Click below for the text of the entire resolution:

Do not oppress your neighbor and do not rob; the wages earned by a day laborer shall not remain overnight with you until the morning. (Lev. 19:13)

BACKGROUND

The dignity of the worker in Jewish tradition is rooted in the dignity of the human being created in the image of God. Of equal standing before God, the employee and the employer are each servants of God, thereby equal in relation to each other, each with responsibilities toward the other. Jewish law affirms the personal autonomy of workers. “Rav said: A worker can withdraw from employment even in the middle of the day without loss.” (Bava Metzia 77a).

On the other hand, workers are required to be honest and responsible. In the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides offers a biblical paradigm for honest employees. Before leaving his father-in-law’s employ, Jacob turned to Rachel and Leah and said: “As you know, I have served your father with all my strength” (Genesis 31:6). Citing this source, Maimonides ruled that “just as an employer must not cheat an employee, so too the employee must not cheat the employer. In what way does an employee cheat an employer? By wasting a bit of time here and a bit of time there, until the entire day has been craftily passed, with little or no work done. An employee should be like the righteous Jacob who worked with all his might for his employer” (Hilchot S’chirut, 13:7).

Though each has responsibilities to the other, the relationship between a worker and an employer is ultimately a power relationship, in which workers are the vulnerable party. The Torah anticipates the ease with which a worker can become dependent and thereby mistreated. Regarding the obligations of employers to employees, the Torah says “You shall not abuse a needy and destitute laborer, whether of your own people or a stranger…. You must pay the worker’s wage on the same day, before the sun sets… lest in crying out to God against you, you will incur guilt.” (Deuteronomy 24:14-15). The Torah is clear in its demand that employers treat workers justly, and Jewish law protects the worker from exploitation and neglect by employers.

Jewish ethical teachings have consistently favored the right for workers to organize in order to secure improved labor conditions and fair wages. One Rabbinic work teaches, “Wool workers and dyers have the right to say, ‘We will all be partners in any business that comes to the city.’ Bakers have the right to arrange their shifts.” (Tosefta Bava Metzia 11:24)

From Samuel Gompers until today, Jews have played a central role in the American labor movement. Protection of workers in American law came through the courage and determination of workers to join together, and through unions to speak with one voice. Responsible for much that is taken for granted today, such as safety standards in the workplace, child labor laws, minimum wage, collective bargaining, and the two-day weekend, unions continue to be essential for ensuring the rights and dignity of workers..

Unfortunately, the rights of workers and enforcement of laws protecting those rights have been eroded since Congress passed the National Labor Relations Act in 1935. Current federal labor law is not protecting workers’ freedom to form unions and bargain. Companies intimidate, harass, coerce and even fire people who try to organize unions.

Approximately 40 million employees, encompassing 29 percent of all private-sector workers and 35 percent of all publicsector workers, are denied any legally protected rights to form unions and bargain collectively.  Excluded workers include independent contractors, supervisors, managers, students, workers in the Department of Homeland Security, and public employees in many states.

For the majority of workers who do have the legal right to form unions and bargain collectively, the law just doesn’t work.  Companies intimidate, harass, coerce and even fire people who try to organize unions. Workers are fired in one-quarter of private-sector union organizing campaigns, and most workers who try to form unions are subjected to repeated, coercive, one-on-one, anti-union meetings with their supervisors.

Furthermore, after a majority of workers have joined together to form a union and asked for recognition from their employer, the employer can refuse to recognize the union and instead require an election be held, during which employers can continue campaigns of threats, intimidation, and harassment.  These campaigns are so coercive that Human Rights Watch has determined that The United States is in violation of the fundamental human right to organize unions.

Even when workers successfully form unions, 44 percent of the time they can’t get a first contract because the majority of employers delay negotiations endlessly, thereby preventing workers who have chosen to form a union from ever reaching a collective bargaining agreement.

The lack of fair and enforceable labor law in the United States is an urgent crisis not only for individual workers, but for the economy as a whole.

The Employee Free Choice Act will help workers achieve the American Dream by removing some unfair barriers to union representation and collective bargaining.  It removes the power from the employer to determine if a majority of employees have formed a union, and grants that determining power to the National Labor Relations Board.  It also strengthens the ability of the National Labor Relations Board to enforce violations of labor law by imposing strong penalties on employers who fail to obey the law. EFCA also implements a system of mediation and binding arbitration for collective bargaining of the first contract so that workers who have chosen to form a union are guaranteed a collective agreement.

Our Jewish ethical tradition instructs us to protect the weak from exploitation by the mighty and to treat laborers fairly and honestly. It is time to reinforce these ancient ideals by supporting national labor law reform.

Therefore, be it resolved that the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association supports legislation, beginning with the Employee Free Choice Act, which strengthens the right of workers to collective bargaining.

Be it further resolved that the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association urges rabbis to:

• Sign the http://rabbisforworkerschoice.org/ petition
• Raise awareness in congregations, communities, campuses, schools and organizations of the importance of unions and collective bargaining and the need for labor law reform
• Support workers who are in struggles with management for their rights
• Employ union labor where possible
• Hold all events, both communal and personal, in union-friendly venues.
• Consider the rights of those who work in our buildings and institutions, including those of professional staff and administrative support, as well as those who care for our buildings, whether contracted or salaried workers. In addition, we ask rabbis and congregations to be concerned for the ethical treatment of all employees of the services we use.

Be it further resolved that, whenever possible, the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association pledges to hold all RRA conventions, programs and events in hotels that have no outstanding or ongoing labor disputes.

Be it further resolved that this resolution will be distributed to the media and to organizations working for worker justice. This resolution should also be publicized throughout the Reconstructionist movement.

Be it further resolved that the RRA empowers the RRA Executive Director and members of the RRA Board to speak out publicly on its behalf on this issue, and encourages them to do so.

Click below for more:

I’m often intrigued by the way every community tells its own stories – the mythic accounts they tell and retell that define who they are as a people. We Jews, of course, have been a story-telling people from time immemorial. We certainly do not lack for tales – which taken together, reflect a great deal about our collective sense of ourselves, what we hold sacred, how we understand our place in the world.

Every one of us has our personal favorites. There are the well-known ones, of course: the Exodus, the covenant at Sinai, the return from Babylonian exile.  But beyond the Jewish People’s “Greatest Hits,” there are a myriad of other important, central stories to choose from. They may not be as popular or recited nearly as often, but in their way, I believe they can illuminate just as much, if not more, about our own sense of our collective Jewish self.

I’ve been thinking about this lately – mainly because lately I seem to find myself returning again and again to one particular story. I’d like to share it with you today – along with a few thoughts as to why I love it so much – and why it’s my choice as the “defining Jewish story.”

It’s the story of Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai and the founding of Yavneh. Many of you may be familiar with this particular story, or at least parts of it. It comes primarily from Talmudic sources and is essentially a mix of historical events and popular legend.

Yohanan ben Zakkai was a leading Jewish sage in Jerusalem who lived during a pivotal moment in Jewish history: before, during and after the destruction of the Temple in the year 73 ACE.  Ben Zakkai was a pupil of the great Rabbi Hillel and one of the rabbinical authorities responsible for transmitting the chain of Jewish law and tradition.  He was a Pharisee, but he also came from a priestly family – and he was known for admonishing his fellow priests for putting themselves above the common people.

Ben Zakkai was one of the central Jewish leaders during the Roman siege of Jerusalem. If you’ve studied this period, then you know there was a great deal of conflict in the Jewish community over how to  respond to the Roman threat. Leading rabbis such as Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel actively advocated armed revolt against Rome. There were also various sects of zealots who were also proliferating around this time. They viewed this crisis in apocalyptic terms, seeing it as a precursor to the coming of the Messiah.

Yohanan Ben Zakkai, was Ben Gamliel’s deputy, but he pointedly refused to take part in the revolt. For his part, Ben Zakkai counseled moderation in the face of what he considered to be growing fanaticism and over-confidence. In reaction to the rebels who were gaining control of the country and destroying non-Jewish shrines, he was quoted as saying, “Do not hasten to tear down the altars of gentiles, lest you be forced to rebuild them with your own hands.” He also spoke out against rising messianism with this famous quote: “If you hold a sapling in your hand and someone says the Messiah has come, plant the sapling first, then go to welcome the Messiah.”

Ben Zakkai lived trapped in Jerusalem along with many other Jews at the time of the siege. As the Romans prepared to breach the city walls, Jewish zealots were guarding its gates to prevent anyone from leaving. And so, with the help of his pupils, Ben Zakkai was smuggled out of Jerusalem by hiding in a coffin. Shortly thereafter, as Jerusalem fell, he appeared before the Roman commander Vespasian and asked him to allow the surviving Jewish religious leadership to reconstitute itself in a small town called Yavneh.

The destruction of the Temple was a cataclysmic event in Jewish history. The center of Jewish life had now been ripped away and by all rights, this would have been the moment that the party was over: the moment in which Judaism now became just a mere footnote in a history book. But Ben Zakkai refused to accept that the end of the Temple necessarily meant the end of Judaism itself. According to a famous midrash:

Once when Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai was leaving Jerusalem, Rabbi Joshua was walking behind him and saw the Temple in ruins. Rabbi Joshua said, “Woe to us that this has been destroyed, the place where atonement was made for the sins of Israel.” Rabbi Yohanan responded, “No, my son, do you not know that we have a means of making atonement that is just like it? And what is it? It is deeds of love and mercy, as it is written: ‘For I desire kindness, and not sacrifice.’” (Hosea 6:6)

And so, under Ben Zakkai’s leadership, Judaism transformed fundamentally: from a cultic system that revolved around a central sacrificial system, to a full-fledged religion based on sacred deeds: based on worship, study, and acts of lovingkindness.

Ben Zakkai proceeded to reconstitute the Sanhedrin – the central Jewish court – in Yavneh, which now become the new spiritual center of learning for the Jewish people. The new leadership in Yavneh proceeded to proclaim new moons and holidays and they instituted numerous changes in Jewish law that had now become necessary with the destruction of the Temple. In short order, Yavneh had filled the void that had been created by this tragic cataclysm.

I will confess to you: the more I think of this story – the more I study it – the more sacred it becomes for me. I’m comfortable in saying Ben Zakkai is one of my huge Jewish heroes. I believe his story is a quintessential, perhaps the quintessential, Jewish story. And though it is certainly a historical account from a very unique place and time, I believe his story has lost none of its immediacy or urgency for us today.

I find this story to be relevant to us for three essential reasons. The first has to do with some of the things I spoke of on Rosh Hashanah: I believe Ben Zakkai’s actions during this crisis powerfully models the sacred Jewish imperative of pursuing peace at all costs. As I pointed out last week – and as Ben Zakkai demonstrates – “Seek Peace and Pursue It” is not simply a moral platitude.  It’s an eminently practical and effective form of direct action that has the power to save lives.

As I pointed out, Ben Zakkai was well known in his day as a vocal proponent for peace and was not among the rabbis who advocated rebellion. Those who did are today considered to be heroes by Jewish tradition. In fact, their legacy has actually been enshrined in the Martyrology section of the traditional Yom Kippur service. This is the section that recalls, in very vivid detail, the tragic torture and executions of the ten rabbis who led the rebellion against Rome – including Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Shimon be Gamliel.

I understand why we honor these heroic rabbinic martyrs as part of our liturgy – but I’ve often been puzzled why we don’t honor the other side of the equation: Rabbi Yochanan, and ones who chose life. After all, isn’t “choose life” one of the most basic imperatives of our tradition?  To be sure, Ben Zakkai’s choice to sneak out of Jerusalem to strike a deal with a Roman commander might seem cowardly to some – especially when compared to the story of the ten rabbis or the martyrs of Masada – another oft told story from this period. Nevertheless, it was this “cowardly” action that ensured life for the Jewish people and Jewish tradition. After all, none of us present here today are actually the heirs to the Jews of Masada – the ones who chose to take their own lives rather than surrender to the Roman army. We’re the ancestors, literally and spiritually, of the ones who chose Yavneh. At the end of the day, we’re the heirs of the ones who chose life.

If relatively few Jews know much about Rabbi Ben Zakkai, I’m sure even fewer know of Rabbi Isaac Nissenbaum. During the Holocaust, Rabbi Nissenbaum was a prominent rabbi in the Warsaw ghetto who advocated a concept he called “Kiddush Hachayim,” which literally means “sanctification of life.”  In doing this, he was providing a pointed alternative to the classical notion of Jewish martyrdom known as “Kiddush Hashem.”  Rabbi Nissenbaum rejected the idea of dying for a sacred cause. As he saw it, remaining alive at any cost was viewed a way of denying the Nazi’s intention to physically annihilate the Jewish people. Remaining alive was a sacred form of resistance in its own right. As I see it, this is one of Ben Zakkai’s most sacred legacies to us as well.

The second reason I find this story compelling: it demonstrates Judaism’s miraculous power to respond when the world around it changes. As I mentioned before, the destruction of the Temple was a true turning point – perhaps the turning point in Jewish history. It could well have become the moment in which Judaism called it a day and said, “Well, it’s been a nice run, but the party’s over. That’s it. We’ve reached the end of the road.” And there were many in the Jewish community like the Saducees and other sects who said precisely that.

But Ben Zakkai and his followers modeled a different approach: an approach that responded to crisis with creativity and innovation. We can’t offer sacrifices? That’s OK. We’ll look to prayer and good deeds to be the functional equivalent of sacrifice. And, at the end of the day, what is sacrifice, but the outer ritual: the medium, rather than the sacred message. At the end of the day, the essential message, the essence of Judaism goes much deeper than the ritual acts themselves.

No more Temple in Jerusalem? That’s OK, synagogues and houses of study will now become the communal centers of Jewish life. Judaism does not have to be geographically specific. We don’t need to live in or around Jerusalem to be a player. Jews can create community, worship God, perform sacred acts anywhere in the land of Israel – or anywhere in the world for that matter. Judaism will now become a religious tradition for a nation of wanderers – a sacred system designed to be taken on the road.

No more priests to lead the people of Israel? Not a problem. Rabbis will now constitute the new leadership model for the Jewish people: leaders who achieve their position through study and learning, not through their family line. Jewish life will flourish wherever there are Jewish leaders learned enough to rule on matters of Jewish law.

I personally believe this is the sort of spiritual creativity that has enabled the Jewish people to survive as long as they have. We’ve historically greeted change in a spirit of openness and innovation – and in this way we’ve allowed Jewish tradition to evolve and thrive over the centuries. And isn’t this what we Reconstructionists say about the inherent strength of Jewish civilization: that it is a dynamic and ever-evolving organism?

Perhaps it’s a bit self-serving to say, but I believe Rabbi Ben Zakkai one of the first great Reconstructionists. In a time of crisis and change, he respected the dynamism of Judaism enough to not only survive, but to flourish. And in many ways, I believe he helped set the stage for the future evolution of Jewish civilization.  Over the centuries Judaism has always emerged from these critical historical turning points – and has found itself better and stronger for it.

Indeed, many historians have pointed out that the most important and creative chapters in Jewish history have invariably come out of crisis. And by crisis I do not simply mean historical tragedy. As Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan has pointed out, the onset of modernity has been welcome for the Jewish community in so many ways – but it has also has presented us with huge challenges, some in their way as transformative as the ones faced by Ben Zakkai’s generation.

How will Judaism face the theological challenges of our day? How will it grow in consonance with contemporary democracy and egalitarian ideals? How will it grow to incorporate the growing diversity of the Jewish community? Can Judaism evolve out of its historically insular, tribal nature and respond to the world’s new globalized reality?  We will only really live to know the answers if we choose to respond as Ben Zakkai, by engaging these challenges with open mindedness and creativity.

Which leads me to the third and final reason why I consider Ben Zakkai’s story so compelling. In short: it affirms hope and rejects despair. This is, I believe, the quintessentially Jewish way of living in the world. For beyond the historical and political implications of this story, it contains a profoundly spiritual message: we must respond to upheaval and uncertainty with hope and faith. And in the end, can there be any better way to live our lives?

It is important to note that Jewish tradition does not simply view the destruction of the Temple as a historical moment: on a much deeper level, it is a mythic event that represents the existential ruptures in our own lives and our world. When a bride and groom break a glass at a Jewish wedding, for instance, they aren’t simply marking an event that occurred thousands of years ago. As they leave the sacred protection of their wedding canopy, they do with the acknowledgement that the world they are entering is not a perfect world. It is a world that will be filled with challenge, with struggle, and yes, even with pain. But by breaking the glass, they are demonstrating, just like Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai and the Jews of Yavneh, that they have the commitment and faith to face up to the challenges of the outside world together.

And so too with all of us, on each and every day of our lives. Sooner or later, the jagged edges of this broken world will enter our lives. The real question is not if, or even when, but how? How will be respond to the brokenness? By fighting a futile fight in the hopes that we can somehow change the inevitable?  By ignoring the pain, or burying it deep down? Or by greeting these challenges with openness and love, knowing that in the end, they are opportunities for transformation?

This is also why we all gather here year after year on Yom Kippur. Because the challenges, the changes, the transformation of the past year still weigh heavily upon us. A year yet to be revealed lies before us. What else can we do but send our prayers and hopes and dreams for another year of life, of health, of peace?

But at the same we know that despite our prayers, it will be for us a year of challenges and losses both large and small.  That’s why we say every year, when we pray the Unetaneh Tokef: “U’teshuvah, U’tefillah, U’tzedakah ma’avirin et ro’ah ha’gezeyrah.” “Repentance, prayer and tzedakah lessen the severity of the decree.”  When we sing out these words every year, I can’t help but think of Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai’s consoling words to Rabbi Joshua: “No we’ve lost the Temple, and that is a huge loss indeed. But we need not despair. Because we still have the power to bring holiness to our lives and to our world through other forms of sacred action: through love, through kindness, through acts of mercy. And these actions will always hold the key to our redemption.”

This, more than anything, is why I seem to keep returning again and again to this amazing story. Because it teaches me the most Jewish of lessons: despair is not an option. No matter how painful the challenges or how cataclysmic the losses that enter our lives. Our tradition is a tradition of hope in the future. Not a future we can predict, or necessarily even the future we would ideally wish for ourselves, but still the future that is ours’ to claim. If, like the good rabbi, we choose to respond to the all of life with open arms.

May we all be blessed with a year of life, health and peace.

Amen.

I’m extremely proud to announce that all three arms of the Reconstructionist movement have released a joint statement condemning the recent passage of gay marriage bans across the country.  Read all about it in this JTA article. It was particularly gratifying to read this acknowledgment in the piece:

The Reconstructionist movement, the smallest of American Jewish religious denominations, has long been a leader in liberalizing Jewish approaches to homosexuality. In 1984, the movement became the first to ordain openly gay rabbis, followed six years later by the Reform movement and in 2006 by the Conservative movement.

Here’s the text of the entire statement:

The Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association, the Jewish Reconstructionist Federation, and the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College deplore the passage of Proposition 8 in California and similar discriminatory initiatives recently passed in Arizona, Florida, and Arkansas. We are saddened and deeply disturbed by the denial of fundamental human rights—to marry, to adopt and care for foster children—to thousands of gay and lesbian citizens across the United States. We are particularly dismayed by the passage of initiatives that have reversed previously recognized equality for same-sex unions.

Beginning in 1993, in a series of resolutions, the Reconstructionist movement has affirmed the holiness of commitments made by same-sex couples. Religious recognition of marriages does not confer the legal and civil rights and responsibilities bestowed by the state upon married couples. We recognize the right of every religious denomination to affirm its own definition of, and limitations upon, the sacred ritual of marriage. No member of the clergy should be compelled to sanctify any union that is contrary to his or her understanding of sacred text and tradition. But neither should any gay or lesbian citizen of the United States be denied the legal rights confirmed by civil marriage.

We call upon leaders of other faith communities who share the commitment to civic equality and to the separation of church and state in the realm of marriage to speak out against bans on same-sex marriage and discrimination against GLBT people in the realm of adoption and foster care. We look forward to the day when all states will grant equal access to the rights and responsibilities of civil marriage.

I had the huge pleasure of attending the graduation ceremony of the Reconstructionist Rabbincal College in Philadelphia this past Sunday, where fifteen new rabbis and one cantor received their ordination. It was a particularly kvell-worthy moment for JRC, as two of the new rabbinic graduates came from our congregation. That me above (right) and JRC’s Cantor Howard Friedland (left) with newly-minted Rabbis Jordan Bendat-Appell (second from left) and Isaac Saposnik (second from right). 

Jordan will be returning to the Chicago area to serve Aitz Hayim Center for Jewish Living in Highland Park and Isaac is now the new Director of our movement’s national camp, Camp JRF. Mazel Tov to them both!

(You can also read about Isaac in The Forward – in a nice article about recently graduated rabbis.)

As for me, I’ve always felt it is far too early to write the epitaph for synagogues just yet. I do believe in congregations. I do believe that congregations are still places where great and important and transformative things can happen. But I believe just as strongly that that synagogues must become more relevant to a rapidly changing American Jewish community or, sad to say, they will eventually become extinct.

For the entire sermon, click below:

I have a confession to make to you all: I mentioned that we’ve decided to dedicate the High Holidays and the year in general to the theme, “Coming Home.” However, I will admit to you now, I’m not sure Judaism actually teaches us all that much about this particular concept. I’ll explain…

Let’s start with our most sacred of writings, the Torah – the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. In the beginning we read about the creation of the world and the creation of humanity and soon after we read about the birth of a new nation that God promises to bless and eventually bring home to their land. We then read extensive narratives about this nation’s forefathers and foremothers and their adventures as they wander in and about the land. We go on to read about this nation’s nascent origins in the crucible of enslavement, how they are liberated and brought to a mountain in a wilderness to enter into a covenant with their God.

We then read on, as this newly born nation wanders in the wilderness as they prepare to enter and settle the land. It is eventually decided by God that this generation cannot be the one to enter, and Moses cannot be the one to lead them there. Finally, Moses anoints Joshua to be his successor, and he brings the new generation to the threshold of the Eretz Yisrael. He prepares them for their grand and long-awaited homecoming. He dies on a mountaintop, and… then the Torah comes to a close.

Huh?!!

I’m picturing the Torah’s very first readers, you know, after the final redaction: they’re plowing into this great narrative and finally getting to that ending, can you imagine what their reaction must have been? Sort of like the reaction to the final episode of “The Sopranos:” “You mean that’s it?” “That’s the end?” “All build-up and no payoff?” When you think about it, the Torah really is the ultimate cliffhanger. It starts with the promise of coming home, it brings the nation to the threshold, then it rewinds right back to the beginning and starts all over again.

If you do want to read about the homecoming, of course, you can. That occurs in the sequel to the Torah – otherwise known as Nevi’im or Prophets. But you know what they say about sequels. It’s never, or almost never, as good as the original. The homecoming is actually quite a messy business. Nothing really goes according to plan, and things go downhill fairly quickly. Those who have read on in Nevi’im invariably understand why the Torah ends where it does – and why only these first five books are invariably considered to be our most sacred of writings.

The reason, I believe, is because Judaism has always found redemption not in the homecoming itself, but in the process of coming home. And if you think about it, this makes perfect sense: if you understand the world in terms of sacred history, homecoming represents the end of history. Once you arrive home, the story is over. (Anyone who has seen “The Wizard of Oz” knows this to be true). That is why, by the way, Jewish millenarian sects have historically never remained Jewish all that long. One of the central bonding agents for Jews throughout history is not the Messiah per se, but our yearning for the Messiah. I sometimes shudder to think what might happen if we Jews ever actually lost that yearning.

This, then, is my personal spiritual vision for this year of JRC’s homecoming. That it not represent a homecoming so much as it represents an important milestone along our journey home. Yes, for the last several years, we have been focusing on this dream of a new home for our congregational family – and in recent years we have accomplished incredible things to ensure that our dream would indeed become a reality. But I will say without reservation: as exciting as this project has been for us all, as thrilling as it has been to watch our new building gradually take shape this past year, the most fulfilling aspect of this entire journey for me has been the ways this project has transformed and strengthened JRC – the ways it has deepened our commitment to and investment in our community and its sacred values.

Don’t get me wrong: I will be as excited as anyone this January when we move back to 303 Dodge. But as we prepare for this move, it is clear to me that we must not view this event as the end of a process, but rather as a transition to a new and even more exciting chapter in the life of our congregation. I do believe that is what our President David Pinzur meant on Rosh Hashanah eve when he said that it’s not the building, but rather what we do inside it that really counts. We have indeed met great challenges to arrive at this moment. But in so many ways, I believe the road that lays ahead will be equally, if not even more challenging for JRC.

To be sure, committing to this building project, was an act of faith by our community. It was a gesture of faith in ourselves and in our future viability. But in the end, this act of faith has an even larger significance than that. We are, quite frankly, showing faith in our congregation during a time in which most congregations aren’t doing all that well.

This is, after all, an era of synagogue and congregational disaffiliation. The most recent surveys indicate that the percentage of American Jews that belong to synagogues is around 40% and I suspect the actual number is probably even lower than even that. Personally speaking, I have no trouble admitting that congregational Judaism has steadily been losing its relevance to the American Jewish community. And by the way, I was interested to read recently that I am not alone in this opinion. A new study by the STAR Foundation revealed that less than half of American rabbis surveyed are optimistic about the future of American Jewry and less than a third expect synagogue membership in the United States to increase over the next three years.

As for me, I’ve always felt it is far too early to write the epitaph for synagogues just yet. I do believe in congregations. I do believe that congregations are still places where great and important and transformative things can happen. But I believe just as strongly that that synagogues must become more relevant to a rapidly changing American Jewish community or, sad to say, they will eventually become extinct. How to achieve this is certainly no great secret: we in the Reconstructionist movement we have been advocating this for years. How can synagogues remain vital in the 21st century? Here’s just a brief checklist:

- Synagogues have to concentrate not merely on programming for their current membership, but focus outreach on an increasingly diverse American Jewish community: on interfaith families, gays and lesbians, Jews of color, singles and single parent families, blended families, young people in the post-college years.

- Congregations simply cannot be run like businesses or institutions. They must be run not only from the top down, but the also from bottom up. Synagogues certainly need visionary leadership from clergy, staff and lay leadership, but they should also seek to empower the widest possible spectrum of members to invest their time and energy in their community.

- Synagogues must be as sensitive and responsive as possible to the spiritual needs of their member and potential members. They can no longer afford to present Judaism from a narrow ideological focus or in pre-digested fashion. If they are to be spiritually relevant to their congregants, they will have to understand themselves as places where members can explore their relationship to Judaism in a safe, open and non-judgmental way.

I believe that JRC, like many Reconstructionist congregations throughout North American actually gets all this. I know that the values that I’ve just enumerated here are no big secret to us. We should bear in mind that – and be proud of the fact – that JRC has largely bucked the disaffiliation trend in American congregational life. For the past twenty-plus years, our membership has remained relatively stable at roughly 450 households. This means, essentially, that we have been able, every year, to gain as many members as we have lost, which averages out to roughly 6 to 10% annually. For a congregation that has not invested in significant outreach, this means we must be doing something right. Especially when you consider that we live in an era of increasing congregational disaffiliation.

And if we have ever had any doubt about the health and energy of our congregation, what we have accomplished during these past several years has been extraordinary: building consensus on the need for a new building and for a Capital Campaign to fund it. The creation of a broad based campaign that gives every single JRC member the opportunity to commit to and participate in this dream. The raising of $6.5 million (and counting) in commitments thus far – an astonishing level of commitment that none of us dreamed we were capable of. The decision from our membership to building a synagogue facility according to values of environmental sustainability – a commitment that has already made JRC a role model in many quarters. The Herculean efforts of our leaders in helping to design and construct our new building; a process that continues to involve a myriad of details, decisions, meetings, meetings and more meetings. The incredible mobilization of our members to help JRC make the transition to three temporary sites – and soon enough back again to Evanston – an effort that has required the expenditure of countless members’ time, energy, skills (and often, truth be told, their sanity).

I could go on and on in this way, but I think my point is clear. Only an extremely healthy and vigorous congregation could have pulled this off – and accomplish what we have accomplished over these past several years. We should have absolutely no doubt in our minds that we have taken a leap of faith together, and we have come together to ensure that our faith in one another would lead us to a better place.

So now, as I said earlier, it is the time for us to make our next leap, as it were. We will soon move into the building that we hoped would help us realize our congregational dreams. Now it is time to articulate those dreams and realize them together. Our board has just begun the discussions about a strategic planning process – one that will help is involve every member in formulating our vision and direction of our community into the next chapter of our existence. Whatever form this process will eventually take, I believe it will be vital for each and every one of us to participate in this “new construction project” if you will: the construction of our ongoing spiritual life. I have no doubt that this new chapter will enable us to grow and thrive as Jews and as a Jewish community in ways that we could never have dreamed were possible.

Since you’ve got me here now, I’d like to share with you just a few of my own dreams for JRC as we enter this exciting new phase of our homecoming:

For one thing, our new building has inspired me us to think more creatively and more broadly about our religious services. It is my hope that we can increasingly look to Shabbat morning as a time in when we can come together and create a true sense of Shabbat community. As I wrote in our newsletter several months ago, I would love to explore how we can come to view B’nai Mitzvah not only as private family rites of passage, but also opportunities for JRC at large to gather and celebrate Shabbat together as a community.

It is my hope that our JRC Religious School not only provide a meaningful Jewish education to our children, but can further connect them to their JRC community past the age of B’nai Mitzvah and through the High School years. It is my hope that our Noar Hadash Youth group will create an even deeper sense of youth community at JRC and connection our more of our children to Reconstructionist youth nationally. It is my hope that we can reach out more actively to chronically underserved members of the Jewish community, particularly to a growing number of young people post-college who are seeking to connect and contribute in a Jewish way but are not finding a great deal of meaning in congregational life.

It is also my hope that we can build upon the numerous initiatives we have created in the realm of social justice and Tikkun Olam. As we have now committed to the South Evanston neighborhood for the long haul, I would love for us to explore what that means for us as an Evanston institution – how we might be more active and present in the life and issues of our immediate community. I would also welcome the opportunity for JRC to explore our values as Jews about increasing critical domestic issues such as health care, affordable housing, and livable wages – and see if we can find our congregational voice to advocate for change on these issues.

This is, of course, just a short and sweet wish list of my own. There’s much more where these came from. I welcome the opportunity to explore these questions and many more like them in the coming years. In particular, I welcome the fact that we have now have the opportunity to explore them in a serious and substantive way. And perhaps this more than anything else is why this is such a moment of blessing for our congregational community.

As your Rabbi, I can only say it is my blessing to be part of this chapter in JRC’s history. I love this congregation so very much and I can say to you honestly and without hesitation that my family and I are looking forward to spending the coming years with this community with excitement and gratitude. In the end, truly, we are all blessed to share in this moment together. For those members of the JRC family who are in this sanctuary now, those, of blessed memory, who participate in this moment in our hearts, and all of those who we are yet to meet along the way: may it be a journey of blessing and transformation for us all.

As we are all filled with gratitude at having been sustained long enough to reach this moment, let’s say it now:

“Holy One of Blessing, Your presence fills creation, You have given us life, sustained us, and brought us all to this moment together.”

Amen.

That’s all by way of lead-in to the real subject of this post: bottled water.

The Nalgene water bottle is, of course, an essential piece of camp equipment – anyone who has ever attended camp is familiar with the constant directive to campers to keep their water bottles with them and to keep them filled with tap water in order to keep dreaded dehydration at bay. Now that I’m back home, though, I’ve decided to continue following my own directive. In fact, I’ve decided to take this opportunity to swear off bottled water for good.

Why? Because I’ve known for some time that our national obsession with this particular “beverage” has profound environmental, economic, and even public health consequences. So why shouldn’t I continue to keep the Nalgene handy?

A few trenchant bullet points on the subject:

- Last year, Americans spent $15 billion on bottled water, even though bottled water isn’t healthier or safer than tap water.

- While the EPA regulates the quality of public water supplies, the agency has no authority over bottled water. Some studies indicate that certain brands of bottled water test positive for chemical and bacterial contamination at higher levels than tap water.

- One out of six people in the world has no dependable, safe drinking water. The global economy denies drinkable water to 1 billion people, while delivering to us an array of water “varieties” from around the globe, not one of which we actually need.

- Americans went through about 50 billion plastic water bottles last year, 167 for each person. We pitch into landfills 38 billion water bottles a year – more than $1 billion worth of plastic (while the recycling rate for this particular kind of plastic is only 23%).

- We’re moving 1 billion bottles of unnecessary water around a week in ships, trains, and trucks in the United States alone. That’s a weekly convoy equivalent to 37,800 18-wheelers delivering water.

Here’s a comprehensive article about the subject from a recent issue of Fast Company. Another excellent, if older, article on the subject can be found in E Magazine. If you are interested in engaging in a little “anti-bottled water activism” check out the Think Outside the Bottle campaign. (Heartfelt thanks to Lesley Williams for originally expanding my water consciousness on this issue…)

For most of Jewish history, it was not considered important or even desirable for rabbis to study religions other than Judaism. Today, it is indispensible. Despite the time consuming demands upon RRC students to master the languages and literature of the Jewish people, there has been an institutional commitment and matching student interest in exploring interfaith education.

I proudly wear my bias when I say that my alma mater, RRC, is on the forefront of training rabbis for the brave new multifaith 21st century world - and Nancy has been one of my/our important teachers in this regard. ”Leadership” promises to be valuable resource for future rabbis, but the blog’s mission also makes it clear that it seeks to promote multifaith ideas that will be of serious interest to the religious world at large.

(And while you are persusing “Leadership,” I also recommend Nancy’s wonderful books as well her personal blog, Midlife Musar, which is devoted her interfaith work, but also includes occasional ”travel, recipes, movie reviews or other quirky indulgences.”)