagement is truly not possible. It may be unsafe for medical reasons or not possible because of one’s physical limitations. And for people in this situation, virtual opportunities to join our communal life are crucial. I am so thankful that we have created robust and effective virtual options for people who can’t attend shul in person, and we will continue to nurture these members of our community. For those who have not been to shul in two years and really can’t come back yet, please let us know if you would like to set up a time to chat together on Zoom so we can have a mutual reconnection. Though you can see and hear us, we can’t see you on the other end, and we miss that time with you.

For those who can return to shul but have chosen to remain engaged virtually, we need you to come back to our sanctuary. Prayer is deeply personal and intimate, but it is not meant to be solitary. Personal prayer is embedded with greater significance when it is shaped by communal prayer. Each prayer uttered in a sanctuary full of people joins itself to the prayers of others. Together, they weave a tapestry of words, music, and yearnings that can be transformational. Without the give and take generated by an in-person communal experience, it becomes extremely difficult to transform prayer into the powerful religious expression it can be. Even though participating virtually fills an important need, it is important to remain cognizant that though we may feel connected, in actuality, we remain in our homes, alone.

Of course, during the past two years, our virtual service was not a convenience; it was a life saver. It was a solace amidst the profound isolation and fear that was rampant. It was a source of hope and defiance. In some ways, I even miss those Kabbalat Shabbat services that ended with your smiling faces waving goodbye as Jack played the piano. But as with anything else, we must ask ourselves if we want this to be a temporary bridge that sustained us through the darkest time of this pandemic, or a transformation of how we engage in our spiritual and communal lives. The latter would be devastating for American Jewish life, with its empty sanctuaries and commodified virtual experiences. Now is the time to return to shul to prevent this temporary solution from becoming a permanent feature of modern Judaism.

If you fell out of the habit of coming to Beth El in person and you have enjoyed the conveniences of joining through the livestream, please, come back to your communal home. We miss you and we are incomplete without you. Every single one of you. It’s easy to think, “I am just one person, so joining from home does not impact anyone.” But I want you to know that this is not true. If you are able, we want you to sit with us and sing with us and schmooze with us at kiddush. If you attended shul every week prior to the pandemic, we want you to return every week. If you came to shul every once in a while, we want you to return every once in a while. The viability of our shul depends on making that switch.

And besides, someone may need you to hold their hand through saying kaddish, and that should be worth everything.

I hope to see you soon, and I wish you all good health and lots of love.

L’Shalom,

Rabbi David A. Schuck