As presented by Janna Gabel

             Good Shabbos and good yuntif, Rabbi Vernon, Cantor Rosner, everyone.

            Each year, when I first walk into services on the High Holidays, I’ve just come off a hectic and harried week of cooking, cleaning, and clearing the calendar of errands and appointments.  The pressures of everyday living are still upon me, and it has not yet sunk in that I am finally in a place where I can clear my mind and spend some time in a spiritual state.  Shaking off the last few lingering thoughts of all I’ve been doing and things I may have left undone, I wonder to myself, “How do I begin this process?  What exactly am I doing here?”

            And then I pick up the prayerbook, my machzor, and open to the first page, where every year I find my answer…in a poem.  It is there that I read:

                “This book of prayers, old and stained with tears, I take into my hand,

                 And unto the G-d of my fathers, Who from ages past has been their

                 Rock and Refuge, I call in my distress.  In ancient words, seared with

                 the pain of generations, I pour out my woe.”

            In those few words, I am abruptly reminded of the trials and obstacles of the previous year.  I am transported back to my first High Holiday yizkor after the passing of my beloved mother, who used to sit in these pews with me, and I am stung once again with the pain of her absence.  I remember how my own tears fell upon my prayerbook.   I look at the book in my hands and see the comforting Hebrew letters forming the ancient prayers that we hope will ascend to heaven, beseeching G-d to judge us favorably even though we have been all too human.  I smell the familiar musty odor of the prayerbook caused by all the time it’s spent in storage, awaiting this season of awe, and am reminded of all the regrets and missed opportunities that have similarly been stored up inside me until this moment.   And then I know exactly why I am here.

            And that, I know, is the common denominator for all of us here today.  We are all aware of our humanity, our shortcomings, our flaws, and our reluctance to admit them – yet we plead for G-d’s patience and forbearance, for more time to better ourselves.  We have experienced loss in our own lives, and we know that time is a commodity promised to no one.

            There is a story of a Reb Simcha Bunim of Pishishka who would give each person a New Year greeting that he or she be inscribed for a good year, and then he would add, “I can’t imagine this world without you.”  Isn’t that a wonderful, endearing – and empowering – statement?  In just that way, each of us is an essential part of this day, this service, these prayers.   Together, we create a kehilla kedosha, a sacred community.  And we gather here in this beautiful, inspiring place, our Jewish Community Center of West Hempstead, with its years of history, of tradition, and of faithful service to this community.

            I love this place, with its beautiful stained-glass windows that refract the rays of sunlight into a million brilliant colors to dazzle the eyes.  I love these pews, because they have creaked joyously to share my simchas as well as sighed in compassion when I sat here in sorrow or anguish.  I love its big brass front doors, through which I have come to find knowledge, spirituality, and a comforting sense of belonging.  It’s not just a part of my life – it’s the very fabric of my life.

            And its congregation – you are my neighbors, my friends, my fellow Jews.  We live side by side, sit elbow to elbow, volunteer hand in hand.  You offer me a warm handshake on Shabbat, wish me mazel tov when I celebrate, embrace me when I most need support.

            Will you do the same for the shul that does the same for us?

            This building shelters our congregation, warms us on frosty days, cools us in summer’s heat, and inspires us with its places of sacred beauty.  It is a part of each minyan, each Shabbat and holiday, each celebration and commemoration.    It may be an older building that needs upkeep and care, but without it, we are orphans without a home.

            This home of ours nurtures chavurahs – groups that meet regularly to learn about prayer, talk about current events, watch thought-provoking movies, or speak Hebrew or Yiddish – and new groups are being added all the time.  It is a home base for a vibrant Sisterhood, where you can take in a program on classic TV comedians or learn how to improve your memory, play Mah Jongg or Scrabble with friends over a pizza lunch or dinner, or join a book discussion.   And let’s not forget our terrific Mitzvah-of-the-Month activities which help feed the hungry, bring cheer to the hospitalized and provide help for the needy.   It’s home to our Men’s Club, the source of great events like baseball games and football pools, and where you can learn to wear tefillin with pride or get timely information on a variety of topics.   This is the place from which we took a trip to the Jewish Museum in Philadelphia, and where we will gather to get on a bus to Atlantic City from time to time.  Our Rabbi Vernon teaches short stories with Jewish themes for our semi-annual Mini-University, and later this fall, Cantor Rosner will resume teaching his weekly Sunday morning adult class on the weekly Torah portion or on upcoming holidays.

            A lot happens here.  We’re glad you’re a part of that.  If you’re not – well, you should be, because look at all you’re missing.

            If this building, this Jewish Community Center of West Hempstead, is your home, too – your house of prayer, your place for gathering with friends, your center for learning about all things Jewish – then I ask you to remember that home is where the heart is.  When our ushers come around with those little white donation envelopes, I ask that you return yours now with a pledge, and please be as generous as you can.  If you are thinking about it – please do your thinking here.  Look around at the faces of your neighbors and friends who are helping to keep our shul a beautiful, spiritual, vibrant place that is central to our Jewish community.  Be comforted by our Yizkor service and the honor it brings to the memory of your loved ones.  Stay till late afternoon to watch the setting sun stream through these windows and let it bring warmth and encouragement to your soul. 

            Just as Reb Simcha said to all he met, we, too, can’t imagine this world without you.  This place – our world – needs you, each and every one of you.  Your Yizkor donation, given in memory of those who you are here to remember and honor today, is a special blessing and a beautiful mitzvah fulfilled.

            Our sages taught, “It is not your duty to complete the work, but neither are you free to turn away from it.”  The very nature of a synagogue deals with unfinished business because it is about our ongoing lives – our hopes and fears, our worries and triumphs, even life and death itself.  We are all works in progress, just as is this building that houses us and the efforts we make to be of service to our congregation.  As we rise in a few moments to begin the Yizkor service, please also stand up for this shul, all we are and all we hope to be, with your Yizkor pledge.  Thank you, and may you and your loved ones be sealed in the Book of Life for a healthy, happy, and sweet New Year.

 

This message was delivered from the Bimah on Yom Kippur by the writer, who is the First Vice President of the JCC of West Hempstead.