Young or old, male or female, rich or poor, involved or not, Jewish or not, the first time I meet someone is in study – study of Judaism, study of each other and study of ourselves.
Sometimes, our learning is focused on explicitly Jewish materials – Torah, midrash, liturgy, history or philosophy. Other times, our learning is focused on less obvious, but still Jewish content – the values of our society, the smooth and rocky path of growing up, or the caring for elderly family members. Yet still, there are times when our learning does not seem connected to Judaism at all – popular culture, scientific breakthroughs, delicious recipes, or the weather. Sometimes I prefer to study with someone in a classroom or a sanctuary. Other times we might study in a coffee shop or a living room.
When I meet a new person, we could be studying any number of things, but the important part is that we are studying them together. In this way, rabbi and congregant become chevruta, sacred study-buddies, who each bring our experiences and expertise to study, life, and the human experience.
So, what subjects does this rabbi love to study with my chevruta, you ask?
I love to study simcha (joy).
Many communities describe themselves as “warm and welcoming,” but in my experience, they are so much more than that. Synagogues are places that make us smile. They are places that make us laugh. They are places that bring people from many different walks-of-life together to celebrate the ordinary and extraordinary events of our lives, the chol (mundane) and the kodesh (holy). This might mean a b’nai mitzvah student walking into my study and spending the next hour talking while completing one of the many puzzles on the shelf. Perhaps it happens while an empty-nester and I might enjoy a cup of coffee in the comfortable library armchairs. Studying simcha could mean forming connections between the community and new voices through interfaith dialogue or community meals where friends and family join the “regulars,” or reorienting ourselves to include those in the community who feel forgotten in the margins. In all these examples, and the multitudes left unlisted, it is often far too easy to forget the s’machot (joys) of our lives, but a synagogue that is curious and serious about simcha serves as the safe-haven we sometimes do not know we need and lifts the spirits of its members higher than anyone could have imagined.
I love to study kavanah (intention).
I believe that there is a very fine line between a rut and a groove, between absent-minded habit and meaningful ritual. It is only through constant kavanah that we ensure that we are on the right side of that line. Kavanah happens when we are perpetually aware of our community’s mission and vision, ensuring that every meeting, event, service, and lesson accomplishes that goal. Kavanah happens when the individuals in our community make the active choice to show up, to participate, and to contribute their voice to the conversation. Kavanah happens when those who show up for an event, also show up for each other, supporting others through the inevitable darker days. Kavanah happens when our community contributes to our local, regional, national and global communities – fulfilling the command: tzedek, tzedek, tirdof (Justice, justice, you will pursue). Communities of kavanah become communities focused on bringing out our foundational values into the world, through thought as well as deed. Communities focused on kavanah become “kava-nental” communities, using kavanah as a tool to contribute to the inherent brit (sacred covenant) we have with each other, the world, and with God.
I love to study ma’asei b’reisheet (creative acts).
I believe that, at its core, a synagogue exists to help its community live meaningful lives, a meaning that happens on the personal level as well as on the communal level. For the community, ma’asei b’reisheet happens when we constantly ask ourselves “why”: why are we here; why do we do what we do; why are we afraid; why are we excited. Answering these questions leads us to a community created with kavanah and purpose – validating our existence in more than “just because” or “that’s how it’s always been done.” Sometimes, ma’asei b’resheet means relying on pre-established minhagim (customs, practices), and taking comfort in the stability of our traditions. Sometimes, ma’asei b’resheet means creating new minhagim that are dynamic and meet the needs of the moment. Ma’asei b’resheet are also where we invite the modern world into our sanctuaries, classrooms and administrative processes – artfully using technology, business models, and learning techniques that would not have been available even five years ago.
Studying s’machot, kavanot, and ma’asei b’resheet is not relegated to only the synagogue. I’ve worked with campers at Jewish science camp who get so happy around liquid nitrogen ice cream that they cannot sit still. I’ve sat with artists in rural Pennsylvania who are so dedicated to their crafts that the entire world becomes their studio. I’ve volunteered with ordinary students who become incredible advocates when those with no voice are in need. Simcha, kavanah, and ma’asei b’resheet are the core subjects that guide our lives break down the borders between the Jewish world and the world at large. I believe that when the Jewish world and the larger world connect, we are maintaining the relevance of Judaism in the world today. I am constantly reminded that the opportunities to use the modern, artistic, technological, and mindfulness in Judaism, does not change who we are or what we love. In fact, it all helps us to feel even more Jewish.
In this way, I believe that the things chevruta study together should matter for our lives inside and outside of the synagogue. I believe in a Judaism that plays a role in every component of a person’s life and a Judaism that truly matters to those who are a part of its story. I have seen time and time again that the things we learn about explicitly Jewish materials can, and should, inform the way we live our lives. We live out these values in decisions big and small: from sending children to (Jewish) camp, to how we direct our tzedakah, from the things that we make time for in our increasingly busy lives, to the issues that turn our empathy into action.