“Getting to the Synagogue On-Time”
The rabbi of the great Reform-Reconstructionist congregation in the city of Chelm was perfect in every way except for one: no matter how hard she tried, she always came late to services. And, to make matters worse, when she finally did arrive, she inevitably would realize she had forgotten something and have to go all the way back home to retrieve it. Sometimes it would be a hat, or a glove, or a handkerchief, or a watch. Or, even worse, things she actually needed for services like her prayer book, kippah, or tallis. The list went on and on, and just when you thought it was completely exhausted, she would forget something you hadn’t even considered for the list at all. Once, it wasn’t something she had forgotten, it was her Shabbat dinner burning in the oven, that had to be tended to immediately or her whole house would have burst into flames.
No, Rabbi Sarah Levi was the perfect rabbi in almost every aspect except this very important one. She was a renowned speaker, a beautiful musician, a gifted educator, a comforting pastoral presence, and on and on, she just could never actually get to the places she needed to be in order to show off those very skills.
What to do? The wise women of Chelm were in a quandary. God forbid, they would have to remove such a beloved rabbi. But, how could they stop the vicious cycle of being late, and then returning home and being even later, until she had missed most of the service altogether? It would take all of their wits to find a solution.
“Aha!” said Alta Mindel, the head of the council. She gathered all of the other women around her and began to outline her solution. They would make a list of every possible item Rabbi Levi had forgotten in the past, and set up stations along the route she used to get to the synagogue in order to hand these items to her, one by one, so as not to forget a single thing. The plan was challenging and would require the cooperation of the entire community, but all the women agreed, it could be done.
So, that night they began to compile their list and assign people to hold the items. They worked all week along it, arranging all of the inhabitants of Chelm at specific checkpoints along the way. They set it all up starting early Friday afternoon, going over their plan time and again, to make sure they had everything in place.
Sundown was fast approaching and Rabbi Levi began to make her way to the synagogue. A gentle reminder call had been given to her, just to nudge her ever so slightly out the door. And, as she walked, she was amazed to find one of her congregants holding the exact item she had just realized she had been missing. She took it from them and continued along her way, until just a moment later she was greeted by yet another congregant, and on and on.
The plan worked to perfection, and, miracle of miracles, Rabbi Levi, for the first time in her career, arrived precisely on time. She went into the synagogue, put her prayer book down on the pulpit, began to say the blessing over her Tallis, and then opened her eyes to what she expected was a full congregation. There was only one problem, all of the people of Chelm were outside in their assigned check points. The Great Reform-Reconstructionist synagogue was completely empty. Rabbi Levi promptly looked at her watch, saw she was on-time, then proceeded to pack up her tallis and prayer book, and make her way back home to have her Shabbat meal.
I stand in front of you tonight, in much the same way Rabbi Levi did in the story. All the proper steps have been taken, the plan has worked to perfection, and, yet, you, my beloved Shir Shalom community, are nowhere to be found.
This is what it means to be celebrating our holiest of days in the middle of a pandemic. We try as hard as we can, but no matter what we do, the things we most want to happen, are naught to be. We have two possible solutions: we could cry and just give up, or we can reconsider our planning altogether and do only what is possible. Celebrating the things that we can celebrate, and mourning the things that we need to mourn.
My dear congregants, no matter how hard Cantor Frank, Joanne, Bruce, Paul, Shari Jo (who is here to blow the shofar), and I try, we cannot possibly get the outcome we most desire: a High Holy Days together in our most sacred place, our synagogue building.
But, do not despair, we, as always, will prioritize safety first, and after that, connection. It may not be perfect, but if you are watching this at all, you are connected. And, we are very grateful for that fact. We hope that you will continue to tune in and make this High Holy Days something to truly celebrate. For, the women of Chelm may not have gotten the exact outcome they were hoping for, but the cooperation and camaraderie they developed was priceless. And, so is ours.
A sweet and happy New Year to you and yours. A Shanah Tovah U’Metukah. Thank you for joining us along the way. – Rabbi Alex