FROM THE PRESIDENT
Message from the President of Rodeph Sholom
Peter H. Ehrenberg
Transcript
Thank you, Rabbi.
G’mar Tov, everyone. I hope that you are all well.
As this is my first opportunity to address the entire congregation as your President, I wanted to take a few moments to introduce myself. As the Rabbi said, my name is Peter Ehrenberg. My personal pronouns are he, him, and his.
My wife Camille and I have been members of the synagogue for approximately 25 years. Our two adult daughters, Hannah and Zoe, celebrated their B’not Mitzvah at Rodeph Sholom, and Camille and I both had the opportunities of participating in the Adult B’nai Mitzvah program, albeit ten years apart. While Camille and I regularly pray and study at the synagogue, our primary relationship to the synagogue over the years has been through social action, Camille through her leadership of E-advocacy, and me through my work with the Homeless Shelter, Backpack Buddies, and the Refugee Resettlement program, as well as both of our participation in the Minyan project. I also find my role as a regular volunteer at our Shireinu services to be an important part of my relationship with the synagogue.
I also have two children by a prior marriage, each of whom celebrated their B’nai Mitzvah at a synagogue in New Jersey, and I am delighted to be called “Poppy” by my two loving grandchildren.
My torah has been an ever-changing torah. I am a Baby Boomer. When I was born, the Allies had already defeated Hitler, but the newsreels continued to remind us of those atrocities. How could there possibly be a God if the Nazis did what they did?
When I was nine years old, on a Sunday morning as sunny as 9/11, my mother sat down next to me at my cousin’s house. And she said words that I will never, ever forget. She said, “Peter, you will never see your father again. He died two nights ago. I buried him this morning. I thought it would be too difficult for you to attend the funeral.” How could there possibly be a God who took my father from me and would not even let me say good-bye?
I wrestled with these questions for decades, largely going through the paces of being a Jew without full conviction, perhaps living some Jewish values, but without a real connection to my Jewish roots. Things changed for me about 15 years ago, when I read one of Rabbi Levine’s books, What God Can Do For You Now. In that book, he addresses my fundamental question about God. Rabbi Levine explains that the existence of evil and personal tragedy does not prove the absence of God. Instead, the existence of evil and personal tragedy demonstrates that God cannot do things alone, but instead needs our help to repair the world. As I read those words, a light bulb went off for me.
For decades, without knowing it, I was searching for a covenantal relationship with God. Thanks to Rabbi Levine and all of the other wonderful clergy at Rodeph Sholom, I have come to learn that through connections with other members of the synagogue, and by praying to God, I can lead a purposeful life as a believing Jew.
As a believing Jew, I face Kol Nidre every year with awe and, frankly, with a great deal of trepidation. For me, considering the Book of Life each year reminds me how precarious and precious life is. Each year, we ask ourselves what the next year will bring, without really knowing.
That uncertainty is exacerbated for us this year, as we face the pandemic. Just as one year ago, none of us could have foreseen the coronavirus, today, none of us can be certain how this awful virus will evolve, and how we’ll be able to get to the “other side” of this. With such uncertainty comes great anxiety.
In periods of uncertainty and anxiety, we look for places that enable us to feel secure, safe, and loved. In this regard, we are extremely fortunate to have our synagogue as our mainstay, our bedrock, our second home. As I wrote recently, while our sanctuary doors have been closed, our synagogue continues to be open to us in so many ways.
Our clergy spent their summers envisioning and then filming the extraordinary High Holy Days services that we are now participating in, while at the same time continuing to lead us in services, officiating in life cycle events, and providing us with the pastoral care that defines them. They have responded to amazing challenges—just imagine delivering an emotion-laden sermon, or singing the poignant melodies of the High Holy Days, in each case to an empty sanctuary. In more normal times, our clergy are able to look in our eyes and respond to our expressions. This year, they had no such prompts, they’ve imagined a remarkable and meaningful set of services through their brilliance.
Perhaps not as evident to you, because so much of their work is done behind the scenes, you should also know that our staff has worked tirelessly to make CRS available to each of us throughout the pandemic. When I assumed the role of President, one of the first things that I did was to interview each of the members of the senior staff. I observed three constants that have become more and more evident to me—each member of our senior staff is a true professional in what they do, each of them takes great pride in their work, and each of them is passionate in their love for our synagogue. Those qualities then are passed on to the rest of our staff, who reflect similar qualities, while at the same time fighting the struggles of the pandemic.
We have not tread water since this past March. Nor have we limited our focus to what life will look like on the other side of the pandemic. Our synagogue has evolved in so many different ways to assure that we each have access to all aspects of our Jewish identity. Our Shabbat services enable us to separate from the work week, connect with other members, and experience the joys of Shabbat through the words and songs of our rabbis and cantors. As you view our website, you will see that we are re-envisioning education for all ages—in our remarkable schools, and for pre-school and post-school learners—so that Jewish learning can continue to flourish. Even though we can’t yet operate our homeless shelter, or deliver backpacks, our social action teams continue to explore ways that we can make a difference, and repair our world.
Of course, all of this comes at a significant cost. This year, we face that cost in two additional ways borne out by the pandemic. First, there are expenses that we must incur this year to make sure that our building is safe for all of us who pass through our doors. We are graced by a wonderful building, but certainly not one that was built with the coronavirus in mind. Second, we know that this year there are many within our midst who are being challenged financially in ways that they never dreamed they could have imagined, resulting in lost jobs and diminished businesses. What does that mean for the rest of us? As you heard from my predecessors, we are only able to turn the lights on, pay our dedicated clergy and staff, and conduct our diverse and meaningful programming, through the generosity of our members. We count on our annual membership dues and our Yom Kippur Appeal to meet our operating expenses. In a year when we are challenged by new expenses and when some among us cannot contribute as they would like to, it falls upon the rest of us who are able to support our wonderful congregation, to do so. To pay our membership dues promptly, and make our YKA pledges and contributions in order to sustain all that we do, so that we may continue to pray with each other, learn from each other, and heal the world together.
We, as a people, have risen to the occasion so many times in the past. We have met adversity with dedication. We have met challenge with commitment. We have met crushing blows to our daily lives with both passion and compassion. I have no doubt that this wonderful community will continue to live our Jewish values and will help us preserve this synagogue that we love, our second home.
Thank you, and God bless you.