My High Holiday Message to Other Rabbis

As Chairman of the Rabbinic Cabinet of the Jewish Federations of North America, I recently sent a message to my colleagues, rabbis from all movements across the country. I thought it would be of interest to you, as it reflects my thinking about how I approach the holidays. It captures my philosophy and how I prepare for the holidays, as well as how I think about what messages to give in my sermons.

The High Holidays are for rabbis what the Super Bowl is to NFL football players, April 15 is to accountants, and December 25 is to retailers.

It is for us what “sweep week” is to network and local television execs.  It is the time when we have our largest audience, when the greatest number of our congregants are watching and listening to what we have to say. 

As a result, we have the chance to reach individuals we may not normally see on a regular basis.  They come, wanting and sometimes even yearning to be touched and inspired. 

Since we have their attention our goal should be to connect them to our people and to Judaism, to give them the desire to learn more, to feel positive about Israel and being Jewish, and to realize that our faith can be a guide for how to live their lives. 

I always view the holidays as a time to rise to the occasion by seeking to touch and inspire those who come to worship with us.  It is an opportunity to impart and convey some of the richness of our heritage and the beauty of our tradition to those in attendance.  It offers the possibility to teach and share the wisdom of our tradition and to show its relevance and its applications to situations we encounter today.  The capacity to ignite a spark of pride in our people and to implant an appreciation for Jewish identity is part of what we should aspire to do at this time of year. 

As you prepare for the holidays, may it be a time in which you succeed in touching the souls of those who join you for the Days of Awe.  May you challenge the intellect and fulfill the spiritual longings of your community. And may it be a sweet year for you and your loved ones as well. 

The Last First Day

I have been thinking a great deal about the significance of this day, for it marks the end of a 29 year streak.  It is the last time I will bless one of my children as they go off for the first day of school. 

Since September of 1983 when my oldest son left the house to go to kindergarten, I have had a child in school or college, (even earlier if we include nursery school.)  Ever since that fall day some 29 years ago I have had the joy of asking God to watch and protect my children as they begin a new school year. 

Part of what goes through my mind each year on their first day of school and then, later when they left for college, as I gently place my hands over their heads and ask God to watch over them is the recognition that they are going to be on their own, and that I will not be with them.  I will not be able to catch them when they fall, console them when another child is unkind or excludes them from a play group, or help them respond to the vagaries and unknown challenges they will encounter.  And so I send them off to the unknown with the words of the priestly blessing from the book of Numbers.  "May the Lord bless you and watch over you.  May the Lord let His Countenance shine upon you and be gracious to you.  May the Lord look kindly upon you and grant you peace."

Reciting a blessing for my children binds me with them in a unique way.  It reminds both me and them of our fragility and vulnerability, of our human limitations, of life’s uncertainties and randomness.  Quietly and pensively invoking a prayer connects both the one who is saying the prayer and the one who is being blessed to all that and to a Higher Divine Being. 

I vaguely recall my father saying something when my youngest brother graduated from high school that he was happy his days as a member of the PTA and of teacher – parent meetings were over.  My feeling and point of reference is different.  I think not just in terms of meetings, classes, or expenses, or other things that will no longer be a part of my life. 

I will miss sharing that moment, that opportunity to impart spirituality, being united in a sacred bond.  I hope and am confident I will have other chances to convey and express an appreciation of the importance of walking life in the presence of God.  But no longer will it be as I send a child off to that first day of school. 

Rabbi Stuart Weinblatt

September 4, 2012