Vision Statement

My vision for my rabbinate is based on the following statement of faith: A Judaism with God at the center (1) invites us to know that our lives matter and (2) impels us to do the right thing in the world. This is the meaning of our Jewish story, that God freed the people Israel from Egypt so that we could be bearers of Torah.

“God freed the people Israel from Egypt”—our lives matter to God. Through Jewish ritual, God sends to every Jewish person a personally addressed invitation to feel God’s closeness. Here, in our hearts, we meet the God of feeling.

“So that we could be bearers of Torah”—God impels us to do the right thing in the world. We have an ethical responsibility—regardless of how we might feel in our hearts—to participate in advancing the human project. Here, in our minds, we meet the God of reason.

When our heart and our mind collaborate—when we recognize that the human being is an integrated whole—we encounter the God of feeling and of reason. In this encounter, “kindness and truth shall meet” (Ps. 85:11)—that is, we’ll know that our lives matter to God and we’ll feel impelled to do the right thing. With heart and head collaborating, we discover that our lives and our world can be more with Judaism than without it.

I envision my rabbinate standing on three pillars: teaching, preaching, and praying. I believe that Erev Shabbat worship is the bread-and-butter of what a congregational rabbi does. I believe that if Liberal Judaism isn’t serious about prayer, then Liberal Jews won’t be serious about Liberal Judaism. Through prayer, we continue to discover that our lives matter to God. When we address God in the second-person (atah), we may hear the Allness of Universe (God) address us in the first-person (Anochi)—a moment of Revelation. The following comparison may be helpful: the deepest part of our soul—where our detached self is still connected to its Source—is like a clear white light. Prayer is the practice of putting many colored gels over the clear light (blue for one prayer, green for another) so that by isolating individual colors, we may more easily identify the clear white Source. At its best, communal prayer enables the worshipper to connect not only to the clear white Source within him/herself, but also to the clear white Source that is within all things. This experience connects us to the Allness of the Universe (God), reminding us that our lives matter.

Teaching, preaching, and praying are all tools to remind us that our lives matter, but they are not ends in and of themselves. Knowing that our lives matter must impel us to do the right thing. Our tradition holds that “study is greater [than action], because study leads to action.” Action is the ultimate goal; study (and, by extension, prayer) enables us to discover why we must act. Study without action is meaningless; but similarly, action without study becomes a substitute faith, reducing the whole of Judaism to only ethics. Often, my Reform upbringing substituted ethics for Judaism. I was raised to care about particular issues—gun control, gender equality, Darfur, hunger—and although I dutifully rallied for these causes, I quickly lost enthusiasm for the stale explanation to do tikkun olam. As an adult, I have discovered that action is impelled by faith—that I stand not for a particular list of causes, but for a world in which “kindness and truth shall meet.” In this way, “study [and prayer] leads to action.” Study also enables us to discover how we might most effectively act. Study and prayer are the practice of noticing; by noticing how we show up in the world, we can learn to participate in our world more productively.

Judaism is unique in that it is both a people and a faith. I imagine two concentric circles, with Jewish faith at the center of the Jewish people. Many are content to identify only with the Jewish people; it is a synagogue’s role, and a rabbi’s role in particular, to help Jewish people also identify with Jewish faith—that is, to knowing that our lives matter to God and to doing the right thing.

Paradoxically, the secular State of Israel represents—among other things—a gateway through which Jewish people may come to identify with Jewish faith. I believe that Israel matters because: whatever Jewish is, it is in Israel—not to the exclusion of other places, but uniquely so in Israel. In many places around the world, particular aspects of Jewish life are thriving—religion, spirituality, culture, ethnicity, history, community. Only in Israel do all of these aspects cohere, plus the additional aspects of politics, power, and sovereignty. In Israel—and only in Israel—all these aspects of “whatever Jewish is” are by the very definition of a Jewish-democratic state forced to be in constant conversation with each other. The conversation centers on the question: to what extent should Jewish religion play a role in the governance of the State? And in this conversation, the Jewish people—who, outside of Israel, may easily choose the outer of the two concentric circles, the circle of identifying only with the Jewish people—must come face-to-face with the inner of the two concentric circles, the circle of identifying with Jewish faith (even if they believe that Jewish religion should have a minimal role in the governance of the State). In this way, Israel is—among other things—a tool for clarifying “what’s Jewish” about one’s Jewishness.

These are the contours of my vision of my rabbinate—that your life and your world can be more with Judaism than without it, because Judaism is the story of God freeing the people Israel from Egypt so that we could be bearers of Torah. As I continue to grow in experience and learning, I expect that this statement will continue to grow along with me.