Dear Congregation Beth Israel members and friends,

As we enter December I’m still feeling the reverberations of the Shabbat in November when we celebrated my thirteen years (so far) of serving the CBI community. To everyone who joined us for that Shabbat – and everyone who helped cater – and everyone who offered photographs, memories, blessings, and care – and everyone from the choir to the event-planning committee who organized the morning and its many forms of sweetness – thank you. So much.

I want to offer a particular word of gratitude to choir director Adam Green, who wrote a piece of new music that we premiered that Shabbat morning. The words he set to music are a poem I wrote a few years ago, titled Baruch She’amar (“Blessed is the One Who Speaks [The World Into Being]”) and it is a riff on the morning prayer of that same name. His musical setting (sheet music is here) is gorgeous and was such a joy to sing that morning – I can’t wait to share it with y’all again.

When I sat down to write a d’var Torah for that Shabbat, I struggled a bit. The occasion felt momentous and I wanted to offer Torah insights that rose to that level. And yet we’d finished the high holiday season only a few short weeks prior. Did anyone really want to hear another sermon from me about that same Torah portion that we read each year on Rosh Hashanah? Then a friend asked the question that made it easy: what’s my “rabbinic mission statement?”

Why did I want to become a rabbi? What is a rabbi “for,” in general – and what do I think I am here for, in particular? Once those questions arose, the writing flowed like a happy stream. (And here’s where I wound up, in case you haven’t seen it yet: Covenant: Vayera 5785.) In a word, I’m here to live into the holy covenant between us as rabbi and community. I’m here to accompany you in whatever life brings, and to help you find holiness in it, whatever it may be.

A few days ago I took the students in CBI’s Tikkun Olam Workshop class to visit a local nursing home. We had talked beforehand about the Jewish value of honoring our elders, and also about some tips to keep in mind when speaking with older folks. Most of these young teens had never visited a nursing home before. We asked the residents questions: did you ever have a pet? Do you have children and grandchildren? What do you remember from when you were a kid?

After the visit, when the students and I debriefed about their experience, they told me that it wasn’t easy. For some it was a little bit scary. Some noted that our conversations were repetitive. Others had never met anyone with memory loss. One kid asked me, what if they just forget that we came? Does our visit make a difference then? I told them that as far as I’m concerned, it does. It’s a mitzvah to visit our elders, even if they might forget that we were there.

I didn’t tell our teens this, but I’m pretty sure they won’t forget it. I hope that at least some of the elders that we went to see will remember this group of kids fondly. But even if they don’t, the kids will remember. They’ll remember that visiting people – asking about their lives – keeping them company for a little while on life’s journey – all of these are mitzvot, and they’re mitzvot that all of us can do… no matter what age we are or with whom we’re connecting.

Next time you’re at CBI, I hope you’ll strike up a conversation with someone you might not know. I get to know all of you, from fifth-generation North Adams residents to our newest members who have just found their way here. But you don’t all know each other. So at our Chanukah celebration (Dec. 16), or at the kiddush after a Shabbat service, I hope you’ll chat with someone you don’t yet know. Share what brings you here, and ask them the same.

We can all learn from and with each other – whether our generations are buried in the beautiful CBI cemetery or we just moved here from far away; whether we chose Judaism as adults or were born into Jewish tradition and practice; whether we thrill to Ashkenazi (Eastern European) melodies or Sefardi ones (from Spain, Morocco, or Turkey). We’re all part of the tapestry of this beautiful and unique community… and I’m so grateful to be here and to be serving all of y’all.

I look forward to seeing you this month at Shabbat and at our (early) Chanukah celebration!

Blessings to all,

— Rabbi Rachel