As the snowbirds fly

Summer’s quiet invitation

Rabbi Ammos Chorny

There’s a particular moment each year that arrives with both gratitude and a twinge of loss. The sanctuary feels a bit more spacious, the kiddush line a little shorter, and the committee calendars a bit less crowded. Slowly but surely, our beloved “snowbirds” have begun their seasonal migration north, leaving behind warm memories and a quieter rhythm in our warm-hearted Florida congregation.

For those of us who remain, the summer months are a kind of spiritual selah — a pause in the music. The high energy of winter holidays, lectures, events and packed Shabbat mornings gives way to something slower, more reflective. Fewer voices in the room, yes, but more room to listen.

It’s easy to view this season as a time of waiting. Waiting for the crowds to return. Waiting for the programming to ramp up. Waiting for the buzz of familiar energy to resume. But I believe summer offers something else: an invitation to deepen.

With fewer external demands, we’re given space to look inward — to take stock of our own Jewish journeys. Torah study groups might be smaller, but the conversations become more personal. Shabbat services may be quieter, but the stillness invites presence. Summer, in all its stillness, challenges us to reconnect not through noise, but through nuance.

It’s also an opportunity to tend to the quieter corners of our community life. To check in on those who don’t travel — who may feel even more isolated during these months. To build deeper relationships among year-round members. To experiment with new ideas in a low pressure season, nurturing the seeds of programs that might blossom in the fall.

Just as the Israelites wandered in the desert before reaching the Promised Land, we are invited to find meaning in the in-between spaces.

And let’s not forget our snowbirds. Just because they are physically elsewhere doesn’t mean their connection to our community should hibernate. A handwritten note, a friendly email or a livestream link to services can sustain the spiritual bridge across the miles.

There’s a beautiful teaching from Pirkei Avot: “Who is wise? One who learns from every person.” Summer reminds us that sometimes our teachers are not in the room. Sometimes they are in the silences, in the long walks, in the empty chairs that call us to remember and to create. We can choose to treat this season as an intermission, or we can embrace it as an essential chapter in the spiritual cycle of the year. Just as the land needs fallow time to renew its strength, so too do our souls. Just as the Israelites wandered in the desert before reaching the Promised Land, we are invited to find meaning in the in-between spaces.

To our snowbirds: we miss you already! Your presence brings joy, wisdom and vitality to our congregation. We await your return with open arms.

To those staying behind: may this summer be a time of quiet growth, sacred exploration and unexpected connection. Let’s lean into the stillness and see what speaks.

May the months ahead refresh us, renew us and ready us for all that lies ahead.

Rabbi Ammos Chorny serves at Beth Tikvah.