Opening
This morning, the first thing I did was grab my phone and scroll – and unfortunately, it was a doom scroll, not a hope scroll as Rabbi suggested on Rosh Hashanah that we should all aspire to. I was bombarded with news about Israel’s war, antisemitism raging around the world, and the seemingly endless cycle of political division and discord. It came to me through social media, news alerts, and WhatsApp messages. I started my morning with a pit in my stomach, a heaviness hard to describe in words, and thus all the more isolating. Sadly, this feeling was not a new one. For the past two years, it has become my normal.
We all have different strategies to cope. We walk, meditate, bike, practice yoga. I love pilates and crossword puzzles. We pray — sometimes in the sanctuary or chapel, oftentimes quietly in our hearts as we go about our day. We do these things, and they help. But if we’re truly honest with ourselves, they don’t make the pit go away.
So what does? As the late relationship expert Dr. Sue Johnson often reminded us, humans are social mammals. Study after study confirms what our hearts already know… we are wired for connection. Connection to our spouses, family, and friends, to our community. Connection is the essential antidote to that pit.
A year ago, I stood here and told you that living a Jewish life was an important act of resistance to insidious antisemitism. That remains true, perhaps more than ever. But today, a year later, I want to focus on something equally powerful that living a Jewish life can provide: joy. The joy that flows from connection. The joy that comes from being part of a Jewish community — from our oneness as a people.
I often see this joy in the lives of my cousins in Israel. I chat with them and follow their lives on social media – at least the fun parts — my cousin Lihi’s wedding at the dairy moshav of her husband Shlomi’s family, vacations, trips with their kids to the beach, fancy cocktails with friends, leisurely time with family.
What I see is that Israelis are living their lives, in the midst of a war, finding joy where and when they can, with their extended community — living their lives as Jews who refuse to succumb to those who seek to destroy them. And I want that for all of us.
Judaism had figured out the importance of connection long before Dr. Sue Johnson’s research. It is a communal religion by design. We mourn together, we celebrate together, and even our prayers reflect this concept.
Vidui and Unity
Take the Vidui as an example. It is the confessional prayer we recite on these holy days, and it has us speak in the plural. It does not say I have sinned — it has us say ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu — we have sinned, we have betrayed, we have stolen. Our tradition teaches that we are all responsible for one another, that the failings of one touch us all.
We are not alone. And that is where the deepest joy of Jewish life comes from — knowing we are not alone, but bound together, finding strength and resilience in one another.
Differences Not Divisiveness
Yet, experiencing that joy — that beautiful sense of being bound together — isn’t always easy in practice. Despite our oneness as a people, the simple fact is that we don’t all think alike. You know the saying: put 100 Jews in a room, and you’ll get 100 opinions…and that often feels like an understatement! And sometimes — let’s be honest — our differences lead to conflict. We disagree over Israel, over politics, over how to practice our Judaism. We debate and argue, and that’s actually very Jewish of us. But we cannot let disagreement devolve into divisiveness.
We need perspective.
Over the past year, I read many statements from released hostages and hostage family members. Each and every one called for unity. I was particularly moved by the words of Eli Sharabi, shortly after being freed from Gaza — a shadow of his former self, yet still strong enough to say this:
“Sometimes, within the noise, in the division, in the shouting, we are forgetting the most basic thing: We are in this together. One blood. One heart. One. And when our enemy sees us as one, maybe it is time for us to see the same thing in ourselves. Because only together will we win. Straight up.”
If he could see this with such clarity in his darkest hour, surely we, in our freedom, can embrace it too.
Rabbi Treu often speaks of her desire for a “big tent” — a place where each person can bring their whole self, knowing there is space for individuality, while also acknowledging our deep connection to one another. We cannot let our differences get in the way of that joyful connection. Because without it, without each other, we lose the antidote to that isolating heaviness that I spoke of earlier.
My sincerest hope is that in this New Year, we will chart our path toward unity — not by thinking alike, but by listening deeply, and by remembering that we are, fundamentally, one people. Because it is only in that unity, in that connection, that we can truly access the joy of Jewish living.
Celebrating Judaism, L’dor V’dor
Together, we must celebrate our Judaism. We must cherish it. Teach your children, your grandchildren, your non-Jewish friends, what it means to be and to live as Jews.
I saw the power of this, in the pure voice of my 3-year old grandson Cooper. He attends preschool at Park Avenue Synagogue in New York. Last summer, in a beach house rental, I brought along a ziplock bag containing candlesticks, kippot, and a tie-dyed challah cover my daughter Nicole made when she was in preschool – I’m sure some of you have the same one at home. The bag sat on the kitchen table. Cooper pointed and said, “LoLo (that’s what he calls me), there’s Shabbat in there.”
And from the wonder in his voice, I knew that Gary and I might have done something right… that the cycle continues. But it only continues if we keep living it, teaching it, and celebrating it together.
How to Use Oheb
So my friends, that is why Oheb Shalom matters. This synagogue isn’t just a place to attend once or twice a year out of a feeling of obligation. It is a place to root your children and grandchildren in Jewish joy. To learn and grow as adults through study and discussion. To celebrate, to mourn, to mark joyous milestones with your Jewish community. To belong and feel connected as one Jewish people.
And it is because Oheb Shalom does matter, that it is essential we prioritize it, and that we support it. This year, instead of a Free Will Address on Rosh Hashanah, we shared an FAQ about synagogue finances. It dawned on us that many people don’t understand how the finances of Oheb work. I hope you saw it in your prayer book on Rosh Hashanah and in our newly printed Directory, and I hope you read it. It explains why our Annual Funding Appeal — a new name for our former Free Will Campaign — is critical to sustaining our sacred home.
We need your time, and your financial support, to ensure that Oheb Shalom continues to thrive for us and for generations to come.
Closing
So yes — it is difficult to be a Jew today. But it is also a blessing. Because when we carry one another through the heaviness, when we choose joy in Jewish living, we all come out stronger. My grandson Cooper saw the joy of celebrating Judaism in a ziplock bag; where do you see it?
My blessing for us this year is that you see it here at Oheb Shalom, so that we can pass this beautiful community from one generation to the next.
G’mar chatima tovah. May we all be inscribed in the book of life, and may it be a good and sweet and healthy year, for us, our families and our people all around the world.
