Beth El

Rabbi Ruberg's Latest Monthly Message

Rabbi Tendler's Latest Monthly Message

Cantor Piltch's Latest Monthly Message

A New “Who Knows One” for a New Decade

by Rabbi Arthur Ruberg

“Echad Mi Yodea” – Who Knows One? It is one of the best known and most popular Seder songs (particularly for those who get beyond the meal into the second half of the Haggadah). I enjoy the traditional Who Knows One?. But a little change, even in the familiar seder format, is always welcome. So in honor of a new decade, I suggest this new Who Knows One that I have written in a rare burst of creativity:

Who knows one? I know one. One is still our God in heaven and on earth.
Who knows two? I know two. Two is the number of times we dip during the seder.
Who knows three? I know three. Three is the number of matzot on the seder plate.
Who knows four? I know four. Four is the number of questions we ask during seder.
Who knows five? I know five. Five is the number of wine cups (including Elijah’s).
Who knows six? I know six. Six is the date in April of the last day of Pesach this year.
Who knows seven? I know seven. Seven is the number of our patriarchs and matriarchs combined (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah).
Who knows eight? I know eight. Eight is the number of days of Passover (outside of the land of Israel).
Who knows nine? I know nine. Nine is the number of verses of Had Gadya.
Who knows ten? I know ten. Ten is the number of plagues God set upon the Egyptians.
Who knows eleven? I know eleven. Eleven is the number of times we sing Dayenu in one chorus of the song.
Who knows twelve? I know twelve. Twelve is the hour when God smote the Egyptian first born.
Who knows thirteen? I know thirteen. Thirteen is of course the age of Bar Mitzvah.

How many of those “who knowses” could you figure out? I encourage all of us to make it as far as “who knows one?” in our seder celebrations this year. And if you do, feel free to use this one or the traditional one. Or better still, write your own.

Last Pesach, my family and I had seder in Norfolk General Hospital. The nurses all decided that we were having a party in my room and they wanted to be invited. Those sederim were unique, but I must admit that I am looking forward to this Pesach. Who wouldn’t prefer seder at home to seder in the hospital?

On behalf of Miriam and my children, I wish all of our members “Hag Sameach v’kasher,” a happy and meaningful Passover.

To reach Rabbi Ruberg by email, write to RabbiAR@bethelnorfolk.com.

Creating Sacred Community

by Rabbi Susan Tendler

I just re-read the first bulletin article that I wrote upon arrival in Norfolk and in the midst of meetings to launch our care committee, I think that it is appropriate to take a few moments and share with you my words from 3 years ago. The following is an excerpt from that article.

One of the most meaningful lectures I ever heard was delivered by Rabbi Roly Matalon of Manhattan’s Congregation B’nai Jeshrun (affectionately referred to as BJ) situated on the Upper West Side. For those of you who do not know, BJ has a reputation for being progressive, exciting, involved. It receives a lot of attention for the multitude of programs that it constantly runs and for attracting hundreds of people literally each Shabbat. Today it is difficult to conceive that twenty years ago B’nai Jeshrun had fewer than 100 members, the sanctuary was at risk of being auctioned, and the congregation rarely made a minyan.

What changed? Roly (in that community everyone is on a first-name basis) related that people often approach him and ask how they can duplicate the service, how can their synagogue incorporate the BJ model. What he shared was this: people are mistaken to believe that they can add music, switch to BJ tunes, dance in the aisles, and that this, in and of itself, will bring more people and make Shabbat a more meaningful experience for the community. It is not the service itself or the tunes themselves that make BJ so special— it is the community.

“How To Build A Sacred, Inclusive Community” was the topic of the lecture which Roly based in one of my favorite Jewish texts. The passage often recited in morning (Shacharit) prayers is as follows:

These are the deeds which yield immediate fruit and continue to yield fruit in the world to come: honoring one’s mother and father, doing deeds of loving kindness (gemilut hasidim), attending the house of study in the morning and evening, providing hospitality, visiting the sick, helping prepare the bride, attending to the dead...the study of Torah is the most basic of them all.

By using the Torah study as a guide, the leadership of B’nai Jeshrun created the thriving community that it is today. They set up programs for the elderly—people are set up with adopted “grandchildren,” who call before Shabbat, offer to bring chicken soup, and visit. The synagogue welcomes and includes people with special Shabbat lunches (BJ was ahead of its time in offering inclusivity through programs such as these lunches to AIDS patients almost two decades ago in hopes that they would promote healing). The sick are visited; the homebound are called and/or visited weekly; wedding dresses are donated for others; they have a well-organized chevrah kaddisha, and the list goes on. Each member is asked to commit to at least one area, to one project; and it is due to these programs and community participation that the community thrives. At its core, this is how BJ creates sacred community and what makes other synagogues want to replicate the B’nai Jeshrun experience.

All of that being said, we at Beth El are not necessarily trying to be anything other than the best and most supportive community that we can. We can organize ourselves to provide support, help, and community to those who are in need. Communal involvement in visiting the sick, offering comfort to those who lose a loved one, welcoming new babies to the community will bring us closer to one another, to Beth El, and to God. These are small, achievable steps we can organize to create a vibrant, viable, and sacred community. Kevin Tabakin and Jerry Kantor, the chairs, have been working hard looking at various models of chesed or care committees throughout the country. Plan to attend the first organizational meeting Sunday, March 14th at 11 a.m., and let them know what your niche is, how you would like to get involved, and what you have to offer. The care committee is an opportunity to enrich our lives, to add layers of meaning and simultaneously strengthen bonds of community not only for ourselves but for everyone whose lives will be touched through our actions.

To reach Rabbi Tendler by email, write to RabbiTendler@bethelnorfolk.com.

The Summer of ‘69

by Cantor Gordon Piltch

As I write, we are once again experiencing a 90 degree day in August in Norfolk, virginia. Not an unusual experience for this part of the country at this time of the year, but as I feel the sun beating down on my head and back, I cannot but recall a summer forty years ago which was to be of tremendous importance to me, to this country and to the entire world.

Thinking back to 1969 is almost like remembering a different world or at least, a different incarnation in this world. life was so very different from today that it borders on the unbelievable. There were no personal computers, no cellular phones, no internet. we depended upon newspapers and the television news to find out what was happening in the outside world. Neighborhoods were still semi-enclosed enclaves in which people lived their lives day-to-day. Most people did not travel great distances very often. vacations were to the mountains or to the shore. America was still mostly innocent and naïve although our innocence was being lost daily as we watched the vietnam war on Tv every night and, in a few short years, watergate would force us all to grow up a lot despite ourselves.

It was in July of 1969 that the first human beings landed on the moon. The Space Program was a priority in that decade. In the late ‘50’s, the united States had been behind the Soviet union in the “Space Race”, so called because every national effort needed to be viewed as a vital competition. Neil Armstrong’s famous “one small step” line still rings in our minds’ ears as indicative of one of the truly great moments in human history. what pride we all felt as Americans and as humans when we watched his descent from the space capsule to the surface of earth’s satellite. we all understood that our world had redefined itself by the ability to travel outside of earth’s atmosphere.

Then, in August, a rock music festival on Route 17B in upstate New York became one of the focal points of modern times. originally planned to accommodate perhaps as many as 100,000 spectators, more than three quarters of a million people showed up to the three-and-a-half-day festival, making it temporarily the “third largest city” in New York State. woodstock immediately became a major icon for the post-world war Two generation; a symbol of peaceful cohabitation among young people who believed the world could be made into a better place. Idealism of all kinds flourished in the late 1960’s in America, but the most common was a “make love, not war” mentality prevalent on college campuses throughout the country and filtering down into our high schools as well. So many of those who attended the woodstock music festival, including the organizers, were Jews; far beyond the proportion of Jews in the general population. one of my congregants in New York pointed out to me years later that she and her boyfriend (later her husband) were front and center in the famous photo which became the album cover for the lP made from the various performances. As a footnote, they named their firstborn son America. None of us were quite the same after the “woodstock Nation”.

The summer of 1969 was the summer of love and hope. Yes, the world was still plagued with serious problems; but optimism was peaking. Many people in the younger generation felt that positive change would be possible despite the political assassinations of the previous year, the ongoing war in Southeast Asia, and the still slow progress of the Civil Rights movement. I was a high school senior, acutely aware of my impending draft eligibility and the social relations of blacks and Jews as a student in a public high school where the population was 85% black.

In the midst of all the conflicting feelings of my adolescence, I went to JFK Airport to meet all my friends from Camp Ramah to leave for seven weeks in Israel on the Ramah Seminar. late June until mid-August would be my first time in the ancient and modern home of my people. Among the others on this trip was a young rabbinical student serving as a counselor named Archie Ruberg. we sometimes compare memories of that summer from our differing points of view and laugh at the way the mind sometimes plays tricks on us. But what an experience! The Six Day war took place two years before and we were able to visit the Kotel and the rest of the old City, much of which was still in ruins from the destruction of the Jewish Quarter by the Jordanians in 1948. we were able to move freely though the areas of Judea and Samaria which had been closed to Jews for twenty years. we went from Rosh Hannikra in the north to Eilat in the south and everywhere in between. It was an idyllic time for Israel and for Jews throughout the world. we were all moved and excited and saddened and affected in so many ways, running the full gamut of emotions. we were constantly being exposed to our ancient history and our newest history in the making, side-by-side and one after the other. None of us wanted it to end. None of us wanted to return to the States, thinking, is that home or are we home now? we tried out our Ramah Hebrew ordering falafel at a sidewalk kiosk and asking directions on the street. Palestinian nationalism had not reached its full growth yet. No one was familiar with the term “Intefada”. we were tasting the promise of paradise.

Eventually, we had to come back to our families and get ready for school. we had been at the foot of Masada when they landed on the moon. we had not yet heard of the triumph of woodstock; but we had fallen in love with the land of Israel, the Jewish people and Jewish culture. The summer of ’69 changed so much but not the least was my Jewish future. This year, think seriously about a trip to Eretz Yisrael whether it is for the first time or the twentieth. Your lives will be so much richer.

Leshana Tova and Leshana Habba’a Biyrushalayim.

To reach Cantor Piltch by email, write to cantorpiltch@bethelnorfolk.com.