From Your Rabbi

Rabbi's blog from February bulletin

2010-01-31T18:04:00.001-05:00

From the Rabbi’s Study

Rabbi Samuel Kieffer

The following was received on line as a thought-provoking response to the criticism launched at Israel during and after the war in Gaza of a year ago, coupled with the incredible response on the part of Israel to the recent earthquake and relief effort in Haiti.

Israel's Disproportionate Response

Many countries and world leaders have accused Israel of responding disproportionately to aggression from Hezbollah in Lebanon and Hamas in Gaza. However, it is time that the world press and media speak of another disproportionate response from Israel.

The terrible disastrous earthquake in Haiti has generated responses from many nations. The US has sent supplies and personnel; Britain sent 64 firemen and 8 volunteers; France sent troops for Search and Rescue. Many large and wealthy nations of the world sent money. The Arab and Moslem world--nothing.

Israel, a nation of 7.5 million people has sent a team of 220 people that include medical personnel and will establish the largest field hospital in Haiti, treating up to 5000 people a day, an experienced Search and Rescue team and medical supplies. As in previous earthquake disasters, such as in India, in 2001, and in Turkey, in the bombings in Kenya, Israel has been one of the most generous givers of aid and assistance.

Judge Goldstone, where are you now? Eating your heart out and hanging your head in shame, I hope.

The favorite occupation in the UN is Israel-bashing. More resolutions have been passed condemning Israel than all the so-called democratic nations such as Sudan, China, Russia, and others for their crimes against their minorities. I think it is time that the world should know about Israel's disproportionate response.

Yom Kippur Yizkor Sermon, 2009

2009-11-10T17:05:00.001-05:00

YOM KIPPUR—2009 Yizkor Sermon

PRAYER, REPENTENCE, AND CHARITY: THREE STORIES

By now most of us are familiar with the three part statement which indicates that prayer, repentance and charity avert the severity of the decree. Today, I want to share with you three amazing stories to illustrate each of these three factors, and attempt to relate them to the meaning of the Yizkor Hour.

The first story was shared by a colleague of mine who found himself in the difficult and challenging situation of working closely with the Cantor in his synagogue, who in one particular year found himself facing a serious illness right before the High Holidays, such that the Cantor would not be able to conduct the Holiday services that year. It was too late to find a substitute replacement and it became clear that the Rabbi would have to perform double-duty that year, both conducting as well as doing the chanting of all the prayers. The Rabbi felt somewhat okay with it and confident in his own knowledge of most of the melodies primarily because of the excellent training he had received as a child by the Cantor he had growing up. The Rabbi's only concern was whether he would be able to master the Hineni prayer, the one that Cantor's chant to introduce the Musaf. As the Rabbi sat in his office trying to recapture the melody, his eyes glanced up at one of his bookshelves on which was a small wooden box with the name of his old Cantor on it. He went over to it, opened the box and lo and behold inside were cassette tapes that his old Cantor had recorded of all the High Holiday prayers. He placed one into his tape recorder and heard his old Cantor's voice narrating: "This is the prayer for the Cantor to sing right before the Musaf," and that was followed by the Cantor's voice singing the Hineni. When the prayer was over, the Cantor had finished his recording with the following message, "This is your Cantor, Ben—I know you are only 15 years old now, but I have a feeling that some day you will probably be a Rabbi, and you might need to learn these melodies. Use them well, I know you will do a good job."

The Rabbi who shared this story went on to say that he started crying when he heard this message. He never discussed with his Cantor growing up that he thought about becoming a Rabbi some day. Apparently that cantor could penetrate the soul of this young man and was caring enough and loving enough to leave such a message for him, knowing that some day, the teenager would discover the tapes and listen to them. The Rabbi concluded his reporting of this story with the following words: "I knew at that moment, that my teacher, who was gone already at least ten years when I listened to those tapes, was still teaching me. All of a sudden my panic and concern were gone. Everything will be all right, because he had the confidence in me. I would not be alone this Rosh Hashana. My old Cantor would be with me on the bima. And after all, what does the word Hineni mean? It means "Here I am." And there he was."

Yizkor is a Hineni moment, when those special people who influenced us in so many ways are with us. Their spirit, their soul, their personality, their impact is so real and so very much surrounding us in the here and now. Just by saying the word, Yizkor, we think of them and summon those special memories. For these few moments we might laugh and cry and re-live conversations, and experiences, and arguments, and make-ups, and suddenly feel their presence much more than we feel their absence. It is painful and sad and yet it is also wonderful and joyous at the same time to imagine them being with us and continuing to influence us in some way.

Hineni is a prayer and that first story, therefore reflects the prayer part of our three-fold High Holiday statement. Repentence is the next one, and it is a word that suggests the possibility to change our reality, certainly a small change, but even a drastic one. This story illustrates that point.

When the Old and New Cities of Jerusalem were reunited as a result of the Six-Day War in June, 1967, a recently widowed Arab woman, who had been living in Old Jerusalem since 1948, wanted to visit the home she used to live in before 1948. Now that the city was one, she searched for and found her old home. She knocked on the door of the apartment and a Jewish widow came to the door and greeted her. The Arab woman explained that she had lived there until 1948 and just wanted to look around. The Jewish widow invited her in, gave her some coffee and they spent a very pleasant afternoon together sharing memories of earlier times. As she was preparing to leave and return to her current home, the Arab woman said to the Jewish woman, "When I lived here I hid some valuables. If they are still here I will share them with you half and half."

The Jewish woman absolutely refused and said, "If they belonged to you and they are still here, then they are yours." After a friendly debate back and forth the Arab woman led her new friend into one of the bathrooms, loosened some of the wooden boards on the floor and, sure enough, they found a hoard of gold coins.

The two widows visited each other again and again, and then the story really gets more and more amazing. One day, the Arab woman recounted the day in 1948 when she left her home. She said that she and her husband were so frightened from the fighting that they decided to run away to escape. They grabbed their belongings, took the children, and each fled separately. She said they had a three-month old son. She thought the husband took him, the husband was sure that his wife had taken him, and it was only when they reunited in Old Jerusalem that they discovered that neither of them had taken the child. At that very moment as she told this story, a 20-year-old Israeli soldier in uniform walked into the apartment, hugged the Jewish widow and said, "Hi, Ema." She turned to her new friend, and with tears pouring out of her eyes, said, "This is you son." What had happened was that the Jewish woman's husband was an Israeli soldier in the War of Independence. He came into this very house and found the baby on the floor, and when the original family that lived there could not be found, the authorities gave the soldier permission to keep the baby, which they did.

As unlikely as this story is, it doesn't quite end there. The two women had grown close and found that they liked each other, leading the Jewish widow to eventually say to the Arab widow, "Look, we are both widows living alone. Our children are grown up. This house has brought you luck. You have found you son, or our son. Why don't we live together?" And they did just that.

If repentance means change, than the two women in this story epitomize the reality that change is possible. Is this story likely? No. Is it common? No. But whenever any of us find ourselves believing we are in situations that we cannot get out of, that we can't put into motion a complete change from what we are used to, remember this story and think again.

The third category, charity, is reflected in this story. It is not about charity in the normal sense of the word—it does not talk about money or coins or pushkes or appeals or pledges. It talks about the charity of the soul and of the spirit that all of us can reach in and pull out of ourselves to share with another person. Here is the story:

I was sitting on a beach one summer day, watching two children, a boy and a girl, playing in the sand. They were hard at work building an elaborate sandcastle by the water's edge, with gates and towers and moats and internal passages. Just when they had nearly finished their project, a big wave came along and knocked it down, reducing it to a heap of wet sand. I expected the children to burst into tears, devastated by what had happened to all their hard work. But they surprised me. Instead, they ran up the shore away from the water, laughing and holding hands, and sat down to build another castle. I realized that they had taught me an important lesson. All the things in our lives, all the complicated structures we spend so much time and energy creating, are built on sand. Only our relationships to other people endure. Sooner or later, the wave will come along and knock down what we have worked so hard to build up. When that happens, only the person who has somebody's hand to hold will be able to laugh.

Three stories. Three principles to guide our lives. The Hineni Prayer—the Prayer that says, "Here I am." The prayer that reminds us that even those who are no longer with us, are still with us, through the miracle of memory. The story of the Jewish and Arab widows who found themselves able to drastically change their perceptions, their convictions, their reality and create a new reality upon which to rebuild their lives. And the third story of a girl and a boy holding hands to laugh away life's tragedies making them considerably less tragic reminds us that extending our hand in love and in order to laugh may very well be the most dramatic effective, and generous form of charity that we can give to another person. Prayer, Repentence, Charity—can avert the severity of the decree. Yizkor. Remember the neshames, the souls of those who taught us about life. Help us to remember our own neshames, to use the power, wisdom, and compassion contained within all of our souls to be good and to do good. May memory be a tool we can use to recognize and appreciate the blessings that surround us. And may our Yizkor prayers bring us comfort, strength, and peace now and always.

Kol Nidray Sermon

2009-11-10T17:03:00.000-05:00

ROSH HASHANA-SECOND DAY—2009

ISAAC AND YISHMAEL

When you make it to both services of Rosh Hashana, you are treated to two stories from the Torah that parallel each other in some interesting ways. On the first day, we read about Hagar, the concubine of Abraham and Sarah who is sent away with her young son, Yishmael, because Abraham and Sarah were afraid that the teenager was having a bad influence on Isaac. Mother and child are sent into the wilderness, they are out of water and food and just as it seems the young boy will die of thirst an angel appears pointing to a well nearby from which they are both sustained and revived. In gratitude, Hagar gives the well a name, "BE'ER LACHAI RO'EE", which literally means "the well of the living God who sees me." A modern scholar, however, prefers to understand the name of the well as meaning, "at the bottom of the well, when I am at the lowest point of my life, when I feel helpless and abandoned, I met God and learned that God cares about me."

On the second day of Rosh Hashana, we read one of the most challenging stories in the entire Bible—the story of God's command to Abraham to take his son, Isaac, and offer him as a sacrifice on a nearby mountain. Although the text of this story does not reveal anything about what Abraham may have been thinking, it does tell us that he prepared to fulfill that command, and was just about to sacrifice his beloved son, when at the very last minute another angel intervenes and stops him. Abraham calls this particular place,

"ADONAI YIR'EH", literally meaning, "the mountain where God is seen." But, again, that same modern scholar who re-translated Yishmael's well, chooses to re-translate Abraham's mountain into, "at the highest point of my life, the day when my child was returned to me safe and unharmed, I felt I had seen the face of God."

It is simply too difficult for me to pass up the temptation to read in between the lines, to connect the dots, to ask the question—what do these two stories have to do with each other and why were these the ones selected to be read on these two days of Rosh Hashana? Here is my interpretation. In the first story Hagar claims to see God in the well. In the second story Abraham claims to see God on the mountaintop. What I think these two stories are telling us is this: we see, feel, and experience God from the lowest points of our lives, and we do so from the highest points of our lives.

There are many reasons that so many of us come to shul on Rosh Hashana but one of those reasons is that we are seeking God. We are looking for connections, for a sense of belonging, for an experience of something beyond ourselves, and, many of us are doing so from our personal mountain tops and many others from the bottom of their pit.

This past year has been one of the most challenging ones in any of our memories. The economic instability and uncertainty has wreaked havoc in many of our lives. Some individuals in this room today saw their life savings or their retirement packages dwindle dangerously low. Others suffered major losses in the stock market and for many, their children's college funds were what took the hit and they do not know how they will cover college tuition. Some of our fellow congregants have lost businesses that they spent their entire lives building up, only to see it collapse overnight. Some are the undeserving victims of their employers' need to downsize in order to stay afloat, and their personal wages are either dramatically lowered or their particular position is eliminated. The empty pit that others are sitting in today, has nothing to do with money. For some, they are in a deep pit because their husband or wife woke up one day and informed them that they wanted a divorce, and it may have come from left field. Still others are reeling from a recent diagnosis for a family member or for themselves, and it often comes without warning.

Isn't it interesting that most folks find themselves questioning God's existence or God's reality when we are down in the pit, but rarely do we question God's existence when we are on the mountaintop. That, I think is the message of the combination of these two texts to be read on Rosh Hashana. It is as if our sages are telling us, as this new year is about to begin, know in advance that stuff happens—good stuff, bad stuff. Know in advance that there is so much over which we have absolutely no control. We may be forced to deal with all kinds of adversity, the likes of which we might deserve and we might not, but we will face those situations anyway. We may be challenged with tragedies and sorrows and problems that we simply never anticipated, never saw coming, never had an opportunity to plan for, but we will face them, and we can and we will face them and overcome them and emerge whole and strong, because that is the call of Hagar to see God in the depths of the pit, that is the religious inclination to see God in the midst of darkness and despair. But we also encounter God in our celebrations and triumphs. The second story is summoning us to the mountaintop to recognize the mystery of God's work in this world when things go right, when life is wonderful, when we are experiencing absolute joy, that can be as mystifying as the deep pits of despair. The same mystery that causes us to be in awe and in wonder about the Nature of God when things go wrong is equally perplexing when things go right! That God that we encounter whether in the bottom of the pit or on the top of the mountain will probably NOT look like an old man in a white robe and with a white beard. That God will more likely look like your neighbor, your friend, your fellow congregant who comes over to your house with food and with compassion and with friendship when you are down and when you are on top of the world. The well that Hagar and Yishmael see in the wilderness is described in a very significant way. The text does NOT say that God suddenly created a well in the middle of the desert. What it says is that God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. Taken literally, God didn't make the well right there on the spot. The well was already there. It was God's presence with her, God's comforting, encouraging, loving presence that enabled her to see what was already there and that she has the power within her to face her crisis and overcome it and to defeat it. That, I believe is what our Sages understood about these two stories and that is why they selected them for our Torah readings on these two days of Rosh Hashana—it is the power of friendship, the power of caring, the power of love that every one of us has within us to give—that is the work of God in our lives, and sometimes, we only get to see or experience that power as we find ourselves in the lowest part of the well and sometimes we see or experience it when we are on the top of the mountain.

Our synagogue has suffered from this economy just as each of our families have suffered. If you are struggling to pay your bills, the likelihood is that your mortgage and electricity bills will be paid before your synagogue dues. In this past year more and more of our families have not been able to pay their dues or tuitions or fees, all of which is what keeps our synagogue afloat. There are, at least, two different ways that we have to deal with that reality. The first one is that for some of you, and I do not know who you are, or to what extent this is true for you—there are some of our families who, thankfully, have not suffered too much economically. And frankly, we need your help. We need you to help us out by making significant donations to our shul this coming year and by making a commitment to consider a multi-year obligation. What if, for example, 3-5 families got together and asked themselves, what does it cost us to run and operate our Youth Groups—all the salaries, all the supplies, all the costs of running the incredible programs that Chalutzim and Kadima and USY have over the course of a year, the programs that attract dozens and dozens of our kids to come here and enjoy being here, making lifelong friends in a wonderful Jewish atmosphere and environment, and ask the questions—what does all that cost—how much does that take up of our synagogue budget and what if those 3-5 families decided—we will donate that amount collectively to the synagogue so that the youth group piece of the budget is covered. And what if 10-15 families who are all friends and who care about B'nai Aviv got together and found out what it costs to run the Religious School and they committed themselves to donate that amount of money for the next few years. And if another group did that for ECEC, and another group really cared about our religious services and took upon themselves the responsibility to cover the costs of the Ritual line of our budget. You get the idea. It was just a few years ago that we were seriously considering expanding our physical plant. And just as we were about to launch the fund-raising campaign, the economy tanked, and the demographics of our community began to change with fewer young families moving in to Weston, and more and more families deciding to move out. This is the reality we must face. So rather than the usual fundraising program where you get to pay for a room or a wing of the building, I would hope that some of you might be willing to put your names on a program rather than on a brick, and maybe that's how we can re-build our fiscal strength. It can't and won't happen without your help. Please think about these ideas as you go through the next few days and as you prepare to come back here next week, on Yom Kippur, when your synagogue president will be making his appeal to you for funds.

Our shul is facing a difficult time—thankfully, we are not quite at the point that Hagar was at—we have not reached the bottom. We are challenged but not desperate. We are nervous but not about to close up. We are concerned, but we are also a community of accomplishment and of hope. As Hagar felt the presence of God at a low point in her life, we too can feel God's presence in our lives as we climb out from the depths of this challenge and discover new sources of strength, resolve, uplift, and enthusiasm right here in this room, in the hearts and consciences of our own congregants who may be inspired to help us hope by hoping for your help.

Clearly what I have mentioned so far can only be done by those whose checkbooks are able to make a difference. The second thing that we need and which can be done by every single person here is simply this. Come into this building without the chips that sometimes sit on some of your shoulders. I have heard raised voices making demands. I have heard raised voices complaining about this or that policy, or about this or that requirement, or about this or that expectation. I have heard people say, "You can't make me do this, I am not Orthodox", as if being Orthodox was such a sin. I have heard people say, "You know I am really Reform," as if that somehow means they don't have to do anything Jewish in their lives. I have heard people say, "if I don't get my child in the class I want I will quit this synagogue." Do any of you really think that all we do here is try to figure out what things we can do to make you miserable? Do any of you really believe that if there are so many square feet in a classroom, and it is completely filled already with bodies and desks and supplies in it, that we can simply stuff one more body in there? Do you think we enjoy saying "no" to you? Do any of you whose voices are sometimes louder than they need to be think that by shouting at someone, you are more likely to get your way, or that because of your shouting, we will ignore the same request made by someone else who is not shouting? Can we all try hard to agree that we are all on the same team, and that what all of us care about is making your family happy and satisfied and content, but that we also have an obligation to raise a generation of young Jews to be knowledgeable about their heritage, involved in their Jewish life, making commitments to keeping this enterprise called Judaism alive for another generation, that we want your children to love being Jewish, and that means, among other things, caring deeply and passionately about Israel, finding the study of Torah exciting and challenging, enjoying the cultural aspects of Judaism such as music and Israeli dance, finding the mysteries of the Hebrew language to be fun and entertaining, that learning our history, our past, is part of what assures us of a future, that we want to encourage all of our children to explore the nature of their own Jewish identities, and to learn about our religious traditions, such as Shabbat and keeping Kosher, not in a forceful or take-it-or-leave-it way, not to belittle what any of you choose to do or not do in your personal lives, but to simply know what these practices are about, simply because they are part of who we are as a People.

What it comes down to my dear friends, is this—we are all stressed out by the economy, by the politics of the day, by tensions within our homes, and from outside our homes. And it should not come as a surprise to anyone that this is part of the culture in which we live. In just one week, three major incidents involving public outbreaks of shouting and of disrespect. A major tennis champion yells and curses at the line judge during a world-class championship match. Then on an awards show broadcast to the entire world, a very well-known entertainer walks on stage while the winner is giving her acceptance speech, and this other guy feels he has the right to interrupt her, grab the microphone and say to the whole world, "You are good, but this other singer should have won." And if those two incidents were not enough, the President of the United States is delivering a major speech to Congress and an individual Congressman feels he has the right to shout out loud, "You lie." I don't care if you are a Republican or a Democrat; I don't care if you love President Obama or hate him, the behavior of the Congressman was embarrassing!! Three examples in one week indicating how common, how acceptable it seems to raise our voices when we are not satisfied. I can guarantee you this, without hesitation. Anger will not help us solve any of the issues we face. It will not make any of them go away. If anything, the synagogue ought to be a place where we come in as an individual and walk out as a community, where we connect with the best that is within ourselves and share it willingly and lovingly with each other, a place where we enter, like Hagar, feeling that we are at the bottom of the well, but exit, like Abraham, feeling that we are on top of a mountain, seeing the world differently, with more clarity, more trust, more faith, and more confidence that God's presence is alive and well within each one of us and in these challenging times, we need to tap into that presence, and feel it and share it and create it with and for each other. I can assure you of this—we do not want to hound you about what you owe to the shul. We want to celebrate what you have to give. In our 20-plus years, so many of you have given so much. Who knows what we will accomplish in the next 20 years? But whatever it is, let's do it with love, with kindness, with the spark of holiness that it demands and assure that this will always be a place of peace.

For those of you who are facing this New Year at the bottom of your well, let's hold hands and climb out from there together, and for those of you who feel you are at the top of the mountain, let's celebrate your good fortune together. Wherever you happen to be, let's all remember that life is a journey, not a destination. The future is unknown and can be scary or it can be an adventure. By facing it together we share our strength, our skills, and our energy so that we can continue on the path ahead with confidence, with faith, and with hope. I believe that every problem has a solution and that every challenge is an opportunity. Let this year be one of seizing those opportunities for growth, accomplishment, and success for ourselves, for our congregation, and for the world.

Rosh Hashana, Second Day, Sermon

2009-11-10T17:02:00.000-05:00

ROSH HASHANA-SECOND DAY—2009

ISAAC AND YISHMAEL

Rosh Hashana, First Day, Sermon

2009-11-10T17:00:00.001-05:00

ROSH HASHANA FIRST DAY—2009/5770

A YEAR WITHOUT MUSIC

I haven't said one word yet and I already know what you are thinking—what Country Music song is the Rabbi going to talk about this year??!! In fact, it has been quite amazing to me these past few years, since I first revealed my affection for Country Music, how many of you have also been fans and have pretty much kept it quiet all these years, as if it were somehow, something to be kept secret, a cause of embarrassment. I have unleashed the lion in many of you and it is actually pretty funny. So why no song this year? Well, it is a fairly simple matter, and a personal one. It is the result of the fact that since my father, zichrono livracha, passed from this world this past February, I have been observing the laws and traditions of mourning, among which is avoiding music. So while I could pull out some golden oldies to talk about, it has been my practice to refer to newer, recent hits as a way of trying to stay current. And, it has been quite challenging and difficult for me to endure this length of time without listening to the Country Music radio stations while driving from meeting to meeting, or back and forth from hospitals or cemeteries, or various people's homes. Frankly, I have no idea what the newest songs are, which ones have risen to the top of the charts, which lyrics I can lean on for a sermonic analysis. And I thought that, instead of sharing my usual review of a particular song, this year I want to share with you what it has meant to me to live an entire year without music.

I want to share with you a personal account of what music means to me—of the role it has played in my life—of how important it has been at so many significant points in my life, as well as in between them—and how difficult it has been to follow the tradition of abstaining from music these past 8 months, with three more to go.

Music was always important to my family. I grew up in a home in which Shabbat meant sitting together at the dining room table for dinner Friday Night and lunch Saturday afternoon. No one left the table before it was really over, and that meant great food, lengthy conversation, and a lot of singing. My Dad was the ringleader, and he conditioned all of us to sing with enthusiasm, and every one of us learned how to harmonize with the rest, whether we were singing traditional Shabbat songs, or chanting the Birkat Hamazon, the Grace After Meals. As each of us was joined by a spouse, they were expected to join in as well, and quickly became part of the Kieffer choir.

When I was in the 6^th grade, I was exposed to piano lessons for the first time, and, of course, I hated it. The teacher was nice enough, sweet and pleasant, which, of course, was the kiss of death—he was nice. Translation—not cool, at all. He taught me to play arpeggios and scales, and then handed me the music to learn—naturally, music of Beethoven, Shubert, Bach, etc. In other words, music that was totally irrelevant to the life of a 12 year old. As a pre-adolescent I only cared about rock and roll. Who cared about Beethoven??!! Meanwhile, my brother Bert, who is almost 3 years older than I am, took some of his Bar-Mitzvah money and bought himself an inexpensive guitar with a book that showed you how to play all the chords. He thought he would teach himself, and after learning three chords, he was pretty much finished. When he wasn't around I would sneak into his room, take his guitar and the chord book and teach myself every chord in the book. After about three months of piano lessons that were going nowhere, my piano teacher talked to my parents and said to them, as nicely and diplomatically as he could, maybe Sammy needs a break from the piano. In other words this is a waste of your money.

So I continued on my own with the guitar and quickly learned to play by ear, and before you knew it the Beatles were in the headlines, about to come to America, and I figured out how to play I Want To Hold Your Hand, and All My Lovin. That made me an instant hero, even though I didn't really have a clue what I was doing. I just knew I enjoyed it. Later that year I got up the chutzpa to write my first song. It was inspired by two of my classmates—Steven Schachter and Susan Adler. Now let me explain that the school I went to was a coed Yeshiva—a relatively small school where everyone knew everyone else, and it became the buzz of the entire school when Steven and Susan, who had been "going together" since Kindergarten, announced to the rest of us that they were now "going steady." None of us knew what that meant, but at the very least, it was clear to all of us that Steven had given Susan his ID bracelet—that's just like giving a diamond ring!! Anyway that event inspired me to write my first song ever, which is called, "Won't You Be My Steady." Since I know you are all dying to hear it, I'll share a few lines:

Won't you be my steady, all the kids are doing it now

I want to show that I love you, please show me how—I can.

I've given you charms and bracelets,

And I've given you everything else, too.

But all I want to show is—that I love you.

I've given you all my time, and I've given you hugs and kisses,

But I can't wait forever, until you're my---Mrs.

What can I tell you—for the next 2-3 years I wrote more and more songs like that one, that no one has ever heard, and probably never will. In the meantime, when no one was looking I found myself on occasion going back to the piano and re-discovered it—I started playing by ear, and trying to apply what I knew about guitar chords to the playing of the piano, and I found that I really enjoyed playing my own kind of music in my own unpolished, unprofessional style. That has continued to today.

Once I got to be about 15, and I am now in high school, and getting involved in USY, I was gradually exposed to a new genre of Jewish music. It's the 60's. Vietnam, Civil Rights, and Soviet Jewry are all big issues, and in the midst of all that, a Chasidic Rabbi, named Shlomo Carlebach, is appearing all over the place performing his music. What made his work unique was that he never wrote the words—only the music. For words, he depended upon the Jewish tradition—he took sentences from the Prayerbook, from the Bible, from the Talmud, and composed his own new music to these ancient words. He was bringing our ancient traditions to life, renewing old words with his new music—it was an unbelievable experience to be exposed to his concerts, and what made him really unique is the fact that he appeared before all kinds of audiences—he appeared in Orthodox shuls, as well as in Conservative and Reform ones. He appeared on college campuses and in Night Clubs in Greenwich Village. Over the course of his lifetime, he composed something like 3000 pieces—just amazing! He would intersperse his songs with Chasidic stories, which would resonate with every audience, religious or secular, and he would have a way of touching every single person sitting there with his spirit, and with his spirituality. His music had a huge impact on my life, and influenced me to develop my Jewish soul as well as my general, human soul through music.

The Six Day War of June, 1967, was a turning point in my personal and religious life, as it was for so many of my contemporaries. I had been brought up to care about and love Israel, but hadn't really thought about it all that much until that war, when the Jewish world faced the real possibility, and it seemed like a likelihood, that we would lose Israel forever. When the war ended with Israel not only victorious, but now holding on to all of Jerusalem, with the ability to go and visit the Kotel, the Western Wall, our generation knew it was experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime event.

So now I am still writing some rock and roll songs, and I am beginning to write some Carlebach-type songs in which I would find a prayer in the Siddur and make up my own melody for it, and now I am also writing songs about Israel and what it means to me—this is a rather unusual combination of topics and themes that had become part of my musical life. Something very intense happened in April of 1968. I am a senior in high school; I have tickets to see a special show from Israel at the Westbury Music Fair that night, an eclectic performance by various singers, dancers, jugglers, comedians, etc—all representing the best entertainers from Israel, and, of course, this is the one and only performance. I am really excited about going with a group of my friends. And just as we are about to leave for the theater, I put the news on and the bulletin came announcing that Martin Luther King was just shot in Memphis, Tennessee. I was stunned and didn't know what to do. Should I go; should I not go? If I go how could I possibly enjoy it with such a tragedy on everyone's mind? On the other hand, if I didn't go, I would never be able to see that show again, and maybe it's especially important to show our Jewish pride? I ended up going, and it was a great show, but, of course I didn't really enjoy it that much, but, hey, I'm a teenager. How can a teenager know the right thing to do? But now I am dealing with an intense mixture of feelings and emotions—a sense, on one hand, of the terrible loss to this country of a true giant of a man, wondering what his death would mean for the Civil Rights Movement in America, which was of great importance to me then, as it continues to be today, and, on the other hand, wanting to share my pride with all that Israel represents and all that it has accomplished with so few resources at its disposal in such a short time.

With all of those emotions stirring inside me, I went back to the piano and found that the only way I could express myself was though music and it was almost as if my fingers had a life of their own—they started playing something that came from deep within me to express the rage over Martin Luther King's death and the admiration I had for him. A day or two later, when the funeral was over, I went back to that piece of music and started writing some words to go with the melody. I don't quite know how to explain this, but it was as if I had written two different songs in one. The melody was, at least in my mind, about King; the words were all about Israel and how it has faced up to severe challenges and managed to keep our faith and hope alive. I don't mind telling you that, in my opinion, it was the most meaningful music I had ever composed before or since, and unfortunately, I lost the words at some point in time, and try as I have, I have never been able to reconstruct the lyrics I wrote to go with that music. But somehow, when I play the music today, I still get emotional on both fronts. It moves me to think that through one composition, I managed to bring together two major themes of my life, two major principles and ideals to which I have devoted my life—that of the centrality of Israel and that of the dignity we owe to every human being on this Earth.

The years have flown by. Life brings with it all kinds of milestones and occasions. And for me, music again became an outlet for my ability to express the meaningfulness of such events. So, for example, when Melinda was pregnant with our first-born, Aryeh, and we were down to the home-stretch, I started writing a song in anticipation of his birth. But you remember what you are like in those last few weeks and days –it's hard to concentrate; you don't know what to expect; you are pre-occupied with so many things, and before I knew it he was here, and I didn't finish my song!! So about a week or two afterwards I found the first verse and managed to complete the song in the middle of the night.

Here are a few lines:

To our unborn child, we're just waiting for you

Don't know what you will be, should we buy pink or blue?

To our unborn child, nine months is so long

But the wait will be worthwhile, if you're healthy and strong.

Your room is ready, it's just waiting for you

The furniture, the clothes, yet there's still so much to do

We feel as if we know you, we already love you so much

The expectation is driving us crazy to look at you and to touch.

To our newborn child, you're better than we thought

The joy you bring us could never be bought

To our newborn child, just want you to know

We'll always be behind you. no matter where you go.

Well, the problem of writing a song for a child is you have now created an expectation for the future. So as we prepared for our middle child, Aviva, life, as usual, got in the way, and no song was forthcoming. Then, ready or not, she arrived, and not quite so smoothly. Within minutes of her birth, the doctor comes over and whispers in my ear that they need our permission to take her by special helicopter to another hospital that had a neo-natal emergency room. I had no idea what neo-natal meant but I was able to guess that this not a good thing! Turns out, she ingested some amniotic fluids and in their attempt to suction it out of her lungs, they made a little tear in her esophagus. We didn't know if we were looking at surgery or if she would ever be able to speak. We really had no idea how serious this might be or if it was all just as a precaution, but, clearly, we were scared out of our minds. There is a funny part of this story. Two of the head doctors in the unit disagreed on how to proceed-one pushing for immediate surgery to repair the tear, and the other convinced that we can wait and see if it would heal itself. Both agreed she was not in a life or death moment, so we chose to hold off as long as possible, and in the end, it did heal itself, and she certainly has no problem with speech. So, thank God, everything ended up fine. A few days into her stay at this other hospital, a stay which lasted over a month, we are sitting in the office of the chief doctor of this incredible neo-natal unit. Obviously, our nerves were shot; we are extremely emotional, and still, at the time, uncertain, whether we had made the right choice or not. As we are talking to this wonderful doctor, we happen to notice his diplomas on the wall, which indicated he graduated from the University of Baghdad. And, of course, right on his desk is that day's newspaper, and the headline read, "Israel destroys Iraqi nuclear reactor." So I'm thinking about running out of there to pick up my newborn baby and get out of there as fast as I can, as far as I can, but instead, this wonderful doctor, gets up from his chair, puts his arms around both of us and calmly says, "Rabbi Kieffer, Mrs. Kieffer—don't worry about the headlines--in the neo-natal unit there are no religions, and no nations—in here we are all one family." That was a very special moment for all of us, which we have never forgotten.

All of that explains some of the words that ended up in her song:

They say all beginnings are difficult

And it certainly has been true with you.

We prayed and we hoped and we loved you all we could,

Everything to pull you through.

In your short time on this Earth, you've taught us a lot.

You have given us a strong reminder.

That so many of us look at the blessings of life

As if we were wearing a blinder.

You our little girl will grow up and be strong

With your own individual style.

Spread your cheer and your love to the whole human race

And be an ayshet chayil.

A few years later, Elana joined us—her birth was as smooth as silk. While Melinda was in the Recovery Room and after being assured that she and Elana were both absolutely fine, I went into the waiting room and began writing her song on the spot, which includes the following:

For so many people life presents,

Moments that anguish and make them tense,

But you just arrive with a smile on your face

And with it our troubles seem to erase,

If only we adults would learn from the infants

That here we have a perfect instance

Of living and loving with no conditions

Relying on each other for our soul's nutritions,

We know you'll develop and make us proud

As you mature step by step and shine through the cloud

And as we place our hopes in you

We respond by saying, "She'heh'chee'anu"

And that little girl now lives on her own in Israel and in the next month or so will be inducted into the Israeli army to serve her country and her people.

So I have shared with you a taste of what role music has played in my life. It has provided me a means of expression, of capturing emotions and feelings that I might otherwise have buried and kept inside. It has been extremely therapeutic for me to come home after a long, hard day and just bang on the piano, whether songs of well-known artists and composers, or those of some of the Jewish superstars we have been privileged to bring to B'nai Aviv over the years, like Craig Taubman, Sam Glaser, Safam, or Debbie Friedman, or even my own compositions, music has been, for me, a haven and a refuge.

You might, therefore, be tempted to ask, why then, would you be willing to deprive yourself of such an outlet? Why would our tradition, impose upon us the expectation that such a haven and refuge would be closed off to us for almost an entire year?

Good question, and here is what I think our tradition's answer might be. The prohibitions during the year of mourning are not impositions upon us. They are, in fact, reflections of what is already inside us. When you lose a family member, you lose part of yourself. You know that part of you will never be the same. In fact, you might be tempted, as an expression of your sorrow, to give up forever some things that you used to enjoy. Our tradition helps us through the sorrow by mandating that certain activities be curtailed or avoided, but for a specific period of time, precisely so that we DON'T give them up forever. The genius of our heritage is in the step by step gradual return to normalcy through the stages of funeral, shiva, shloshim, and yahrzeit. When we first experience our loss we do not want to hear from anyone that we'll get over it, that time will heal, that our emotions are on temporary hold. All of that is true, but none of us wants to hear it or is willing to believe it when the loss is fresh and unfolding. So instead of hitting us over the head with all sorts of philosophical arguments about how when and why we will heal, we are given these stages to follow, which, help us by reflecting our reality rather than by preaching something we are not yet ready to hear or to accept.

I do miss my music—listening, playing, composing, but I know I'll get back to it. I've already thought about the first song I might write when my Kaddish-saying is over—I'm thinking about what it will be like as the year comes to a close and I will have the chance to reflect on all the memories that have accumulated since my father died, all of the details of the life he lived, some of the dreams he left unfulfilled, the concern about the extent to which I lived up to his expectations or failed to, the ways in which I can carry on his memory, and, hopefully, continue to be a source of pride to him. I'm thinking of calling it One More Kaddish, and it will allow me to anticipate, or reflect back upon, the night before the year of mourning is over, with just a few hours of it left. We know we can't and shouldn't keep saying Kaddish forever, but it has been a blessing to have it as part of my daily routine for these past 8 months, for it has allowed me to say good bye to him and yet keep him with me, symbolically, through the words of this special prayer.

What I have learned from my year without music, is that we all have to make our own music; we have to find it within ourselves, within our souls, within our hearts. Music is not only that which comes from instruments or from sheet music, or from recordings. It is a reflection of our own sense of harmony—with the world, with nature, with those we love, and with those we remember this day and every day.

Hamakom yenachem etchem b'toch sh'ar availay Tziyon Vee'rushalayim.

May God bless us all with comfort and healing for all who have suffered loss, for all who have experienced any kind of brokenness and are seeking wholeness, peace, and harmony.

Erev Rosh Hashana Sermon--2009

2009-11-06T12:40:00.002-05:00

A LESSON FROM THE GATES OF JERUSALEM

Moishe is driving around in downtown Jerusalem. He's late for a meeting, the sweat is pouring out of his head. He's looking for a parking space and can't find one. In desperation he turns towards the heavens and says, "Dear God—if you find me a parking place I promise I will be a better Jew—I will eat only Kosher. I will observe the Shabbat carefully, and all the holidays. " And just as he finishes that sentence, miraculously, right in front of him, someone pulls out of a spot and Moishe pulls in. And as he does so, he turns back up to the Heavens and says, "Never mind, I just found one!!"

Well, it looks like everyone tonight found a spot. We have enough seats for everyone. No one has to make a special deal, offer a special promise, commit yourself to something you really do not want to do. Instead you can be honest—with yourself, which is what these High Holidays are all about. What's clear to me is that every single person finds his or her own way into the synagogue, or out of it. Every single person has his or her own unique story, is wallowing in his or her own joy or sorrow, triumph or defeat, happiness or regret. Along those lines there is a new understanding of how the ancient Temple in Jerusalem functioned that has come to us only recently as a result of some of the ongoing archaeological work at the Southern and Western Walls of the Old City. An old passage in the Talmud stated this reality but only recently did the digs reveal the context of this Talmudic passage. It indicates that there were two separate lines to go in or out of the Temple. People coming to pray at the Temple would enter through a gate on the right, bring their offerings, and then leave through a gate on the left. In other words, they went in counter-clockwise. However, mourners, those who were seriously ill, and people seeking a lost object would do the opposite. They would enter through the LEFT gate, travel clockwise, and exit through the right gate. Now I think I can understand why there might be a separate procedure for mourners and for the sick. I can understand that such people might feel out of sync with the worshippers coming into the Temple to celebrate something. But why include a person who has lost something in that category?

One possible explanation is based on something with which I think we can all relate. When you are trying to find something and you can't remember where you left it—the car keys, your cell phone, that piece of paper with a phone number on it—what happens when you can't find it? You go crazy trying to remember where you put it, and if you are going crazy trying to find it, you are unfit company for anyone around you. Maybe that's why such people are in the separate category.

The second possibility is that the lost object mentioned in this passage isn't just any object, like your glasses or your keys. Maybe it refers to a person who has lost his or her faith and comes to the Temple trying to find it. Most of us come to synagogue in a festive mood—we wear our nicest clothes, we have family and friends around us, we look forward to the melodies, the sounds of the shofar, re-connecting with our fellow congregants. There is an air of celebration as we begin the Jewish New Year together.

But every year, there are always some people among us coming from a totally different direction. Some may have come from a doctor's office and when the rest of the congregation is chanting—"B'Rosh Hashana yikatayvoon—It is decided on Rosh Hashana and confirmed on Yom Kippur, who shall live and who shall die, who shall prosper and who shall suffer,"—they hear those words differently than the rest of us.

For some members of the congregation, rather than looking at how many extra seats are filled on these Holidays, they might be looking at the empty seats, the ones that used to be occupied by individuals who are no longer here. They may see their neighbors arriving as couples, as families, and like the mourners in Temple times, they feel out of step with the worshippers around them. There are parents whose children are away at college and it feels strange and sad without them. There are college students here who are glad to be on their own, but who also miss home. There are couples no longer together, who feel challenged in terms of their self-confidence and self-worth because of a separation or a divorce. They may be dealing with jealousy and rage while still facing the tasks and responsibilities of parenting to their confused children. There are older folks whose lost object may be physical activities they were once able to do for themselves and can no longer do so, or whose diminished memory compromises their sense of well-being and of control.

Some in this room are searching for their lost faith, something they may have had as children, but now find themselves overtaken by doubt. The answers they were given in their younger years no longer work for them. They see others here who seem more comfortable with the Hebrew, with the melodies, with the ebb and flow of the services, yet they feel alienated and distant. Either as a result of intellectual speculation, or from life's unpredictable and mysterious ups and downs, many individuals sitting with us throughout these Holidays are uncomfortable, disappointed, and sad that being Jewish and doing Jewish things does not resonate, does not click, does not provide them with joy. They may have had those feelings once, but are hard-pressed to find them or feel them now—their faith is their lost object.

In ancient Jerusalem, such people had their own special entrance to the Temple. They entered by the door through which everyone else was coming out. I suspect this was done, not to embarrass them or to isolate them, and not to keep them away from the other worshippers. I suspect it was done to heal them, so that somehow they would see the other worshippers emerging with smiles on their faces, which would challenge them to devote some time and energy to considering, "how can I organize my life so that I can feel what they feel, so that I can feel whole again, so that I can find myself on a better path, in a better direction, that will help make me feel at home?" Maybe the searchers for lost objects would see the other folks coming out offering hope and comfort to the mourners and the sick, and in the very act of such help and comfort, they might begin to feel it as well and come to the realization that the first step towards healing themselves might be to offer help and love to others.

There was a man crawling on his hands and knees around a lamppost, looking for something. A policeman happened to walk by and asks him what he's looking for. The man says, "I dropped my keys and I can't find them." The policeman says, "Did you drop them here under the lamppost?" "No," the man says, "but it's too dark down the block where I dropped them."

If you are looking for a lost object, you won't find it unless you look where you lost it. But if you are looking for something spiritual, it probably does make sense to look where there is more light. In the days of the Temple, in Jerusalem, many individuals came there to find their lost faith even if that wasn't where they had lost it.

To those of you in pain, wracked by doubt and confusion, I hope that our association with each other, as fellow congregants of B'nai Aviv, will provide the soothing powers of friendship and compassion. I hope that we can all direct the healing powers of togetherness that reside within our hearts and souls towards each other so that we will all feel a new spirit, a new energy, a new commitment to being there with and for each other. May this be a year of healing and renewal for all of us.

Israel Summer 2009 - Personal Reflections

2009-08-09T18:47:00.001-04:00

As our family trip is winding down I wanted to share with all of you our best wishes and hopes that you have had an enjoyable and relaxing summer. I want to share my reactions to some of the day-to-day experiences that we have witnessed and observed during our stay this summer.

For Israelis, politics is one=2 0of their favorite hobbies. Everyone has an op inion about the personalities and policies of the various political parties. It seems as if no one here is indifferent or neutral. This makes for fascinating and lively conversations. One particular element of daily life in Israel is the extent to which there is mingling and interaction of Jews and Arab citizens of Israel in places such as malls, parks, and hotels. This does not mean that they sit at the same tables over coffee, or that they find ways to forge friendships and associations. What it does mean, however, is that these two peoples somehow manage to co-exist in various ways. It also means that one does not get the entire story by a mere reading of the headlines.

This summer we also became fans of Israel's version of "American Idol", a TV program called "Kochav Nolad" (A Star Is Born). Our interest in the show was because=2 0of our friendship with the family of one of the contesta nts, Elchai Refuah,17 years old and the son of Deganit and Jan Refuah, owners of "Ora Gifts of Jerusalem," one of our favorite stores off of Ben Yehuda Street. Deganit has visited our community a few times and feels a very close friendship with all of B'nai Aviv. Elchai has a beautiful voice and is a very talented young man. He is also a deeply committed and proud religious Jew, always wearing a Kipah. Elchai continually represents that special spark of enthusiasm for living in this modern world while maintaining the joy of traditional Jewish observance and practice. After auditions of more than 10,000 talented Israeli teenagers, Elchai was on the TV program as one of the top 15 singers in Israel today. Melinda had the opportunity to go with Deganit to one of the live broadcasts and see him perform and receive enough votes to return the following week. Unfortunately Elchai was eliminated as the 11^th performer. On the night he was sent home, he expressed his gratitude to the fans, his mother and the rest of his family, and God, for "giving him everything." We were so touched by his obvious pride, and by his success in being a true role model for Israel's current teenagers, clearly showing that one can both be modern as well as traditional and observant. Elchai will soon be entering the Israeli Army, and yet we also believe that he will have a promising singing career.

Another special experience for us this summer was being in Jerusalem for Tisha B'Av, the day we commemorate the destruction of the First and Second Temples. The day is one of mourning and fasting and thinking about the many tragedies throughout Jewish History, but especially about the destruction of the holy city of Jerusalem, some 2000 years ago. It is quite ironic to experience this day in the very city that is described in the texts we read on Tisha B'Av and especially, to see the many construction cranes throughout the city working hard to rebuild this ancient city in our time. I spent Tisha B'Av eve with Glen & Lisa Ladau's Masorati/Conservative synagogue, sitting on the Talyelet Overlook towards the Old City – a most fitting place to read the Book of Lamentations, describing the destruction of Jerusalem.

Throughout our six weeks here we also had the special joy of spending time with a number of B'nai Aviv families. We had a delightful Shabbat with Glen and Lisa Ladau and their beautiful children. We spent an evening with Aron and Rica Leibowich and their children who spent time here as a family. Noah Lubin, one of our B'nai Aviv teenagers, was here with USY Poland/Israel Pilgrimage, and we managed to visit with him and hear about his exciting experiences with USY. Finally, Marc and Annette Gutt are here with their children and we plan on seeing them over the next few days. Clearly, B'nai Aviv has been well-represented here this summer.

This=2 0vacation has also provided us with quality time with our daughter, Elana, who moved here last summer. She is content and fulfilled with her new life as an Israeli. Soon she will enlist in the Israel Defense Forces, even though she is not obligated to do since she is 25 years old and is beyond draft age. After an initial period of basic training, she will enter a special unit, as yet to be named, having been recruited for various positions within the Army. I will share more details about this after the High Holidays. We have also had the joy and pleasure of sharing an apartment with our son and daughter-in-law, Aryeh and Arielle, and their four beautiful children, Bayla, Naftali, Netanel, and Amiel. It has been quite an adventure seeing and experiencing Israel through the childrens' eyes. Our middle daughter and son-in-law, Aviva and Seth, and their three children, Elianna, Tehila, and Liba are now also here and our stays here will overlap for a few days. Our various schedules were coordinated so that we could all be here to celebrate the Bar-Mitzvah of one of our Israeli cousins, which will be our final Shabbat here. At last count we now have 43 Israeli cousins – with our newest cousin, Shira, born 2 weeks ago – and 4 more baby cousins due within the next few months! The Bar Mitzvah will give us all a chance to be together at the same time – which doesn't often happen!

This vacation began with an intense two-week program of study for both Melinda and me. I participated in the Rabbinic Seminar at the Hartman Institute, a program that brings together North American Rabbis who are Conservative, Orthodox, and Reform, spending long hours, usually from 8:30am till 10:00pm, engaged in serious study of Jewish texts, grappling with issues and concepts that are both ancient and contemporary, attempting to draw out of ancient debates and dialogues some insights and precedents for addressing some of the issues we find ourselves confronting in our own day. Melinda was privileged to be one of a handful of Jewish educators from around the world to be invited by Yad Vashem to participate in the Holocaust Educators Seminar. This intense two-week program of engagement in Holocaust studies, gave the participants inside access to Yad Vashem9s vast resources while also affording the opportunity to learn with the leading scholars of Holocaust history, many of whom have created the many exhibits at Yad Vashem. In addition this group of educators, including Melinda, helped to write new units of Holocaust Education which will be included in future Yad Vashem publications. I know that she will share more details about this at a later time.

A final observation on this summer's experience: As I am still within the first year of mourning and saying Kaddish for my father, of blessed memory, I have found myself attending services all over the country in all kinds of communities and synagogues, each with its own unique traditions and practices. There is one synagogue a few blocks from our rental apartment, which has a daily schedule of continuous services from morning till night. You can walk in there any time of day and every ten minutes or so another service will begin. Consequently you can join a minyan at almost any time when you arrive. Another unusual prayer experience for me was the little shul in the Malcha Mall, one of the largest malls in Israel. In this beautiful chapel, services are held at various times of the day and night. The ark was imported from Italy and was made in the 17^th century! Part of the beauty of Judaism is the diversity within it. I have davened with Sephardic Jews, Ashkenazic Jews, Ultra-Orthodox Jews, Modern Orthodox Jews, Conservative Jews, and every shade between. Experiencing that diversity has proven to be one of the unplanned joys of our summer in Israel and I know that my Father, who passionately loved Israel, would have been pleased to know this.

It is difficult to use the word "vacation" to describe a trip to Israel. For us, it is more of a re-charging of the batteries, physical , emotional, and spiritual. We feel energized and ready to take on the tasks before us upon our return. Almost immediately we will begin our preparations for the High Holidays and the new school year. May this prove to be a period of renewal and re-strengthening of our individual and collective lives. The harsh economic realities of this past year are still very much with us and they will continue to challenge us individually and collectively. They clearly will have an impact on the day-to-day affairs of our synagogue. I am personally committed to doing everything in my power to helping us achieve a stronger fiscal condition while continuing to pursue the enrichment of our spiritual growth as well.

& nbsp; Shalom from Jerusalem,

Rabbi Sam Kieffer

Just A Typical Jerusalem Night. . .

2008-07-08T11:07:00.001-04:00

Tonight, sitting on a beautiful Jerusalem hill at Yad Vashem, overlooking the city as the sun set, we participated with 700 Holocaust Educators from around the world in an Opening Ceremony for the Yad Vashem International Holocaust Education Conference - "Teaching The Shoah: Fighting Racism and Prejudice."

Having been to Poland numerous times with the March Of The Living, having been to Israel many more times, it's easy to assume that there's not too much more to experience about the Holocaust and the role of Israel. Not true.

After the usual speeches by various government officials, we were then treated to the Ramat Gan Children's Harmonica Orchestra in memory of Shmuel Gogol,z"l. We learned tonight that this man was saved by Janusz Korchak, who gave him a harmonica - perhaps to merely distract him from overbearing sadness he was experiencing during the Shoah. Shmuel had vowed to himself that if he survived the Shoah, he would make the harmonica central to his life. When Shmuel settled in Israel, he began a children's harmonica orchestra choir, and tonight they played various Hebrew and Yiddish songs in his memory. This beautiful group of 20 children, filled the Jerusalem air with their simple yet poignant melodies.

Rabbi Israel Meir Lau, former Chief Rabbi of Israel, then took the podium. He related how, as a 3 year old boy in Poland, he lost his parents and was put in the care of an older brother and somehow, together they survived and eventually, after the Shoah, arrived in Israel. He shared that an aunt and uncle raised him, and in the 1950's the prevailing psychological wisdom was that child survivors should never be encouraged to speak about their traumatic experiences or to try to remember those they lost. He remembers hearing about "The Diary of Anne Frank," but being prevented from reading it - for fear that it would encourage non-stop feelings of sadness. However, one evening when he was babysitting for neighbor's children, he found this book in their living room. Within one evening he read this entire diary and he remembers the profound effect it had on him - for it told merely one story, yet he couldn't help but also think that one day of his experience in Auschwitz would make her story sound mild. Yet he was encouraged not to speak of it. However, of course, as he matured he did speak, write and remember his experiences and those he lost. He implored all of us not to just teach about numbers and dates and locations of the Holocaust, but to take one individual and make that person's life come alive for our students - as Anne Frank did for him.

We saw a short film, showing plans for a future addition to Yad Vashem - a children's museum where children of various ages will learn about the Holocaust with age appropriate activiites.

We also learned about the ongoing work of Yad Vashem and how an elderly Israeli woman came to search for her family's name and shtetl. To her surprise she learned that her parents as well as 2 siblings had survived the Shoah and were living in the States. Unfortunately only her brother was now living and we saw the two of them reunited at Ben Gurion airport - after 63 years!

The highlight of the evening came when Dudu Fisher took the stage. He shared with us that he too, is the son of a survivor. His father was hidden, for 18 months, by a Polish family. To celebrate his father's recent 80th birthday, he flew to Israel the son of this Polish family - who saved his father. He went on to say that 2 years ago, during the height of the last Lebanese War, he begged his parents to leave their home in Northern Israel and come to his home in central Israel. Dudu's father responded that the Nazis made him leave his home once - and he will never do this again. . .

Fisher's songs were a mixture of happiness and tears. I can't remember ever sitting on a Jerusalem hill, singing "Lach Yirushalayim" with such a strong voice leading us. He also sang from Les Miserables, "Bring Them Home," and dedicated this to all soldiers waiting to come home. . .the 3 missing Israeli soldiers were on all our minds. He sang a new song he just received called, "What Will Happen To The Memories When The Last Survivor Fades Away. . ." And not to think that it was all teary, he reprised his Broadway Tevye role and sang various songs from Fiddler on The Roof and finally concluded with "My Yiddeshe Mama," dedicating this to all mothers everywhere. Then all 700 of us walked through the dark night back to the buses at the entrance, feeling energized by all of this.

Tomorrow I will spend more time with our Aunt Dvorah as she prepares to visit the United States and visit the son of the man who saved her life and her parents and siblings 64 years ago in Vienna - Hirham Bingham. His story is not yet well known enough, however his son, Robert has recently published an important book about his father's heroic acts - and on the cover of this book are the photos of Aunt Dvorah and her siblings. To learn more about him go to http://pages.cthome.net/WWIIHERO/ Aunt Dvorah's asked me, "what do I say to Robert when I meet him?" What DOES one say to the son of the man who saved her life?

However lest you think that all we've done on our summer vacation is to cry and feel sad, we've had a wonderful time of learning as well as reconnecting with old friends, hearing Shlomo Gronich in concert (!), eating incredible meals and of course, helping the economy through my personal commitment of "Zionism Through Shopping"! And of course the highlight for us will be this Thursday morning, when we greet our daughter, Elana, at Ben Gurion Airport, as she arrives on her Aliyah flight with 250 other American olim. You can watch the welcoming ceremony with a new technological wonder:

LIVE ALIYAH WEBCAST: Watch your loved ones arrive in Israel and be greeted at an emotional Welcoming Ceremony! Live from Israel…Nefesh B'Nefesh introduces our new worldwide arrival ceremony webcast. Simply log on to watch your friends and family land in Israel as new Olim, and view the festive Welcoming Ceremony where we celebrate their Aliyah together with hundreds of flag-waving guests and dignitaries. Tune into www.nbn.org.il/2008arrival!

Elana's flight arrives, God willing, at 7am Thursday morning, Israel time. So if you're up late Wednesday night/Thursday early morning, log on and maybe you will see Elana and us!

B'shalom,
Melinda/Malka

Photo Of Our Group

2008-07-01T11:14:00.001-04:00

Back Row left to right:
Jason Chadler, Rabbi Kieffer, Melinda Kieffer, Steven Weiner, Jed Sanders, Debbie Stark, Rick Stark, Lisa Goldberg, Erin Goldberg, Stephanie Goldberg, Barry Goldberg
Front Row left to right:
Meredith Chandler, Ryan Weiner, Daniel Wolfe, Megan Weiner, Leslie Weiner, Brandon Wolfe, Robbie Goldberg, Stacy Wolfe, Marilyn Nachman, Larry Wolfe

Message From Israel - June 19, 2008

2008-06-19T14:34:00.002-04:00

From Rabbi & Melinda in Israel!

Dear B'nai Aviv Family,

Our 21 group members arrived in Israel this morning and despite the jet-lag, we still managed to have a full day of touring in the Tel Aviv area. For almost the entire group of adults and all of the children - this is their first time in Israel - and already with just 12 hours of being here - they are all in love with this land!Once we arrived at our gorgeous Tel Aviv hotel, most of our group crossed the street and went for a dip into the Mediterranean Sea before we met for dinner. Together we watched the sun set over the Sea and talked about all that they are already feeling about being here. They want to tell you that they already feel at home and very safe and very welcome!This Shabbat we will be staying at Kibbutz Lavi in Northern Israel - the Kibbutz which made our Sanctuary seats! Saturday night our cousins will be hosting our group at their nearby home on a Moshav and hearing from them and their children about their daily lives - which they view as holy and sacred.Sunday we will have jeep rides on the Golan Heights, Monday we arrive in Jerusalem and later in the week experience camel riding in the Judean Desert with our dinner in a tent that belongs to Abraham and Sarah!We are looking forward to the Service for our 4 B'nai Mitzvah, which we will celebrate next Thursday at the Kotel, the Western Wall! And we still will have many more tours and experiences before our trip concludes on Saturday night, June 28th!I am sending warm wishes of Shalom to you from our group

-The Chandlers, Goldbergs, Sanders, Starks, Weiners, Wolfes and us!

Should Jewish Children Celebrate Halloween?

2007-10-08T21:27:00.001-04:00

I have received a number of inquiries about whether or not it is proper or appropriate for Jewish children to celebrate Halloween. Obviously, this must be a personal choice, yet this background information may be helpful in your decision making process. I am sharing the following with you for informational purposes only.

Halloween, or All Hallows Eve, is the name given to October 31^st or All Saints Day. It long antedates Christianity. The two chief characteristics of ancient Halloween were the lighting of bonfires and the belief that this is the one night of the year during which ghosts and witches are most likely to wander about.

The name Halloween means HALLOWED or HOLY EVENING, because it takes place on the day before All Saints Day. In the 700’s, the Roman Catholic Church named November 1^st as All Saints Day. The old pagan customs and the Christian feast day were combined into the Halloween festival.

All Saints Day is a holy day observed by many Christians on November 1^st. It honors all Christian saints, especially those who do not have days named for them. Gradually, the feast was extended to commemorate all saints, in addition to those who had given their lives for their faith. In the Roman Catholic Church, All Saints Day is a holy day of obligation, when Catholics are required to attend Mass and to refrain from unnecessary servile work. Halloween takes its name from All Saints Day because October 31^st was called All Hallows Eve, “Eve of all the Holy Ones’ Day.”

One could certainly argue that this background information is irrelevant since the ancient pagan atmosphere has long been replaced by the contemporary practice of “trick or treating” which is simply fun for all children regardless of religious heritage. On the other hand, it is accurate to say that those Jewish families who avoid Halloween do so precisely because of the religious associations outlined above. It is for this reason that regardless of the choices made by any individual family, it would be inappropriate for any Halloween observance to take place within the synagogue.

On one fact all parties can agree – PURIM is the day on which Jews wear costumes, masks and enjoy merry-making in the synagogue! Although there are some synagogues who tell their congregants that it is forbidden to celebrate Halloween, I am not prepared to make such a blanket statement. Nevertheless, there are some families who genuinely want to know why Halloween is an issue at all for Jews. It is in that spirit that this information is being shared with you. I hope you find it helpful.

Shalom,

Rabbi Samuel S. Kieffer

Letter From Melinda

2007-07-10T10:25:00.001-04:00

Dear Family & Friends,

I'm writing this now in an Internet Cafe at the Central Bus Station in Jerusalem. I just took the 2 hour bus tour of Jerusalem - something I've wanted to do for years - just to see if I would see something new that I haven't seen in the more than 20 times I've been here - and YES - I saw 3 new areas I've never been to and now will return another time to see it up close.

I'm writing this alone, even though I have my husband's input. He just hasn't had time with all of his classes and "homework" from the Hartman Institute, where he is 5 days a week from 8:30 am till usually 6:30pm - and loving every minute of these stimulating and intellectually probing classes. He has studied with world-class Bible, Talmud & Midrash teachers - and I have attended some of the classes with him. There are about 130 Rabbis there - mostly American with some from South America and France - Reform, Conservative, Orthodox - all sitting together, learning together - sometimes in Chevruta/partner learning style, sometimes in a classroom format/sometimes in a lecture hall. This realized dream of Rabbi David Hartman, originally from the USA, was to create an Institute where learned Jews would come together just for this exact purpose - and to see it is wonderful - it's one of the few places in the world where this happens! Plus we have re-connected with many Rabbis & spouses who we know from before our Seminary days - and that's been an added bonus. He is loving every morsel of Torah that he is learning during these two vacation weeks.

I have already begun work on my Chagall Window Curriculum project, having been treated like a "V.I.P." when I arrived at Hadassah Hospital to learn more about these beautiful windows. In addition to meeting someone who worked with Chagall when the windows were first installed in the 1950's (she gave me so many incredible tidbits of information and human interest about Chagall), I was given access to a large amount of information about each of the windows, Chagall's interpretation, and the purpose and meaning of each window. My Hadassah liason then insisted on taking me into the new Trauma Center (which thankfully was totally empty) and then into the extremely large and busy Emergency Center (which makes E.R. look like kindergarten!). While I was sitting in the Synagogue, viewing the windows, a group of Senate & Congressional aides came in, sponsored by AICPAC. Apparently they were on a pre-mission to set up a Fall Mission for their "bosses." The majority of them were not Jewish and it was extremely interesting to watch their reactions to the Windows, and then they also went into the Trauma Center & Emergency Center. I could see the shock on some of their faces, as they saw Arabs and Jews being treated and examined, side by side. THIS RARElY MAKES THE NEWS!

Meanwhile we've celebrated the birth ofour newest Israeli Kieffer - baby Tamar born last week-which makes the total count of our Israeli family to be 32 - think - I might not have counted everyone! But it's also incredible to know that Tamar's great-grandmother, our Aunt Devorah (who spent Shabbat with us last year at Bnai Aviv) is an Holocaust Survivor. . .think what the potential could have been for the 6 million who did not survive. . .
We've spent last Shabbat with Glen & Lisa Ladau & their children at their beautiful shul, Moreshet Avraham in the Talpiot neighborhood of Jerusalem. We were given such a warm welcome from the shul members and even there we saw old friends and familiar faces from even our high school years! Barry & Sharon Schechter and their sons are staying with the Ladaus and we all had a wonderful Shabbat Lunch at the Ladau's beautiful and spacious home. (Is it a surprise to anyone that Lisa had an endless amount of delicious food??) Glen & Lisa and their girls are in the Czech Republic with Shane playing on the Israeli Team for the Internanational Little League Tournament! And Tyler (14 years old) is in Italy now playing on the Israel Team for his age group! What an experience for this new immigrant family! They will all return here next week.

I am filled with pride as each day we read about the Sudanese from Darfur literally walking across Egypt to get to Israel! There are already a few hundred here, living in Beer Sheva. No one else is willing to take them in! And why Israel does - even though these people are mostly Moslem! What a country!

I have continued my volunteer work with Friends For Israel and have also connected with another important organization called,
Yashar L'Chayal - which means "Straight To The Soldier." This organization literally fills wish lists for soldiers - of supplies, clothing, visits, etc. The times I've been with these soldiers has filled me with pride - and especially knowing that they are younger than my own children!

Tomorrow we will see Sue & Gavin Susman and their children who are here visiting with their family and making plans for Ariel's Bat Mitzvah here next summer!

Yesterday I went to the Biblical Zoo - an amazing place of animals and plants - all mentioned in the Torah!

We leave Israel this Saturday night, after Shabbat, and we are already wondering when we will return here next - either with a shul group or on our own. Israel continues to spiritually fill us up, inspire us and recharge our emotional and Jewish batteries!

We know that the Manellas, Weiss', Rosens, Schechters, Cohens and Kesslers will agree with all of the above. And I know that all of them are making plans for when they will return here too!

Both my husband I wish all of you a wonderful summer!
Love from Jerusalem!

Melinda & Rabbi

Message from the Kieffers

2007-07-03T14:14:00.001-04:00

Dear Friends,

Some of you know that a few months ago we had planned to leave Israel at the end of June and instead of staying for our two week study/vacation period - go to London and then Liverpool where Melinda could finally realize her dream of going to the "birthplace" of The Beatles (payback for when she had to go to Graceland with me!).

Well. . .we had changed our minds just before leaving for Israel and decided to rent an apartment here for two weeks and remain for study and relaxation and spending time with relatives & friends.

Our original plan would have had us land in London YESTERDAY - stay there a few days and then fly to Liverpool!!!

And now what we are constantly seeing on European CNN is "how dangerous it is to be in London - or anywhere in Great Britain right now!" Their terror level is now at "critical." What a change - not seeing Israel typecast as a "dangerous place to be!"

And just to let you know - we moved into our 2 bedroom apartment yesterday and spent the evening at Glen & Lisa Ladau's beautiful home, had a bar-b-que there to celebrate the live broadcast of the Israel Professional Baseball Game (Bet Shemesh vs Tel Aviv!).

Today Rabbi began his two week seminar at the Shalom Hartman Institute with 200 Rabbis from all the various movements. Melinda traveled (alone) up to Nesher, near Haifa, where she's been invited to have our Religious School participate in a special "Partnership 2000" program sponsored by our Broward Federation. Tonight after the evening lecture at Hartman's we strolled the beautiful Jerusalem neighborhood of Emek Refaim, had a light dinner and then finally returned to our apartment close to midnight.

Tomorrow Rabbi returns for a full day of study from morning till late evening at Hartman's while Melinda begins her "Chagall Window" project at Hadassah Hospital.

And so it goes - in "quiet" Israel!!!

B'shalom,

Rabbi Sam & Melinda

2nd Letter From Israel

2007-07-01T22:09:00.001-04:00

Dear Family & Friends,

With just a few hours before Shabbat begins in Jerusalem, we wanted to share with you the unusual experience we've had today. We have been extremely fortunate that our tour guide, Lior Zagury, (who we have worked with for the last 6 years) is also the Founder and Executive Director of "Friends for Israel" - http://www.friends-for-israel.org Lior began this organization last summer during the War with Lebanon, supplying emotional support as well as actual supplies for the thousands of people who were confined to bomb shelters for 34 days in the northern border towns of Israel. You probably remember that Rabbi Sam along with David Kessler, Barry Schechter,
Michael Nyman, Karen & Ed Henry went to Israel just as the war ended to be of assistance to Lior in distributing donations as well as being a physical presence to many who felt scared and alone.

Two weeks ago our first B'nai Aviv group visited a special needs pre-school in Nahariya that was severly damaged last summer. At that time the group left a large amount of tzedakah donations so that the pre-school could be restored and that many of their supplies, toys and other equipment could be replaced. Two weeks ago Ross, Susan, David & Morgan Manella, David, Sheryl, Amanda, Adam & Alex Weiss, Wayne & Bonnie Rosen and us went to this very pre-school, played with this special kids and heard about what has happened there over the last year. We know that these B'nai Aviv families are forever changed because of this particular visit. Of the many wonderful and fun experiences we had, we know that they will never forget this particular day.

And now our 2nd shul group agreed to give up their last day of touring and shopping to instead spend most of today at a make-shift village called "Nitzaneet." This grouping of trailers, mobile homes and cargo containers is the place that 100 families have lived for the last two years, since they were forced to abandon their beautiful homes in Gaza, their section was called "Nitzaneem." They are a little over a an hour from Jerusalem, between Ashdod & Ashkelon. Through donations that have been made to the Rabbi's Discretionary Fund, we were able to provide their small community center with arts & crafts supplies, some furniture, toys & puzzles - and most of all paint for a sorely needed makeover.

We arrived there around 9:30am and their Mayor as well as many of the community leaders and children greeted us with a large presentation of fruit, cake, cheeses, drinks, etc. None of us wanted to take their food yet they told us that by sharing their food it was helping them to feel normal, like a "balabusta" or hostess as one of them told us. They played a DVD for us that they had made of their Gaza homes before and during the Disengagement - and it was too hard for most of them to watch as they saw their beautiful homes now gone. Many of them walked away as we continued to watch. Once it ended one of the women, described why they moved to Nitzaneem, most of them at least 20 years ago, as a matter of ideology as well as the wonderful atmosphere of living along the Mediterranean Sea. At the time they moved there, most of them had good relations with the neighboring Arabs in Gaza. They told us that it all began to seriously change about 9 years ago.

We listened to their frustration, being out of work, having little or no money, since they could not sell their homes and have only been given a small compensation from the government. They are hoping to be moved to better housing soon - they were promised that it was to have already happened. In the meantime, they live in substandard housing, in close quarters - extremely different from the large homes and beautiful gardens they had in Gaza.

Our task was to spend the time painting the children's playroom of their community center, put together the children's furniture and play with some of the new games and toys that were purchased with our funds. One of the women took our group to see the reality of her incredibly small home and the difficult conditions she lives with.

While our group continued with their projects in Nitzaneet, Lior and the two of us went by taxi to Sderot, about 20 minutes away, where we picking up 100 shwarma sandwiches and drinks for the 100 young soldiers nearby on their base along the border with Gaza. Sderot has been hit by 1800 Kassam missles in just the last year alone - and this has been going on for 7 years! Lior told us that people are suffering from depression and post traumatic stress from these constant missle attacks. Six weeks ago Lior was in Sderot when a missle hit, about 100 feet from where he was standing. At that time 2 people were killed and 90 were wounded. . . but we had decided that if these people could continue to live somewhat normal lives, we could spend about an hour there. Lior showed us various areas where missles hit homes and stores, and we went inside the home of "Daveed & Shula" who were trying their best to patch up large holes where a missle narrowly missed Daveed and his son a few weeks ago. Their kids are now sleeping in their bomb shelter, but there isn't room for all of them - so Shula and Daveed sleep on mattresses in a windowless corner of their living room. Their home is gorgeous and large, with marble floors and 3 stories. Their home and their neighbors rival the homes in Weston - but now they are pratically worthless - they can't sell them and without selling them they have no money to move anywhere else. Plus they also feel that if they abandon Sderot, they are giving the Palestinians

We purposely bought the food there so as to help their town's economy (and I even managed to run into a jewelry store and quickly purchase an unusual Magen David which I immediately wore!).

Our main reason for going to the Gaza Army Base was to visit Yoni Rubin, an officer there who originally is from Hollywood, Florida and attended Hillel Day School with our daughter, Elana. He's also been on The March Of The Living with us and we've known his mother, Susan, for quite some time (she lives in Boca). Our first group met Yoni 3 weeks ago when he had the Shabbat off and joined us at our Jerusalem hotel for Shabbat Dinner and shared some of his experiences with them. At that time he invited the two of us to visit him on his base, feeling the Base Commander would allow it for us if it was "quiet." During this past week, if you're aware of the news, there has been a lot of "activity" in Gaza, and so our trip was on again and off again many times. Late last night Yoni called to say that it would be ok for us to visit.

I can't really describe the faces of these young soldiers as we pulled up with all the shwarmas & drinks in the taxi's trunk! Yoni clearly became an immediate hero in their eyes! But these soldiers were shy about taking the food, wanting to make sure that we had for ourselves. . .they gave us a very quick tour of their base, saw some of their equipment and got a quick briefing of what their days are like.

Then we quickly took pictures, kissed and hugged them and they presented us with two flags which represent their Givati Brigade - to bring back to B'nai Aviv.

On our way back to Nitzaneem we got the news that 15 minutes after we left, a Kassam missle fell in Sderot, falling in an open field. . . near where we had just driven. . .

We returned to Nitzaneet to find our group so proud of what they accomplished by the painting, building, playing and just spending time with these proud fellow Jews.

If you would like to be part of the important work of "Friends for Israel," feel free to send any amount of donation to the "Rabbi's Discretionary Fund" and mail it to Rabbi Sam Kieffer at B'nai Aviv, 1410 Indian Trace, Weston, Florida 33326. Lior has asked me to join his International Board of Advisors, in the capacity of Director of Educational Projects (a volunteer position). With the help of these two groups of B'nai Aviv families, we will create Bar/Bat Mitzvah Tzedakah Projects as well as develop other programs and projects to continue to support the important work of Friends for Israel.

Best wishes to all of you for a peaceful Shabbat Shalom!

Melinda & Rabbi Sam Kieffer

Letter From Israel

2007-06-28T17:47:00.000-04:00

Dear B'nai Aviv Family,

I am writing to you from beautiful Kibbutz Kfar Blum in the northern part of Israel. The B'nai Aviv families who are with us have planted trees in a J.N.F. Forest, climbed to one of the highest lookout points towards Jerusalem, walked in the underground tunnels of the Western Wall, SHOPPED till WE DROPPED (almost every day!), lit Shabbat candles on the walls of the Old City, then walked to the Kotel (Western Wall) for Friday Night Kabbalat Shabbat services, where at least 10,000 other Jews from all over the world gathered to celebrate the beginning of Shabbat, davened at the beautiful Conservative Synagogue Headquarters Shabbat morning, relaxed throughout Shabbat day (at the pool, taking walks, etc), shopped (again!) on Ben Yehuda Street in downtown Jerusalem (which was filled with thousands of people!) and then today began our trip up north, passing the ancient city of Jericho, visiting the mystical city of Sfat (where we studied about Kabbalah and mysticism - as well as shopped our way through their incredible artists' colony. And all of this is only in the first 4 days!Tomorrow morning we are going kayaking on the Jordan River - while members of our Weston neighborhood First Baptist Church are being baptized in the same river (but not the same location!). In the afternoon we will head up into the Golan Heights and then enjoy dinner at Lake Tiberias. Following this we will meet with our First Baptist Church friends for dessert and shmoozing - in order to compare our experiences. This will be a unique experience since there are not many synagogues and churches who plan ahead to meet in Israel, and hopefully we will continue our discussions when we both return to Weston.Everyone in our group, from the youngest to the oldest wants you to know that we feel completely SAFE and HAPPY and PRIVILEGED TO BE IN THE LAND OF ISRAEL - OUR Land of Israel!Regards to all from Lisa Ladau and her 4 children (Glen was in Florida this week) and it's been wonderful to see how she and her children have become true Israelis!We have much more to experience but everyone here wants you to know that Israel is waiting for your visit! We"ll save some felafel for you!

Shalom from Israel,
Rabbi & Melinda