I have been concerned lately with all the disagreements in our communities, and about the toll they take. As is so often the case, there is a rabbinic story that can teach us. It gets to the question of how to disagree without damaging our most precious of relationships. I would like to share it with you.

The story is told:

For three years, there was a dispute between the School of Shammai and the School of Hillel, the former asserting, "The law (halakhah) is according to our view," and the latter asserting, "The law is according to our view." Then, a voice issued from heaven announcing, "Both these and these are the words of the living God, but the law is in agreement with the School of Hillel. But [it was asked], since both are the words of the living God, for what reason was the School of Hillel entitled to have the law determined according to their ruling? Because they were kindly and humble, and because they studied their own rulings and those of the School of Shammai, and even mentioned the teachings of the School of Shammai before their own. (Eruvin 13b)

We are reminded here that, while disagreements are necessary, even holy ways of searching for truth, we must be careful with how we argue. We must always strive to be "kindly and humble" especially in our disputes. Our behavior matters, our treatment of each other matters.

It is not enough to just be right. We must be righteous as well.

If we are not, we may pull apart our country, our people, our synagogue and, if we are not careful, our own hearts.

At the root of all Jewish life is a radical assertion: that ancient texts, in a language few can read fluently, can have a daily impact on our modern lives. The basic assumption is that the stories and personalities from ancient times can still speak to us today in a meaningful way. We are used to looking for this kind of guidance at big, transitional moments, like celebrating or mourning together. But for Judaism to be truly meaningful, then these connections need to be more frequent. Over the next year, I would like to explore different ways that the ancient wisdom of Judaism can be applied to our lives today, beginning with Jewish views on leadership.
Jewish leadership is not just about leadership within a Jewish context, it is using Jewish values to improve our leadership at work, school, and during volunteer activities. The following frameworks can provide examples and inspiration for becoming leaders in whatever context we choose to use them. Each of these four Jewish Leadership Values is supported by a text.

Jewish leadership is collaborative. Part of leadership is the recognition that good ideas can come from many directions, and Jewish leadership values remind us to involve others in the decision making process. Having a variety of divergent views is the best way to create a plan and to solve problems. This idea is based on a phrase from the Talmud (Eruvin 13a) that solves a particularly heated discussion with the phrase Elu vElu divrei Elohim hayim "These and these are words of the Living God" indicating that all opinions have truth in them. We as leaders, using Jewish values, should always keep this in mind.

Jewish leadership recognizes a single decision maker. After the collaboration and the seeking of a variety of opinions, there needs to be a decision. The role of the leader is to guide these decisions, always keeping in mind the big picture and the larger vision and goals. We see an example of this in the Creation story. God creates "the two great luminaries: one to rule the day and one to rule the night, and the stars." (Genesis 1:16) The great medieval commentator Rashi notes that originally both the sun and moon were created the same size, but then the sun was made bigger because "it is impossible for two kings to use the same crown."

Jewish leadership is conducted respectfully. There is conflict in every organization and in every situation where we are engaged as leaders. Jewish tradition does not shy away from such conflicts, as the old joke reminds us: "two Jews, three opinions." Jewish leadership also acknowledges the importance of conflict as long as it is done in a respectful manner. One of the clearest examples that tradition provides is the way that competing religious schools of thought, led by Rabbi Hillel and Rabbi Shammi, got along. These teachers and their students disagreed about many points of Jewish law, and each was a strong advocate for their own positions. Despite this, they were very respectful of each other, speaking kindly to and about one another, often quoting the opposing view before their own, and always able to break bread together. Our government used to work this way. It is said that President Reagan and Speaker Tip O Neal "broke bread together" in the evening despite the many disagreements during the working day.

Pirki Avot characterizes this relationship as machlokot leShem Shamyaim, that is "arguments for the sake of Heaven." Their disagreements were focused on finding the best answer rather than personal, ego driven attacks.

Focus on the overall vision is the fourth Jewish leadership value. Without a strong vision, no group or organization can function for very long. Knowing where you are going is necessary to getting there, and is especially necessary to avoid being distracted on the way. We all know how easy it is to lose focus, and one of the roles of a Jewish leader is to keep reminding others of the overall vision. According to the Torah, the overall vision of Judaism is given to Avram very early on: veHeyeh bracha, that we should "be a blessing" to the world around us. (Genesis 12:2). This directive from God helps to focus the entire future of Judaism, reminding us to this day that we are here to make the world a better place. On way fulfill this vision today is to use these Jewish leadership values in every aspect of our lives.

We often see the modern world - so full of amazing technology and constant connection - as being in conflict with an active, meaningful, and spiritual existence. While it is true that our modern lives may provide new challenges to our Jewish connections, there are times when the two overlap in a meaningful, helpful way. I would like to share one such intersection, and the way it reinforced a very important Jewish value.

Before the High Holidays this year, I downloaded an app called Photo365 to my phone. It is a kind of visual diary, that allows me to take a picture a day, along with comments. The display is a simple calendar, with each day represented by the picture I take, and notes I make. Thus I can easily look at the entire month and see what happened when. It is by no means a complete record, but does provide an interesting way to show the most important event that happens each day. This allows me to quickly and privately store a visual memory, with far less effort than a full fledged diary.

I have discovered, after using it for a few months, that simply being aware of how I spend my time can change the character of a particular day. Trying to capture one picture that represents a 24 hour period, has helped me to look into each day for a positive, unique, defining moment. Even the otherwise mundane days can have special moments. It has also forced me to start each day looking for that unique picture. I find myself defining my day from the moment I wake up, rather than reflecting on what happened each evening. Using this app has also made me realize how quickly events pass from active memory. I can glance at the calendar and discover, for example, that it has only been a month since Yom Kippur, and two months since it was 90 degrees. Taking these pictures has given me a sense of perspective and taught me how I can set the tone each day and how I spend my time.

Jewish tradition realized this centuries before there were smartphones. In Psalm 90 verse12, we are advised to, ". . . know how to count our days rightly, that we may obtain a wise heart." Each of us can "count our days rightly" by positively shaping each day at sunrise, and reviewing it each evening. Rabbi Benjamin Segal advocates for an "awareness of the brevity of life and a good use of the time granted." Or, as Gandalf the Grey puts it in J. R. R. Tolkien's epic The Lord of the Rings: "All you have to do is decide what to do with the time given to you."

We are even more aware of time this month, as we celebrate Hanukkah, which is all about counting. We demonstrate a positive view of time by counting up, adding one candle each night, as we increase the light and the holiness in our homes. We also reflect the faith of our ancestors, who lit the candles in an attempt to rededicate a nearly destroyed Temple, by lighting the Hanukah menorah. They did not know that the oil would last for the entire eight days that it would take to prepare a fresh supply. All they knew was that they had to take action to define their day, and to bring light into the world.

Counting our days in order to attain a wise heart, is not about what tools we use, but the approach we have, as we meet the challenge of each new day. We can take the time to pause each morning, and then again several times each day, to ask: "What one moment do I want to remember and define today?"

This approach and discipline will help create a more positive connection to each day. And it is the best use of technology, to enable us not just connect quickly for twitter updates, but to help us connect deeply to our most important values.

The joyous and engaging Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services this year were made possible by the dedication of Temple of Aaron staff, and the devotion of member volunteers. I want to begin by thanking the choir. Since we left slavery in Egypt and Miriam taught us to sing our praises to God, music has been central to worship and community. Thanks to those who helped uplift our services this year, Choir Director Tom Bartsch and members: Betty Agranoff, Sue Flynn, Beth Ballinger, Amy Miller-Stern, Emily Skadron, Doris Rubenstein, Jenni Schwartz, Ellie Bier, Marsha Schwartz, Jerry Schwartz, Dan Spector, Elliot Stern, Howard Bell, Hugh Gitlin, Mike Bell, David Baldinger, Josh Fineblum, and George Bier.

Torah reading for the High Holidays expertly arranged by Wendy Kane. David Baldinger and Jim Berg blew shofar for us. Linda Eisenstadt prepared and labeled the High Holiday ticket mailing to synagogue members. Terry Zien and Lynne Bell coordinated member participation on the bima. Thanks to all.

The Bima Team of Hazzan Kowitz, Rabbi Barry Cytron, Ritual Coordinator, Larry Eisenstadt worked diligently to provide engaging services that found a balance of music, prayer and participation, in both English and Hebrew.

Hard work and continued striving for improvement are hallmarks of the synagogue staff. Thanks to: Part-Time Kitchen Supervisor, Svetlana Kazistova, and Tanya Soroka, Executive Director Ken Agranoff, Business Manager Shelley Diamond, Administrative Assistant Kim Thomey, Ritual/Clergy Assistant Katherine Berg. The building is maintained by Bill Jorke and his staff: Todd Jones, Todd Schmidt, Jim Markus.

The Education and Youth Team continues to build a program to educate the next generation, and coordinated youth services, programs and projects that run alongside the main service. Thank you to Director of Education Joshua Fineblum and Youth Director Robby Erlich and Administrative Assistant Susie Haim. Thank you to Wendy Baldinger for her help leading the Young Family services on both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
Thank you to: Lindsay Berg, Shari Lowenthal, for coordinating youth art and and services, Janet, Samantha and David Zylberberg for taking care of babysitting during services, and Elliott Stern, Matt Bernick and Joe Lane for planning and leading the teen services.

During the Second Day of Rosh Hashanah, several of our students who visited Israel this past year shared their experiences with us from the bima. Thank you to: Andy Bernick, Matt Bernick, Ezra Strohm, Elliot Stern, Gilad Segal, Susan Balto, Morgan Werthauser, Sonya Rosen, Natalie Baldinger, Sophie Gotlieb, Sophie Burton, Maddie Gleekel, Mike Kowitz, and Max Lowenthal.

As we ended Yom Kippur this year, the entire congregation had an opportunity to do the first mitzvah of the new year by beginning to assemble the synagogue sukkah. Thank you to all who participated, to the Men’s Club and to Matt Clark for coordinating the project.

At the center of the creativity, diversity and joy that are hallmarks of the Temple of Aaron are the people who contribute so much to make this community strong. Thank you all. May 5772 be a joyous year for everyone.

We all know the basic principal of Jewish math: "Two Jews, three opinions." This is especially true for rabbis, as one of our central roles is to teach and inspire using words, most often in the form of formal sermons.

The role of sermons over the past centuries of Jewish life has changed, but the central goal has not. I would like to present a brief review of the history of sermons in Judaism, and offer a preview of this year's High Holiday sermons at the Temple of Aaron.

Why Sermons ?

Each sermon (by whatever name we call it: D'var Torah/vort/teaching/class/discussion) is an opportunity to connect the ancient texts and traditions of Judaism with the souls of those who are listening. Sermons are like fresh mortar between the ancient bricks of belief that strengthen our relationship with each other, with God and with the best within ourselves. This is truly a holy task and at the center of what it means to be a rabbi.

A Brief History

Rabbi Loius Jacobs explains the origins of our sermons in his book, The Jewish Religion: A Companion: "That sermons were delivered in the synagogue, especially on Sabbaths and the festivals, from early Rabbinic times, is attested in numerous Midrashim [rabbinic stories]. It would seem that the later Midrashim had their origin in sermons, although the Midrashim themselves bear all the marks of literary productions in their own right.

The usual preaching method, until the modern period, was to take scriptural verses out of context and to apply them to the religious and ethical questions of the preacher's time. This method of scriptural application became known as derush (from a root meaning 'to search' or 'to enquire') and the sermon became known as a derashah (from the same root, as is the word Midrash itself). Preachers were known as Darshanim or Maggidim ('Speakers' or 'Tellers').
Again, until modern times, the function of preaching belonged not to the Rabbi of a town but to the special class of preachers, usually learned men but not necessarily well versed in the practical Halakah.

In Eastern Europe, Maggidim would wander from town to town to preach in the synagogue, attracting the masses by their popular, homely expositions liberally sprinkled with proverbs, folk-tales, and illustrations from the daily life of their audiences."

As modern congregations evolved, so to did rabbis and their sermons: "The new type of sermon was more formal and in the vernacular, and it became a regular part of the service. The modern sermon is also based on a scriptural verse, usually taken from the portion of the weekly Torah reading, but treats a particular theme in systematic fashion and its aim is more one of edification rather than instruction.

The modern type of sermon became the norm in England and in the USA. Even in Eastern Europe in the nineteenth century, where the art of the old Maggidim still flourished, the sermons in Yiddish were often more sophisticated than in the past and more relevant to the burning social and political issues of the day."

High Holyday Sermons

For High Holydays, rabbis across the Jewish world seek to find a way to address, in a relevant way, the burning modern issues. It is with this in mind that I am crafting sermons for Temple of Aaron's celebration of the Jewish New Year, which begins September 28th. For Erev Rosh Hashanah, "The Four Rules of Ice Cream" which will look at how we express gratitude for those around us; On the first day of Rosh Hashanah, I will speak on "Have A Little Faith" based on the slim but powerful new book by the same title by Mitch Albom. On the second day, as part of our creative service, my sermon will be entitled "Tough Love: Our Relationship with Israel."

Erev Yom Kippur we will look at the question of "What Must We Let Go of To Move Forward" as we begin the intensity of fasting and self-examination, and continue on that theme on Yom Kippur day with "The Only Question We Only Need Ask."

I look forward to seeing you over the holydays as we join in the tradition of coming together; connecting though and, learning from, words.

As I write this, we are weeks into the State of Minnesota's government shut down. After reading the media coverage, and speaking with family and synagogue members who are out of work because of it, I am struck by the way our elected officials express the conflict in terms of competing values, and the importance of sticking to these values no matter what.

The deep traditions of Judaism certainly have much to say about the importance sticking to our values. Ethical behavior is at the core of being Jewish, and we have a long history of standing by these values even when the prevailing culture challenged and even oppressed us because of them.

But compromise is important also. In Judaism we speak of Shalom Bayit; acting to ensure that our home is a place of peace and refuge. We are asked to behave in a way that puts our own needs second for the sake of others.

Yet, how much compromise should make? Our values are important and we cannot simply abandon them or they end up being meaningless. Having values means we stick to them even when they are not easy. So the question is, which is more important, sticking to our values, or compromise? To find the answer, we look to our texts and traditions.

When it comes to doing everything possible to encourage compromise, there is no better example than Aaron the High Priest. The following story is told about him:

"When Aaron saw two people involved in a quarrel, he would say to each of them, without the knowledge of the other, 'My child, see how your friend is berating himself with remorse because of what he did to you? He asked me to approach you to seek your forgiveness.' When the two would meet, their quarrel would disappear and they would embrace." (Avot dRabbi Natan)

Aaron would go to great lengths to push for a compromise from both sides in order to end fights; even going so far as to tell a white lie. This clearly argues for the putting a good solution, one that leads to good relations, above all else.

But there is a limit in Jewish tradition to how far we go. A small lie, like the one Aaron tells is one thing, but we cannot compromise all of our values. This limit is expressed in the Talmud by asking the question: are we expected to pay the ultimate sacrifice for our values?

"Rabbi Johanan said in the name of Rabbi Simeon ben Jehozadak: By a majority vote, it was resolved in the upper chambers of the house of Nithza in Lydda that in every [other] law of the Torah, if a man is commanded: 'Transgress and suffer not death' he may transgress and not suffer death, excepting idolatry, incest, [which includes adultery] and murder." (Sanhedrin 74a)

Tradition teaches that there are times we stick by our values to the point of great sacrifice, but very few times. Of all the 613 mitzvot, there are only three for which we are permitted to give our life. This extreme example demonstrates that the value of compromise often takes precedence.

My colleague Rabbi Robert Scheinberg comments on the verse from Deuteronomy 16:20: "tzedek tzedek tirdof / Justice, Justice you shall peruse" and asks why the repetition of the word justice?

"The first time that the word 'tzedek' is mentioned, that means that you should follow strict justice. You should be strongly principled. And the second use of the word 'tzedek' - that word refers to compromise.

And then the Talmud goes on to present some scenarios. Two camels are approaching each other, in opposite directions, on a narrow mountain pass, and they can't both get through, someone's going to need to back up so that the other one can get by. Two boats are approaching each other, in opposite directions, in a narrow canal, and one boat will need to back up so the other can get by. Sometimes it's clear which one should back up and defer to the other, for example, if one boat is full, and one boat is empty, it makes sense for the empty boat to back up, and defer to the boat that is full of people or cargo. But sometimes the two boats, or the two camels, are both 'in the right,' there's no obvious choice which one should defer to the other. So in such a case, if you adopt the perspective of strict justice, they both will stay exactly where they are, and neither one will back up, and you have gridlock, and because of their strong adherence to justice, neither boat gets where it's going. The only way they will actually get where they are trying to go is if they develop some kind of compromise. For example, one camel, or one boat, backs up, allowing the other camel, or boat, to proceed, and then if necessary gives some kind of small compensation to the one who backed up, so everyone's happy.

The medieval commentator Rashi wrote on this section in the Talmud: 'You shall pursue justice when it's appropriate, and pursue compromise when compromise is appropriate, and you shouldn't pursue one of these more than the other.' In other words, if you are finding that you are always compromising, you may not be sticking strongly enough to your principles. But if you are finding that you are rarely compromising, then you need to show some more humility.

As with so much in Judaism, the key here is finding the balance between not compromising our values, and the value of compromise. May we all find that balance soon.

Rabbis have, throughout Jewish history, spoken often of community, and the importance of each individual being an active part. The great Rabbi Hillel warns that we should "not to separate ourselves from the community." (Avot 2:4) And when we speak about community, we often look at the large, defining events; the joys and the sorrows, the celebrations and the memorials. And these are important; we all benefit by sharing in our joys and supporting one another during our losses.

But we miss an essential aspect of community if we only focus on these large, transition events. We may inadvertently neglect the smaller, more frequent ways we can connect with each other, with our tradition, and with the best within our selves. I would like to offer you one way we each can be a very important part of the part of both the Temple of Aaron community, and the larger community of active Jews.

Sandy & Elizabeth Latts are fellow members with a request to help their daughter Lisa who is in need of a live donation. Please read their letter below, and consider this as one of many opportunities we can all become more involved, and strengthen our community.

Our daughter Lisa always wanted to be a mom. Last year, we were thrilled and excited to hear she was pregnant with twins. Lisa's medical specialty is at-risk pregnancies and during her own pregnancy, she did everything right -- then everything went horribly wrong. Lisa developed HELLP syndrome and had an emergency C-section. She delivered two beautiful babies, Sophie and Daniel, and although they were early and small, they did wonderfully. After the delivery, Lisa's condition quickly deteriorated and she was rushed to the ICU where she remained near death for 5 weeks. She was intubated, sedated and given more than 100 units of blood products for massive internal bleeding. She developed kidney failure and required daily dialysis and plasma exchange. She survived unimaginable odds and recovered from everything but the kidney failure. Finally, she took her babies home and we prayed that she was on her way to full recovery; we were devastated to learn that her kidneys would not recover. Her life is now filled with anxiety, discomfort and fear for the future. Three days a week, for four hours a day, she is being kept alive through dialysis treatments. She is on an extremely restrictive diet and must take a multitude of medications to manage her heath issues. Lisa can be healed, but she needs a kidney transplant. Only a transplant will allow her to get off dialysis and regain her health and her life so she can see her babies grow.

Lisa is on the wait list for a deceased donor kidney, but that will likely take 3-4 years. It is essential that Lisa find a living donor. A kidney from a living donor will last much longer and enable her to care for her children - guide their first steps, teach them to ride bikes, and watch them graduate from high school - all while working full time as a caring physician. Because of all the blood transfusions, she has many antibodies in her blood and therefore, most potential donors will not match. Several volunteers have already been tested and they are not suitable matches. For that reason, we need a large pool of donors in order to find a match that will work.

The transplant center at the University of Colorado Hospital (UCH) will coordinate all the necessary testing, which can be done in the potential donor's home community. An ideal donor will be in good health, between ages 18 and 60, with no history of diabetes or high blood pressure. There is no cost to the donor for testing or any part of the transplant process, including travel.

Donating a kidney is a major decision. The National Kidney Foundation's web site http://www.kidney.org/transplantation/livingDonors/info.cfm or http://www.transplantliving.org/livingdonation/ are good sources of information if you want to learn more.

If you think you are interested in donating a kidney to Lisa or if you would like more information, please send a message to akidneyforlisa@yahoo.com. Little Sophie and Daniel are thriving - growing, eating and smiling. They are beautiful! Lisa is a remarkably brave and resilient woman, but every day is a challenge. The twins need their mom! Please help keep Lisa in their life by considering a kidney donation.

A rare opportunity has landed in our laps. The Dead Sea Scrolls have made the journey from the caves next to the Dead Sea to the shores of the Mississippi, and are available to view at the Science Museum of Minnesota until the end of October.

These ancient fragments of texts are a tangible connection with our past. The Hebrew letters, while faded, are instantly recognizable. The verses, some from the book of Isaiah and some from Psalms, can be found in any modern Tanach (Hebrew Bible volume.) Seeing a piece of parchment from 2,000 years ago, and knowing that it matches the books Jews across the world read from and pray with daily, is a spine chilling experience.

The exhibit space at the Science Museum in St. Paul is well designed and full of educational resources designed to engage the entire family. In addition to the text fragments, there are videos, displays, activities and models. One of the Temple of Aaron's own Torah scrolls is also on display, along with an extensive look at the newly created St. John's Bible.

I encourage everyone to view the scrolls while they are in the St. Paul. And I would be interested to hear what you think.

The story is told about a new rabbi who comes to a congregation, and a the first ser-vice he notices that half the congregation stands up for the shema, and half the people sit down for it. At the Kiddush following services, a loud argument breaks out between those who sit and those who stand. Frustrated, the new rabbi seeks the council of the rabbi emeritus, asking: “What’s the tradition at this synagogue? Half the people stand and half the people sit, and everyone fights about it!” “That” replies the rabbi emeritus “is the tradition here!”

The word tradition means different things to each of us. For some it is a word of com-fort, for others it feels like a blunt instrument used to keep us in line. And, when we point to something and call it a tradition, there is often disagreement as to both it’s origins and level of authority. Do we follow it simply because it is a tradition, or do we dismiss it out of hand. In order to better answer these kinds of questions, I want to explore three aspects of tradition as I see it.

Tradition as Evolving
The single most important thing that we must remember about “tradition” is that it is a moving target. What we call tradition has changed over the years adapting to what will help each generation to connect to their Judaism. It is not that there are different traditions, but that, at different times in our history we can see and understand different aspects. We are not to blindly follow a tradition as one would for assembling a bookshelf from Ikea. We are to engage the tradition with all our modern sensibilities and knowledge, allowing the interaction of them to guide us.

Tradition as Inheritance
While a bit awkward to say, it may be more accurate to refer to tradition as “Our Jewish Tradition.” This emphasizes the fact that the tradition is ours, handed down from our ancestors, and traceable all the way back to the encounter with God at Mt. Sinai. If our family has been Jewish for generations, if we just joined the Jews people last month, it is equally ours. At some times of our lives, this can feel like a heavy, confining burden. At other times it is a comfortable place to return to when we feel lost. In the sweep of Jewish history, it is both. No matter how we are relating to it, the essential key is that we do relate to it.

Our Jewish Tradition calls us “b’nai Yisrael” Not just “children of Israel” as a literal translation would have it, more significantly, those who wrestle with tradition as Jacob did with the angel just before he received the name Yisrael.

Tradition as Toolkit
I am amazed, every time our handyman comes to the house to make a repair, just how many tools he brings. While each time he only uses a fraction, he never knows just which he will need. Even when the job is clear and simple, it seems that some-thing always comes up that requires he go to his truck for a different tool.
It is the same with our Jewish life. If we look upon Our Jewish Tradition as a toolkit then we can approach it with a variety of needs, and always return with just the right tool. If we are in pain, our tradition can help, when we are celebrating, our tradition can help, when we seek answers, guidance or connection, our tradition can help.

The Bottom Line
The thing of it is, it is not so important that we all mean something different when we talk about “tradition,” because Jewish tradition is broad and deep enough to encompass all our meanings. We have at our hands an inexhaustible resource of creativity and guidance just waiting for us to claim and to utilize. The Temple of Aaron is here to help. That’s our tradition.

There is an old joke, well worn, but still worth repeating. It involves a Jewish man stranded alone on a desert island for many years. When a Coast Guard ship finally rescues him, he shows the captain around the island. He shows him how he collected rainwater to drink, how he made nets to catch fish, and how he made a safe place to live. He also shows him the two synagogues he built. When asked by the captain: “Why two synagogues when there is only one of you?” the man replies: “This is the one I pray in, and this is the one I would never set foot in.”

Despite being an exaggeration, this joke contains truth. It gets to the heart of the difficulty we, as Jews, seem to have with prayer. Despite it’s centrality to Jewish identity, prayer is difficult. It is difficult for us to work with the Hebrew to find meaning. It is difficult to find the necessary time and discipline, and it is a struggle and a challenge to let our-selves go enough to find meaning and connection.

But we cannot let the difficulty get in our way. Prayer is ours. We can shape it and restructure it to meet our needs. If we are not being deeply moved by our praying, then we should be fundamentally changing the way we pray.

We at the Temple of Aaron are in the process of reviewing how we currently pray, and exploring new and more meaningful ways. We are lucky enough to stand at the crossroads of several forces: we are in the middle of the congregant led strategic planning
process; we live in modern times where the gates of prayer are open to new and innovate elements; and we are at the point in the lifecycle of our synagogue community where these elements are necessary to engage us in the wonders and power of Jewish prayer.

For the life of the synagogue; for us as individual Jews, it is time for a radical reinterpretation of how we pray.

In order to do this, I want to clear up a common misconception. There is a perception that prayer is so holy we cannot touch it, that it is either too powerful or so far beyond us that we cannot engage it and mold it.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. Yes, prayer is holy; but only in so far as it is a gateway into bringing holiness into our lives. And the truth is, everything can be holy, every moment has a gateway, and every moment is potentially holy.

Prayer is not a static entity, and it never has been. There are structures and words passed on by our tradition that are here to help us, not hinder us. The texts of the prayer book should be a solid rock that we can launch ourselves from, not a stone that weighs us down. But these words and forms must be combined with our needs today. Both must give to support the other. Just as there are many ways to be Jewish, there are many ways to pray Jewishly.

That is why we are so lucky to be a part of the ToA at this time. We have the
opportunity to shape our prayer experience. There are several places you can join in:

The L’Atid Strategic Planning has a focus group working just on prayer;

Our Ritual Committee is always concerned with improving the prayer experience;
Come to Shabbat services or daily minyan, and then speak with clergy afterwards about what worked and what didn’t;
Or simply make an appointment and share your thoughts with us.

By being a part of the conversation, we can transform prayer in our own lives right now, and at the Temple of Aaron for the future.