Rosh Hashanah

Divre Harav – November, 2025

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Note: I have been requested to share my sermon from the second day of Rosh Hashanah in the Voice.]

Any gathering of people, including we who are gathered in this sanctuary, can be described as a collection of broken souls. Not a single one of us is perfect and there is no one here who has not been touched with pain, sadness, discord, or tragedy of one sort or another. Somehow, we’ve managed to put ourselves together for another day. We have wheelchairs, walkers, and canes, we have therapists, psychiatrists, and medication, we have spouses, children and friends, we have a whole collection of supports to get us through each day. Some days we are strong enough to support others, other days we can barely lift ourselves, and some days we don’t have the strength to do much more than breathe. Yet we are here, together. Some in this room, and some who are peering into the room through a virtual window of sorts.

Two of the three shofar calls allude to this brokenness. Two of the three names for the Shofar calls allude to pain, loss, mourning, and brokenness. Shevarim literally means broken, and Teruah literally means a cry. Both are described as the moaning or wailing of a woman who has just learned that her son died. These sounds of the shofar are an unspoken call of welcome to all whose souls are in pain.

The broken shofar calls are sandwiched between two Teki’ot, the primary call that alludes to wholeness. When we gather together as a collection of broken parts, together we achieve a beautiful wholeness. That’s the blessing of community, which happens when we set aside our ego and our fears and our resentments and jealousies and angry memories and offer the best of our imperfections to the collective whole. That’s what happens when the community sets aside its collective gripes and welcomes and embraces all who come in the door with good intentions, seeking to add their voice and talents and resources to elevate the whole. We may have seen the worst of each other, but we understand that part of what it means to be a sacred religious community is to be Ahavas Israel, loving each person who seeks higher meaning and purpose by lending their time and talents and presence to our congregation.

The holidays should be a time for healing and connection. It is a time to ask ourselves as individuals and as a broad community, what are we missing? Where have we missed the mark? How can we be better? How can we make each other better? Where have we failed to be our best selves, where have we allowed our ego to demand more than its share of attention and energy? Where have we failed to make space for others? Where have we listened carefully to the message of Torah, and where have we fallen short?

So let’s acknowledge that we might disagree about what is broken around us and what needs fixing, but I think we can be in general agreement that the state of our world, the Middle East, Europe, North America, the United States of America, is in need of tikkun. As individuals, the task of repair feels hopeless. Even as a collective, since we can’t agree on where the problem lies, repair seems impossible. Even if we could agree on where the problem lies, the problems are so large, so systemic, that brokenness feels like a permanent state.

Shir Hama’alot, Psalm 125 that we sing before Birkat Hamazon, reminds us that “those who sow with tears will harvest with joy.” It is unreasonable to expect that we’ll have no sorrow in our life. The natural order of life is that we will experience loss and heartbreak. Our body becomes stronger physically by breaking down and rebuilding muscle tissue. We become emotionally and spiritually resilient by learning to overcome pain and disappointment. Face to face engagement for the purpose of intellectual, spiritual, and emotional development is an investment in our future. Those who have deeply invested themselves in a community like Ahavas Israel have built a human support system to stave off the plague of loneliness.

Join a book group, join a Havurah of people who talk about Jewish themed movies, create a Havurah of people who have Shabbat dinner together weekly or monthly, and become a part of a community of people who are not perfect, they may occasionally disagree about politics, but who are committed to supporting each other in their differences and through their brokenness.

The late Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach founded a synagogue in Berkeley during the 1960s in order to reach out to the many young Jews who had drifted away from Jewish tradition. He named it the House of Love and Prayer. In the summer of 1967, he was asked to explain his vision for this synagogue.

He answered: “Here’s the whole thing, simple as it is. The House of Love and Prayer is a place where, when you walk in, someone loves you, and when you walk out, someone misses you.” 

What a beautiful vision of a house of prayer! When you are at Ahavas Israel, we love you. We welcome you for who you are. We are happy to see you. When you are not here, we miss you. We want you to come back. We know that we are a better place with you. When you are here, when you give Torah, Prayer, and God the chance to round off your sharp corners and smooth over your broken parts, you will become a better human being. We believe in the power of mitzvot, we believe in the power of Judaism to elevate your soul.

My friend Arieh ben David wrote, “It would be nice if we could build without breaking. It would be nice if my life, our lives, didn’t break apart. It would be nice if growth were a smooth, straight line. But it’s not. There is a soulful spark of hope in every broken moment. It is the foundation of our building.

“There is an inner power to the Jewish People. We are good friends with adversity. We have slept with unfairness, cruelty, and disappointment for way too long. We are done with kvetching about how life is unfair…. We have tasted enough life to assert that brokenness will not defeat us…. We have brokenness – but we also have the will, wisdom, and power to build.

“We hear the voice of the shofar. Tekiah – Shvarim/Truah – Tekiah. Again and again, we will hear the mournful broken voices of Shvarim and Truah. The broken voice of the shofar – Shvarim/Truah – is always preceded and succeeded by the unity of the Tekiah. Listen carefully to the shofar’s brokenness. It is a prayer, an invitation, for us to unify, heal, and build. Brokenness is never the final word.”

Here’s how I want you to listen to the shofar today:

Visualize a moment of brokenness and see it wrapped within moments of wholeness. See the tekiah as a protective bandage around the pain. The tekiah is the path towards healing. A tekiah is a call for the community to unite, rise up, travel, and move forward. The tekiah is the path that you can take to acknowledge the pain and move forward, whatever that means to you, whatever that looks like in your life, with your uniquely broken self. There is no growth without pain, and there are no two people broken along precisely the same lines. Honor your brokenness, honor your loss, it is real and tangible, but the shofar is here to tell you that you can take the broken pieces and put them into the ark of your heart, and seal them alongside the wholeness of the new pieces that you build as you continue moving forward.

Tekiah Shevarim Tekiah

Tekiah Teruah Tekiah

Tekiah Shevarim Teruah Tekiah.

The Ba’al Shem Tov would say the following before blowing the shofar on Rosh Hashanah: “You, and I, and God; and God, and you, and me; and me, and you, and God.” [cited in Ariel Mayse’s “Laws of the Spirit”, page 183, citing Ketem Paz, a Tiberian Hasidic text, late 18th c.]

He would remind his congregation that we are in relationship with God and with each other; each person here is in relationship with each of the others and with God; and God is in relationship with each of us. You, who have chosen to walk into this room, are enmeshed in this web of connections. You can choose to sever the connections and walk away; or you can embrace the messiness of the connections, and grow together with this community.

A parable. Once there was a member of the King’s court who rebelled against the king. When he was brought before the king he pleaded for mercy in judgment. The king commanded him to set his own sentence according to the law. When he heard the king’s ruling the courtier cried out with great despair and pleaded with the king not to make him judge himself, for he knew in the depth of his soul that by legal standards he was guilty. He begged the king to judge him for he knew that the king was loving and merciful and could set aside the punishment required by law.

So, too, we pray ‘Do not come to us in judgment,’ meaning do not come to us for judgment of ourselves, “for no living being can make themselves righteous.” We know that strictly speaking we have sinned and we are unable to forgive, so we beg You to judge us, for You are loving and merciful and yearning to forgive and to act with us compassionately…

Only Your eyes see us correctly, for You are loving and merciful and it is within Your power to forgive us, and to abundantly gift us with life, blessing, goodness, redemption and comfort [Kedushat Levi, toward the end of the end of the section on Rosh HaShannah]

We, who come to you with broken and bruised parts, ask to be comforted, blessed, and healed. Amen, so may it be Your will.

Divre Harav – September, 2025

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“U-netaneh Tokef, Let us speak of the sacred power of this day – profound and awe inspiring.”

This quotation is from one of the most well-known High Holiday prayers, renowned both for the power of its descriptive images of passing before God in judgement of who will live and who will die, and for the stirring and emotionally resonant quality of its music. This opening line of the poem lays out the proposition that the days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur have sacred power. This is both true and not true. The days themselves have no inherent power. If you wake up on the mornings of September 23 and 24 and go to work or to the gym or go about your normal daily routine, then for you, Rosh Hashanah does not have sacred power. If, however, you alter your routine and consciously recognize the day by your behavior, it begins to have power in that the day itself motivates you to deviate from your expected actions. If you spend some part of the day at the synagogue, if you read specific pieces of literature and contemplate certain prayers, the day begins to have sacred power in that your mind is traveling down a different set of pathways and is opening up to a different set of thoughts about who you are and how you can best fulfill your life’s purpose.

It is only when you throw yourself in the traditions and liturgy of the day that you give it its full sacred power to inspire awe. When you hear the shofar, imagine the sound waves blasting through your heart, breaking down the callouses that build up over time which insulate you from being sensitive to the cries of the world. When you hear the melodies of the Torah reading, imagine yourself as the obedient servant of God or as offering yourself freely as an agent of God’s will. When you taste the apples and the sweet honey, imagine what your life might be like if you consciously removed jealousy, hatred, resentment, and excessive ego from your heart. When you hear U’netaneh Tokef, imagine how you would behave if your life depended on taking the best possible moral action at every decision point.

Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur can act on agnostic and skeptical Jews, Jews who call themselves non-religious, and Jews whose synagogue affiliation is motivated by little more than nostalgia for a world that no longer exists. But it all begins with a single step, a single mitzvah. It’s like the old joke, “How many psychologists does it take to change a light bulb? Just one. But the light bulb has to want to change.” The single mitzvah is to be fully present with an open heart. This single mitzvah may be prompted by a different single mitzvah, of putting on tefillin every day or giving tzedakah every day or carrying energy bars in your car to give away at stoplights or lighting candles or saying Kiddush every Shabbat. The only way through the door to profound and awe-inspiring experience is to awaken your soul and teach it how to engage in a single mitzvah at a time.

Pirke Avot (4:2) teaches, “mitzvah goreret mitzvah, one mitzvah leads to another mitzvah.” May your hearts be open to the wonders of the transformative power of Rosh Hashanah, a single mitzvah at a time.

Hebrew word(s) of the Month:

  • teshuvah – repentance
  • tefillah – prayer
  • tzedakah – giving, acts of righteousness
  • gezerah – decree

“Teshuvah, Tefillah, and Tzedakah have the power to lesson the severity of the decree against us.”

Divre Harav – September, 2024

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We’re about one month away from the fall holidays. During the month of Elul, beginning on Wednesday, September 4, one month before Rosh Hashanah, our tradition encourages us to engage in introspection.What kind of person do I want to be? Where is there room for growth and improvement? Where have I been holding on to grudges or unresolved issues? How can I correct the course of my life and become kinder, more loving, more forgiving? How can I better reflect the Divine spark within me?

Some people make it a point to journal during Elul. Each evening, before going to bed, spend 5-10 minutes writing about something you did well that day and some place you fell short and hope to improve on. You might consider writing or revising your ethical will, a letter (doesn’t have to be long) articulating some lessons you’ve learned in the course of your life, and moral guidance and hope for future generations. My colleague Rabbi Steven Abraham of Beth El Synagogue in Omaha, Nebraska, offers the following questions to get you started:

  • What are each of our core beliefs and values?
  • How have these beliefs and values manifested themselves in our lives? Are there further ways we’d like them to?
  • What teachings from our parents, grandparents or siblings that speak to us do we want to pass on?
  • What two or three life lessons need to be written down?
  • What are we grateful for in life?
  • Sometimes imagining that you only have a limited time left brings to mind the things in life that are truly important – what are those things for you?

You might also devote a few minutes a day to reading and learning more about the spiritual practices of Judaism and its holidays. Here are a few website to look at. You can sign up for weekly email to bring a bit of learning right to your inbox.

  • ExploringJudaism.org – this is a new project of the Conservative movement, with a growing number of articles reflecting traditional Jewish practice in today’s world.
  • Myjewishlearning.com/ – At more than 20 years old, My Jewish Learning is a granddaddy of Jewish learning websites.
  • Sefaria.org/community – Sefaria is primarily a library of Judaic texts, but also has a library of articles on topics of holidays, Jewish thought and values, mitzvot, and Torah study.

Elul prep for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur can be seen as a kind of self-care for one’s soul. Just as you bring your car into the shop for regular oil changes and tune-ups, and you maintain your home HVAC system, changing filters regularly, your body and soul need attention as well. Marisa joins me in wishing you a joyful high holiday season.

Hebrew word of the Month:

  • Heshbon Nefesh – An accounting of the soul
  • Tzava’ah – An ethical will

Divre Harav – September/2020

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Over the past five months plus, I have become an expert in participating in prayer online. No matter what the status of COVID-19 cases might be in West Michigan in mid-September, some will not be comfortable in an in-person service. And Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur might be your first experience in a virtual synagogue environment. Here are some things you should know:

First, the service this year will be significantly different than in the past. We have designed it with the pandemic in mind. It will be shorter, to reduce potential exposure time of those sitting in the sanctuary, to acknowledge that wearing face-masks for a prolonged service is uncomfortable, and because we know that it is more difficult to remain engaged while watching a service through a screen.

We have crafted this service carefully, choosing prayers that are engaging, even while sitting at home. But in the end, the service is only as active as you are. The trick is to place yourself in a sacred frame of mind and imagine that you are sitting in your favorite seat in the sanctuary, no matter where you are physically located. Stand when the congregation stands, bow when the congregation bows. respond – out loud – when the congregation responds. Sing along with Cantor Stuart and read the English readings along with me. Don’t stand by and watch — Participate!

We are making High Holiday Mahzorim available for you to take home for each person in your household. Set aside your electronic devices and turn off the notification on the screen that serves as your window into Ahavas Israel. For 90 minutes (or so), follow along and contemplate the themes laid out before you in the liturgy. The season of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is a time of renewal. Draw your attention to the areas in your life which would benefit from breathing new life into them. The New Year and the Day of Atonement is about strengthening relationships with family, reconnecting with friends, remembering to be generous, giving, and kind to yourself and others, establishing a prayer routine, and finding God at the center of your consciousness.

Leo Laporte, a tech journalist, describes the consumption of media as a “sit-back experience,” versus the “lean-in experience” of interacting with the content. I encourage you to lean into your Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur experience with an active posture and an active mind. If you take my advice, whether you are sitting in the pews or sitting at home, I virtually guarantee that you will be transformed!

Hebrew Word of the Month:

  • • Mashgiah Ruhani – spiritual advisor

Divre Harav – Summer/2020

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Even an optimist has to face reality now and then. And as much as I want to believe that life is going to switch back to normal this summer, I have accepted that there is a real possibility that we’ll be making significant changes to our Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services this fall because it will not yet be safe for many of us to gather together.

Our Zoom services this spring have been a much needed opportunity for connecting with other people in real-time conversations through the windows on a computer screen. We’ve successfully convened a minyan every day, Monday through Friday, from the end of March to the beginning of May, and counting. But creating an engaging zoom experience requires my hands on the keyboard, turning on and off microphones, scrolling pages and announcing page numbers, as Stuart and I take turns leading pieces of the service. For Jews like me who believe that Shabbat is a time to refrain from turning on and off electricity and using devices, using a laptop or a mobile device is a violation of the sanctity of Shabbat.

In addition, convening a minyan normally requires 10 people in the same physical space. During the pandemic, when face to face contact carried life and death risks, I’ve used the concept of pikuah nefesh (saving a life) to allow for an expanded definition of minyan to include ten Jews in a zoom meeting, with near real-time audio and visual connection. When we can again gather in person, however, we’ll go back to requiring a minyan of 10 in the same physical space, although I expect that we’ll also continue to include additional participants via zoom. 

I’ve begun investigating different methods of broadcasting streaming video of our service on Facebook Live, Youtube, and other platforms, either with a scattered minyan present in the sanctuary or with no one present but Stuart and me. The central question in anticipation of an altered High Holiday experience is, how do we create an engaging, online experience that feels traditional and also respects traditional Jewish Shabbat and Festival practice? I’m hoping you can help me with that.

When you think back on your years of Rosh Hashanah experiences, what do you remember? What parts of the service feel essential to you? What part or parts of the service would not feel engaging to you if you were to consider watching a High Holiday service on a screen. How long could you see yourself sitting in front of the screen? An hour? Two hours? In such an experience, would you prefer a traditional 15 minute sermon or would you prefer a 30 minute teaching format with a text sheet provided in advance? Finally, what kinds of messages would you like to hear this fall? Have you had enough of coronavirus, or would you expect the service to focus on casting a theological frame around your fears, anxieties, frustrations, and ongoing sense of isolation?

Have I missed anything – what else should we consider that is important to your spiritual experience? Please let me know. Leave me a message at the synagogue, send me an email (Rabbi@ahavasisraelgr.org). I need to know what you are thinking.

Hebrew Words of the Month:

  • pikuah nefesh – saving a life
  • masakh – screen
  • hazramat media – streaming media