Weekly Messages

Saying goodbye to someone is hard. It is exponentially harder when you know it is the last time you will speak to them.

As someone who is afforded a front row seat to many end-of-life moments, I have witnessed my share of loved ones saying goodbye at a bedside. It was easy to sense the upset, guilt and grief when death worked so speedily it did not afford a chance for a spoken farewell. That is the qualitative difference between a goodbye monologue and a goodbye dialogue.

In my life, of the four souls I mourn and miss daily, I have been afforded a goodbye monologue twice and never a goodbye dialogue. Not having those moments leaves an enormous void in my life and fills me with much I wish I could say and hear back.

In the portion of Nitzavm Vayalekh which we read this Shabbat, Moses reaches the point of the journey where he knows well his days are limited and he will not cross-over to the Promised Land of Canaan. He also is cognizant he will soon die. He takes this opportunity to begin his spoken farewell and leave his lessons and legacy with the Israelite people.

To read the text is to be fortified in Moses’ mission and resilience. To unpack the texts is to respect his acceptance of his lot in life and the profound blessing he is bestowed to share his sentiments before his time expires with his community. What a gift!

It is more than coincidence that this is the portion is always read the week before Rosh Hashanah. This is a time when all our fates lie in God’s all-knowing and all-powerful control. We are reminded of the pain and potency of regret for words left unspoken and forgiveness not yet achieved and to many monologues that could have been dialogues.

This is a time in our lives to hear Moses’ speech and glean lessons from his experience and to make sure that we engage in the valuable dialogue that is needed and necessary during this sacred time of the year.

Rabbi David-Seth Kirshner

After two months of rest, introspection, and important memories made and mile markers met with my family, it is time to leave my sabbatical-break and return to my Temple family and community.

I come back to you renewed and appreciative.

I spent the bulk of my time out of the country, in Israel, Egypt and Spain. In the middle of August, we helped our daughter move into college in Atlanta.

We then flew to Florida where I handled some important things for my mother’s estate. I will close my sabbatical on Labor Day in Detroit with my extended family at the unveiling of my mom’s memorial stone. It is a hard but necessary chapter in my almost one year of mourning her loss.

During this time away, I was reminded of the importance of family time, the value of our sacred community and the critical need for self care. All of this was made possible because of our community. I am eternally indebted and grateful.

It also would not have been possible without the professional excellence and capabilities of our talented clergy team and our dedicated office staff. I am especially grateful and proud of Rabbi Gabe Cohen for taking the mantle of leadership and spreading his wings during this time.

The Torah portion we will read this week is titled Ki Tavo. Coincidentally, it is all about reentering the land that was the Israelites to inhabit, and its community when they were exiled.

While not apples to apples, I too am excited to re-enter and be home with my Temple family and learn, grow, celebrate, mourn, challenge and explore together over the coming months and years.

This season is one when we blast the shofar each morning to prepare for our New Year. As we do, may we take stock of our blessings and even our losses, and may we appreciate the many gifts and embrace the challenges that shape our days and lives.

Wishing you a wonderful Labor Day holiday and blessings for a Shabbat Shalom.

Rabbi David-Seth Kirshner

There are few images in the Torah that convey the feeling of protection like the cloud that hovers over the camp of the Israelites as they ventured through the desert. Whenever the Israelites camped, whether it was two days, or a month or a year–God’s cloud would always be there to offer safety. They never had to worry about what might threaten them in the wilderness or wonder whether there was a danger of being attacked by outside forces. These natural elements–a cloud during the day and fire at night– were an assurance for our weary travelers that they could always rest easy knowing God was there to ensure their safety no matter what.

As we turn to Parashat Beha’lotcha this week, much of the US and Canada is blanketed in an unnatural pinkish gray from wildfire smoke that is filling the skies. It feels like a cruel ironic joke that this week’s Torah reading talks about these comforting clouds as we are in this scary haze. When we woke up this past Tuesday morning to an eerily red sun and a dull gray sky, we immediately knew that something was amiss. While we should be able to be outside enjoying the summer weather, we instead had to check local air quality, limit our outdoor activity and consider returning to masks. Our world was suddenly covered in a cloud that, unlike with God and the Israelites, made us feel unsafe and scared.

And so as we enter Shabbat in this haze with hopes that these conditions will soon dissipate, I want to share A Prayer for the Renewal of Creation with you, which was written by one of my rabbinic mentors, Rabbi Danny Nevins, and can be found in the pages of the Siddur Lev Shalem:

Master of the universe, in whose hand is the breath of all life and the soul of every person, grant us the gift of Shabbat, a day of rest from all our labors. With all of our senses may we perceive the glory of Your works. Fill us with Your goodness, that we may attest to Your great deeds. Strengthen us to become Your faithful partners, preserving the world for the sake of future generations. Adonai our God and God of our ancestors, may it be Your will to renew Your blessing of the world in our day, as You have done from the beginning of time.

We pray that the gray skies will speedily turn back to blue, that the fires that threaten our health and safety will soon abate, and that God will continue to offer us protection from all that threatens us. May we be partners with God in helping to preserve our world and ensuring its longevity, strength, and abundance.

Rabbi Gabe Cohen

“May God bless and protect you,

May God’s presence shine on you and be gracious to you,

May God bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace”

These three lines of the Priestly Blessing read this week in Parashat Nasso are some of the most enduring and iconic in all of Jewish history. Aside from being recited each day as part of our prayer services, they are best known as the blessing that some say under the chuppah, at a bris or baby naming, and most famously, as the blessing we give to our children with our hands on their heads every Friday night as Shabbat begins. We act as conduits of God to give blessings of protection and peace for those we care most in the world about.

The priestly blessing is also recited in a special way during morning services in Israel, and in some communities during the Jewish holidays, as the Kohanim stand before the ark and put their Tallitot over their heads to bestow this priestly blessing onto the congregation. In the introductory blessing that is part of this ritual, the Kohanim say, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has sanctified us with the sanctity of Aaron and commanded us to bless His people Israel with love”.

Rabbi Shai Held, writing about this part of priestly blessing, points out that this is the only blessing in all of Judaism that we are commanded to do with love. From that unique formulation, we learn about the nature of blessing others– especially those we care about deeply. Rabbi Held writes, “to bless someone by rote is to fail to bless them at all”. When we do something as important as blessing another person in God’s name, we can’t just go through the motions. It has to be an act done out of love.

With so much in my life, I find myself on autopilot–constantly busy and just trying to get from one task to the next as quickly as I can. But to do something out of love demands total presence. It means that we need to pause and act with intentionality and care. I know that this Shabbat, when I bless my son with the words of the priestly blessing–the very same words that have been said to Jewish children for countless generations–I will do it with all the love I can give.

Rabbi Gabe Cohen