My Last Kol Nidre

Kol Nidre 5785 – Awareness, Appreciation, and Action

Rabbi Joseph R. Black – Temple Emanuel - Denver, CO

October 11, 2025

My Dear Friends – L’shanah Tovah and G’mar Chatimah Tovah!

This is the last Kol Nidre sermon I will deliver as your rabbi. As I think about July 1st, 2025 when I will join Rabbi Foster as a Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Emanuel, I realize that the coming year will be filled with many “lasts”: 

·      The last b’nai mitzvah,

·      the last shabbat service,

·      the last funeral,

·      The last conversion student

·      or hospital visit, or baby naming

And all of these will be poignant and powerful. The last wedding at which I will be officiating while I am still Sr. Rabbi will be in June - and it will be extra special because my son, Ethan will stand with his beloved Zahava Davis under the Chuppah - here in this sanctuary – as I co-officiate with Zahava’s father, Rabbi Michael Davis of Wichita, Kansas. Ethan and Zahava met 8 years ago at Shwayder Camp where he was Songleader and she was Assistant Director, so the multiple layers of joy and fulfillment that this simcha represents are truly overwhelming.

As I think about all the “lasts” that will take place over the course of the next 262 days until I retire, I can’t help also thinking about some of the “firsts” that have brought me to this moment.

It seems like only yesterday that I began my journey to the Rabbinate as a student at the Hebrew Union College- Jewish Institute of Religion. How could it have been 42 years ago?  That seems absurd! While in rabbinical school, I began to learn what it meant to be a rabbi – and the truth is, I am still learning – even at this point in my career.

In Seminary, my classmates and I learned to study sacred text. We immersed ourselves in liturgy, philosophy, theology, and Jewish history. We studied Hebrew and Aramaic grammar, Talmud, Midrash, Mishnah and even Kabbalah. We immersed ourselves in Educational Theory and Homiletics. But as thorough and wonderful as our education was, there were some things we could never be taught. No one told us about the possibility of

·     September 11th, 2001 – the day that changed the world as we knew it;

·     A rise in anti-Semitism – in America and around the world;

·     A global pandemic that forced us to retool everything we did overnight in order to serve the needs of communities in crisis;

·     Political unrest in our country that threatens the very foundations of Democracy;

·     The State of Israel facing an existential crisis that questions the validity and foundations of Zionism…

….just to name a few…..  we had no choice but to learn on the job– fumbling along with everyone else. And this process has never stopped. I learn more every day.

I am fortunate that, throughout my career, I have been blessed with some wonderful partners – both lay and professional

·        in Minneapolis,

·        In Albuquerque,

and, of course here in Denver where the talents of Cantor Elizabeth Sacks, Rabbi Emily Hyatt, Cantorial Soloist, Steve Brodsky, Executive director Steve Stark, Rabbi Emeritus Steven Foster – and everyone on our professional and lay leadership teams inspire me daily.

We have grown together. We have seen successes and taken on difficult challenges – but through it all, we have learned from one another and every experience – and we have strived to apply that knowledge and share its wisdom with all of you. I am thrilled that our Board of Trustees has chosen Rabbis Sacks and Hyatt to succeed me as we go from strength to strength.

This past year, in addition to celebrating our 150th anniversary, we also have been holding our collective breaths. Each day following the horrific events of October 7th has left us filled with dread as we anxiously seek out news about the fate of the hostages and an end to this war. This past Monday, on the anniversary of that tragedy, this sanctuary was filled to overflowing as our greater Denver Jewish community came together to commemorate, grieve, remember, and recommit ourselves to one another and to the State of Israel.  October 7th has changed us– and, in many ways – it has also kept us frozen in our tracks as we have prayed for the release of the hostages and a pathway – if not to peace, then at least to some kind of resolution that will allow for the rebuilding of destroyed communities – on all  sides of all borders – Israeli, Palestinian, and Lebanese. At the same time, we cannot ever give up our hope for peace – with two States – Israeli and Palestinian – living side by side.

October 7th and its aftermath has also provided an added layer of complexity as I reflect on my last year in the pulpit. While I know that retirement is the correct decision for me, my family, and Temple Emanuel, it is difficult to leave at a time when there is so much chaos taking place all around us. 

And so, as I thought about this sermon, I must tell you, I was not sure what to say. Even though I will not be retiring until the end of June, this is the largest crowd I will address from this pulpit. So, the pressure is on. What do I need to share, and, more important, what do you need to hear from me tonight?

Many people have asked me what I plan to do when I retire. When asked this question, Rabbi Jack Stern – of blessed memory used to say that he was going to finish his book. People would ask: “Are you writing a book?” His response: “No, I am just trying to read one!”  For the past 37 years in the pulpit (42 – if you count the time I spent in Rabbinical school), my time has not been my own. Being a member of the clergy is more than a full-time job.

Now, I’m not complaining – I love being a rabbi and, as Cantor Sacks so beautifully said on Rosh Hashanah, it is a calling, not a profession. But when I wake up on the morning of July 1st it will feel strange – even disorienting– but I know that I’ll get used to it.

While I don’t have a full plan yet, I do know that I will be composing, recording, and sharing my music with others. Over the course of my rabbinic career, I have often struggled to balance service to my congregation with my creative self. Music has all too often taken a back seat to the needs of the communities I have served – as it should have. After retirement, I will have more time to dedicate to creative pursuits. (Although Sue has informed me that she has a long list of things for me to accomplish at home…but that’s another story…)

One goal that I have also set for myself early in retirement is to actually write a book based on a concept that I have been presenting at various songwriting and music conferences for the past several years. The tentative title of the book is “The Spirituality of Creativity” and my hope is that it will shed some light on the sacred work of artists, musicians, writers, and anyone else who feels called to create.

You see, I have found that responding to the call of my creative impulse has led me to find holiness in the most unexpected places and moments.

Spirituality is a difficult concept to grasp. It can mean many different things to different people. The author and lecturer Dr. Brene Brown, in her book, The Gifts of Imperfection[i] writes that: 

“Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion.” 

I like her definition – it’s a good place to start, but it is also incomplete. For the gift of spirituality to be fully actualized, it needs to not only be connected with others - it has to be shared as well. This is where the line between creativity and spirituality becomes blurred. All art, all creative acts reflect our relationship with the world around us and, ultimately, its source.

As such, I have come up with my own definition of spirituality that I want to share with you on this holiest night of the year.

My definition of spirituality is based on three principles – all conveniently beginning with the letter “A”:

·        Awareness

·        Appreciation, and

·        Action

Awareness begins with Dr. Brown’s definition – understanding that we are all connected to each other by a power greater than ourselves. But, as I just said, that, in and of itself, is not enough. Judaism teaches that every aspect of our lives  - everything we do - has the potential for holiness – if we allow ourselves to find it. This happens all the time, and every day. We have blessings for everything – from waking up in the morning, to going to sleep at night; from tasting the first fruits of the season, to affixing a mezuzah to the door posts of our homes – our tradition teaches us to open up ourselves and our souls to the presence of something larger than ourselves – wherever and whenever we look.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, in this seminal work, The Sabbath, teaches that a key component of spiritual awakening arises out of an understanding that, although we spend much of our time creating, for one day of the week – on shabbat – we stop our labors and focus on the fact that we are created. Our task, as spiritual beings, is to see the world around us with a sense of awe and wonder. We crave God’s presence in our lives, and we constantly search for it. This is reflected in our sacred texts:

·      Jacob, awakening from a dream where he saw a ladder reaching up to the heavens cries out: “Wow!  God is in this place and I – I did not know it!”

·      Sarah, Rebekah, and Rachel all cry out to God in desperation as they pray for a child – and their prayers are answered.

·      Moses pleads with God to show him the divine countenance so that he will be able to better understand God’s ways, and all of God’s glory passes before him as he stands on the rock.

·      In the depths of his aloneness, the prophet Elijah hears a “Still Small Voice” that reassures him of God’s presence.

But this doesn’t only happen in the Bible. There are times when we are all acutely aware of the spiritual gifts in our lives  - moments of both joy and sorrow:

·   Holding a newborn child or grandchild

·   Celebrating a young person becoming B’nai mitzvah

·   Standing under the chuppah at a child’s wedding

·   Standing silently, shovel in hand, as the casket of a loved is lowered into the earth, and hearing the heartbreaking thud of dirt as it hits the coffin – the pain and loss we feel reflects the gift we have been given by sharing in their lives;

·   Even standing at this pulpit for the last time on Kol Nidre….

All of these moments are infused with hyper awareness of both the joyous gift of life – and the unbearable pain of loss. Sometimes these two experiences are blurred, and yet, it is the fact that we are attuned to both joy and sorrow that we begin to understand just how so many different sacred strands are woven into our lives.

In the Torah we find that we are created in God’s image[ii]. Rabbinic tradition adds to this by positing that an even greater gift than creation itself is our awareness that we were created in God’s image. Once our eyes have been opened to this fundamental concept, we are forever changed. And it is this change that moves us to the next component in understanding our spiritual selves – from Awareness to Appreciation.

Appreciation means responding to the gift of awareness. One of the many lessons that my mother, of blessed memory, drilled into my head was the importance of writing thank-you-notes. When we receive a gift, we must acknowledge it and give thanks. When we understand the beauty, fragility, and uniqueness of the gift of our own creation, we have no choice but to find avenues of expression – to give thanks for the blessing of our very existence.

·   We show our appreciation when we share our lives with others.

·   We show our appreciation with words of prayer

·   We show our appreciation by living lives of meaning and purpose – utilizing the finite moments of our experience – savoring the good – and even the bad …

– because life is fleeting, precious and rare. The older I get, the more I understand this profound truth.

There is a reason that so many of our prayers are about giving thanks. The act of acknowledging the gifts we have been given puts us in relationship with the source of those gifts:  with God – or however you choose to define the Divine.

To understand the miraculous nature of our lives is to realize that we have no choice but to adopt an attitude of gratitude for the blessings that surround us. We are compelled to say thank you – to show our appreciation to the source of life - even when we are not sure where to direct our thanks. And when we have to face sorrow and pain – as we all do – the memories of the blessings we have experienced can give us strength, hope, and appreciation when we contrast them to our current situation. There is a reason that the mourner’s kaddish is not about death, but rather about extolling the God who gives us life, meaning and purpose.

But acknowledging – giving thanks – is still not enough… Once we have been given a gift and shown our appreciation, the next step is to share these gifts with others - to work to make the world a better place – what our tradition calls Tikkun Olam- the repair of our all too imperfect world. And so, we move from Appreciation to ACTION.

If we do not work to improve the world, we are forsaking the gift of life itself. In Judaism, true spirituality is not about separating ourselves from others – achieving a higher level of consciousness and reveling in the marvel of our mindfulness. Have you ever wondered why there are no Jewish monasteries? The Torah takes a dim view of monastic life. It is all but forbidden[iii]. The reason for this is that in order for our lives to have meaning and purpose, we need to be present in the world, and act to make it a better place.

·   Is there a cause, or a candidate about which you are passionate? Volunteer!

·   Is there an organization that makes your life better? (Perhaps a synagogue…) Get involved! Donate!

·   Is there a way that you can improve the lives of those around you? Find it!

·   Is there a way for each of us, especially at this liminal time of Yom Kippur, to find new ways to give back – in thanks and appreciation for the good that we have received?

And yes, as I have asked you - every year on Yom Kippur - are there relationships in our lives that are broken – that need to be repaired? On this Kol Nidre eve, let is take some time and think about how we all might be able to bridge the painful gaps that come from shutting out – or being shut out – by the most important people in our lives. Do it now! Before it is too late!

Taking action to repair the brokenness in our world and in ourselves is more than simply a good deed – it is an act of Spiritual connectedness. It is prayer incarnate.

Connecting with our spiritual selves is not easy. God (however you define God) can be illusive. Sometimes God is distant and hard to find.  Other times – such as this moment right now – God’s presence is overwhelming. Over the past 14 years that I have served as your Sr. Rabbi, I have truly been blessed. This is a remarkable community. You have nurtured my soul and helped me to find the spirituality that puts everything in perspective. For this, I offer you my deepest thanks, gratitude, and love. And most importantly, for the times that I have NOT been there for you – when I have let you down – knowingly or not – please forgive me.

I would never have been able to be present for you – or to understand the meaning and power of Spirituality - without my family:

·    My beloved wife, Sue – who nurtures and sustains me, shares my dreams, calls out my bullsh…(pause) my hubris, serves as my greatest cheerleader and, when necessary, my toughest critic, and has been by my side throughout this entire journey. Being a rabbi’s spouse is not easy. There have been too many times when the needs of the congregation have overshadowed our ability to be together. I look forward to finally being able to do simple things like sit together at services. I am blessed by her love and support every day.

·    My children, Elana and Greg, and Ethan and soon – Zahava, are all remarkable human beings whose values, humanity and love I cherish. Being the children of clergy is never easy. People think they know you and, all too often, boundaries are crossed. Many Clergy kids feel a need to rebel and reject their faith because they see it as barrier to family togetherness.  But they have not.  I feel so blessed to see them growing into amazing adults who care deeply about Judaism, their values, and their ability make a difference in the world.

·    And, of course, my perfect grandson, Ezra - who has shown me more of God’s presence in the past 15 months than I ever could have imagined.

My Dear Friends, over the course of this next year, as I prepare for the next stage of my life as a Rabbi Emeritus, I know that we will have many opportunities to connect, to study, to laugh, and maybe even to shed a few tears together. But as we do, let us try to understand that everything we do can and should be done with Appreciation, Acknowledgement and Action.

Thank you for the privilege of partnering with all of you in this sacred covenant:

·      Together we have searched for God.

·      Together we have worked to make the world a better place.

·      Together we have shared our lives – in joy and in sorrow – and I cannot be more grateful for the trust you have placed in me and my rabbinate,

On this holiest night of the year, I stand before you with joy, humility, and gratitude in my heart.

I want to conclude with a song that I wrote a few years ago about the meaning and purpose of the search for God’s presence: It’s called

God Plays Hide and Seek[iv]

Link to the song:  

 https://youtu.be/AQOCBO9RuDc?si=W36D6AxlsYjqOnp6

God plays hide and seek

Leaving trails of crumbs for us to find

With twists and turns along a crooked road that winds

Among the valleys and the peaks

God plays hide and seek

God plays hard to get

With feigned indifference to our daily toil

Like a pot- you watch it, but it never boils

Like a sideways silhouette

God plays hard to get

But even when you’re halfway thru the race

And you find yourself in hot pursuit

Just take some time and think about the chase

It's not the finish line you seek- it's each step along the route

God plays fast and loose

The rules change daily at a moment's whim

There's no devotion, prayer, or ancient hymn

To bring about a truce

When God plays fast and loose.

G’mar Chatimah Tovah – may we all be sealed for a blessing in the book of life.

Amen

[i] Brown, Brene, The Gifts of Imperfection, Hazeldon Books, Minneapolis, MN 2010

[ii] See Genesis 1:27

[iii] See Numbers 6:21

[iv] From the CD, Praying With Our Feet. Words and Music © 2016  - Rabbi Joe Black – Lanitunes Music (ASCAP)

All Rights Reserved.

 

Erev Rosh HaShanah- Zionism Today: Caught Between Two Narratives. Erev Rosh HaShanah 5758 (2024)

Here is a Link to the video of my sermon:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=JhBibjTyePE 

My Dear Friends,  L’shanah Tovah! 

Tomorrow morning, we will once again read the story of the Binding of Isaac – the Akeydah. We will hear as Abraham is called by God to sacrifice his only son as a test of faith and how, at the very last second, an angel of God calls out and commands him to stop – saving Isaac’s life and Abraham and Sarah’s legacy.

I have been writing and delivering Rosh Hashanah sermons ever since my first High Holyday student pulpit in Walterboro South Carolina in 1983. Each year, I have wrestled with this text, and the many ethical, theological, and psychological problems that it poses- and I am not alone. Philosophers, commentators, and Rabbis from Rashi to Kierkegaard have tried to understand the messages and purposes of this complex narrative.

As I approach my last year as your Senior Rabbi, the quandary of the Akeydah still looms large. One of the key issues that Abraham faces as he and Isaac go on their three-day journey to Mt. Moriah is the difficulty of holding on to two completely different and contradictory narratives. God is testing Abraham. God tells him to take his son, his only son – whom he loves – and offer him up as a sacrifice. God has promised Abraham and Sarah that their descendants will be plentiful and that Isaac will be the progenitor of multiple generations.

Herein lies his dilemma: If Abraham sacrifices Isaac, then God’s promise of future generations is nullified. But if he does not go ahead with this horrible deed, then he is disobeying his Creator. Both outcomes are untenable. Abraham is facing an existential crisis that challenges both his faith and the reality in which he lives. Even the ending of the narrative is chilling. When, at the last minute, Abraham learns that this entire ordeal was a trial to measure his faithfulness, we are left with the question: “What kind of god would torture someone with such a horrific test?”

During the course of this past year, in the aftermath of October 7th, many of us have felt like Abraham.  We too have been tested. Of course, our experience here in Denver pales in comparison with the pain that Israelis are experiencing. And yet, as the one-year anniversary of the unspeakable horrors of the Hamas pogrom draws near, and in the shadow of the recent attacks on Israel from Iran, Jews around the world are dealing with several painful realities:

• The plight of the hostages in Gaza and the unbearable suffering that their loved ones are enduring as they wait for some glimmer of hope to emerge from this horrific situation,
• Yesterday’s missile attacks by Iran that made it perfectly clear that this war is not between Israel and Hamas, or Hezbollah – but, rather it is Iran that threatens the peace and stability of the middle East – if not the entire globe,
• The frightening rise of Anti-Semitism from both the Far Right and the Far Left here in America,
• The coordinated and well-orchestrated anti-Israel and anti-Semitic protests on school campuses, on the streets, legislative halls and public squares of every city around the country and around the world that utilize terms such as globalism, apartheid, colonialism, and racism to demonize Zionism and slander the State of Israel,
• The sense of abandonment that many in the Jewish world are experiencing as we see former partners with whom we worked side by side on issues of social justice, now spouting anti-Zionist and Anti-Semitic tropes that we thought were long buried in the ash-heap of history,
• The verbal attacks on Israel as it fights a war it did not seek – and when it targets enemies bent on its destruction it is blamed for the deaths of innocents who are deliberately placed in harm’s way,

…All of these have contributed to a sense of dread and uncertainty that have shaken us to the core. And to top it all off - this is taking place against a backdrop of social and political upheaval in America as we approach another bitterly fought presidential election. 

The situation for Jews - in America and around the world – is rapidly changing. In the 42 years since beginning my journey to the Rabbinate, I cannot recall another, more precarious time.

• The fact that armed guards are now commonplace in every synagogue we enter,
• The ever-increasing budget lines designated for protective personnel and defensive building upgrades that take away needed funds for education and other programming,
• The many security protocols that we have put in place

…are all testimonies to the fact that we are facing a dangerous period in our history.

And perhaps, more unnerving than all these factors is the increasing generational disconnect in our community as a not insignificant number of Jews – especially young Jews - are questioning the values, history and underpinnings of Zionism, and they are using the very same rhetoric and language as those who strive to put an end to the State of Israel.

The phrases, “Free Palestine,” “from the river to the sea,” and “globalize the intifada” are not new. We know what they mean. We understand that they are calls for the destruction of the State of Israel. We expect to hear them from our enemies. But the pain and shock of hearing these very same phrases coming from the mouths of our fellow Jews– many of whom grew up in our congregations and our homes - is quite another matter.

I am a proud Zionist. And I am not alone. I know that many, if not most of you here tonight share my views.

And yet, Increasingly, the connection between American Jews and Israel is being challenged by new norms and expectations that pose difficult questions we must ask ourselves:

• Are Zionism and Judaism really intertwined? Can one be a Jew and an anti-Zionist?
• How do we deal with the sufferings of innocents caught up in the crossfire between Israel and its enemies in Gaza, The West Bank, and Lebanon?
• What has been the impact of the policies of the current extremist government in Israel on Jews around the world who do not share in the triumphalist, fundamentalist and all too-often, racist views of some of the members of Prime Minister Netanyahu’s cabinet?
• Christian Nationalism is on the rise in America. While not all non-Jewish supporters of Israel are Christian Nationalists, many Far Right, fundamentalist movements that love Israel often base their support on theological and ideological principles that share little, if anything, with our Jewish values. Can we truly feel comfortable marching side by side with those whose Zionism is based on a triumphalist, eschatological world view, and whose vision of a theocratic, Christian America that includes the subjugation of women, condemnation of our LGBTQ+ friends, family, and neighbors, and tearing down the sacred walls separating religion and State?
• And most important, have we failed to teach the next generation about the vital connection between the land and the people of Israel?

And so, we American Jews, like Abraham, find ourselves holding multiple, sometimes contradictory narratives that expose both our fears and our failures – at a time that we can least afford to be uncertain about ourselves, our values, or our future.

Tonight, as we welcome in a New Year, we have no choice but to acknowledge that we are facing a turning point in our history. One of the main issues that the Jewish community must address in the short term is the need to radically transform the way that teach our children - and ourselves, for that matter - the essential call of K’lal-Yisrael- or Jewish peoplehood

We’ve done an excellent job of working for social justice. The universal push for Tikkun Olam – the repairing of our all too broken world has no less value today than it did before October 7th.  But has this emphasis on Universalism moved us away from the importance of peoplehood? As Hillel taught:

אם אין אני לי מי לי?

‏ וכשאני ולעצמי מה אני?

‏ואם לא עכשיו אי מתי?

If I am not for myself, who will be for me?  But if I am only for myself, what am I?  And if not now, when?”

We Reform Jews are experts on the second part of Hillel’s Maxim: וכשאני ולעצמי מה אני? -- “If I am only for myself, what am I?” – and we should be proud of that fact. But we have fallen short in relation to his primary statement: אם אין אני לי מי לי?

 “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” We have taught our children to look out and care for others – and this is as it should be – the ideals that fuel our movement’s social justice initiatives are essential. But they cannot replace the importance of supporting our community in times of need – especially in the State of Israel.

And this leads us to the third part of Hillel’s Maxim: ואם לא עכשיו אי מתי?

 Im lo achshav, eymatai? – If not now, when?

If we do not act quickly to increase our emphasis on K’lal Yisrael, then we run the very real risk of distancing ourselves from the history and values that have sustained our people for millennia.

We also cannot afford to cut off the young people whose anger and angst about the State of Israel has caused them to protest. As much as we might disagree with them, they see this conflict as a human rights issue. They are living out the very values we have taught them – if not in a misguided fashion.

• We have taught them that the pursuit of social justice is a central Jewish value.
• We have taught them to speak up for the powerless.
• We have taught them that we should not oppress the stranger for we know the heart of the stranger – having ourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.

And when they hear from others that Israel is an occupying and abusive power; when they are told that everything that they learned about Israel is false; when they repeatedly hear the lie that Israel is a racist, colonialist enterprise that is oppressing an indigenous population, they do not have enough information to confront and refute this sophisticated poison that flows directly from our enemies.

This is on us, my friends. There is no short term “magic pill” that can address propaganda. Education about the history of the Jewish people and the values of Zionism takes time, resources, effort and consistency. It also takes courage to tell the whole story – not a sanitized version of the truth.

Let me be clear: Israel is not a utopia. The myth of Israeli infallibility is dangerous. Mistakes have been made over the past 75 years. Democracy and governance can be messy. Just look at our own country! When we hold Israel to an impossible standard of perfection, we do everyone a disservice and open the door to manipulation and misinformation.

My friends, the task before us is difficult, but not impossible. For 2 millennia, Judaism has taught us how to disagree without alienating one another. We can’t lose this now.  It is said in the debates between Hillel and Shammai that the Halacha  - Jewish law -often went on the side of Hillel in part because he knew the opposing views and would lay them out before presenting his own.

As such – it is vitally important that, instead of cutting off our young people who actively oppose Israel and Zionism, we should open our doors and hearts and bring them close. We should listen to them and hope that they, in turn, will listen to us. This doesn’t mean that we should agree with or support their beliefs, but rather it does mean that we want to engage them in true dialogue and let them know that they are not pariahs. We cannot afford to lose them.  They are our children.

Similarly, as we teach our children and ourselves about the State of Israel we cannot sugarcoat the facts on the ground. Instead of ignoring or rejecting the problems facing the Jewish state, we need to work to improve them. One powerful way to accomplish this is by supporting the Reform Movement in Israel.

Some of you will remember that a year and a half ago - in April of 2023 - I served as a delegate for the Reform Movement to a special meeting of the World Zionist Conference in Jerusalem. There, in addition to celebrating Israel’s 75th anniversary, we also debated and voted on key issues that faced the worldwide Zionist movement. The World Zionist Congress is a non-governmental gathering of every facet of the Zionist movement. Its main purpose is to set forward an agenda for education and allocation of resources from the World Zionist Organization and its affiliates – including, ARZA – (the Association of Reform Zionists in America), Haddasah, B’nai Brith, and other groups from the most Ultra-Othodox, Far Right, to the extreme left. Prior to the Congress, there is an election in which every organization and movement encourages its members to vote. The more votes received, the more power and influence on policy a movement has. The next Congress will take place in Fall of 2025. Elections will take place from March to May next year.

 

Lest you think that this is a trivial matter, let me assure you that it is not.  While non-citizens cannot vote in Israeli elections, we can have a say in promoting and sustaining our values. Millions of dollars of funds, and key leadership portfolios will be distributed from the Jewish Agency in Israel based on the results of next year’s elections. The platforms and policies funded by these resources will reflect the vote tallies.  By registering as a member and by casting your vote, you can and will make a huge difference. The Far-Right Zionist camp did not do well in the last elections. This time, they are well organized and have prepared a sophisticated smear campaign against the Reform movement – calling us non-Jews and anti-Zionists. We cannot let them win.

Why is this important? In the words of my friend and colleague, Rabbi Josh Weinberg, Director of ARZA:

“Liberal Zionism is the insistence that there is no necessary contradiction between Israel’s dual identity as a Jewish and democratic state: that Israel can be a national home and refuge for the Jewish people while also embodying universal democratic principles of human rights and equality. Threading this needle, for liberal Zionists, means Israel must adopt a more liberal set of policies — most importantly, a two-state peace agreement with the Palestinians that allows both peoples to live with security and dignity, and to allow for greater religious freedom and pluralism.”

And so, I want you to do something tonight.  As you leave services, you will notice several posters in the Foyer about registering to vote for the World Zionist Congress. There is a QR code on these posters that will take you to a website that will give you information about the World Zionist Congress and help you register to vote. Before you go home, take a picture of the QR code.  If you’re not comfortable doing that, it’s ok - all Temple members will be receiving information about the Zionist Congress in the next few weeks – but it is vitally important that everyone register! There will also be opportunities to get involved on a grass-roots level here in Denver to help register as many people as possible.

My Dear Friends, we are living in difficult times. Our hearts are turned towards Israel as it struggles against enemies – within and without.  But together we can make a difference. Now is the time for us to work together to reinforce all of our values: the Universal and the Particular - those of K’lal Yisrael and those that teach us to care for others. They are not mutually exclusive. Now is the time to remember the words of Israel’s National Anthem – “Hatikvah”

Od Lo Avda Tikvateynu – We have not lost our hope – the hope of two thousand years, to be a free people in our land – in the land of Zion and Jerusalem. HaTikvah means “The Hope.”

The late great Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote the following:

"Many of us confuse two concepts: optimism and hope. They sound similar. But in truth, they are very different. Optimism is the belief that things will get better. Hope is the belief that together we can make things better. To be optimistic requires no courage. A certain naivety suffices. But to hope requires great courage. No Jew who knows the history of their people, much of which was written in tears, can be optimistic. But no Jew, if they are a true Jew, can give up hope. And that is why Judaism is for me the voice of hope in the conversation of humanity. And hope is what changes the human condition."

As we begin a new year, let us journey together with hope in our hearts. Let us work and pray for peace and reconciliation, and let us say, AMEN – L’Shanah Tovah