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Sermon
by RABBI
michael berk
July 20, 2007
First sermon at cbi
Four hundred congregants filled the Glickman-Galinson
Sanctuary to hear Rabbi Michael Berk deliver his inaugural Shabbat sermon
on Friday July 20. The adult choir and Chai Band played in the highly musical
Shabbat service. Afterward, Rabbi Berk and his wife, Rabbi Aliza Berk greeted
congregants in the David & Dorothea
Garfield Social Hall for a special Oneg.
Shabbat Shalom! I am so delighted that I am able to be here as your new
senior rabbi. I am honored and humbled to be on this magnificent pulpit
as I begin my tenure serving alongside Cantor Bernstein and Rabbi Ettman.
The rabbis in the Talmud say, Kashei lihiyote Yehudi: it is hard to be a Jew. To that I would add: kashei lihiyote rav: It is hard to be a rabbi. Truly, those who serve this people Israel have awesome responsibilities. Most of us assume these responsibilities with eyes somewhat open, certainly, willingly, and of our own free will. Why? The answer is usually simple. Rabbis and cantors are often men and women who could have succeeded in any number of professions. Now I know we clergy have our failings. I know we are human, and especially today, we know how those in respected offices often have dire shortcomings. But having admitted that, let me answer the question why some men and women, talented and promising, choose the rabbinate.
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| Rabbi Michael Berk greeted many enthusiastic congregants
in the oneg following Shabbat services. |
I actually think the rabbinate or cantorate chooses us. I know that the word "calling" is considered a Christian term. But I don’t know a better word in English
to describe the urge to serve this people; the feeling inside that nothing, nothing,
will give the satisfaction, the pleasure, the joy, the spiritual rewards, of
spending one’s life preserving, promoting, protecting, enhancing, the life of
the Jewish people.
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| Harry Tennenbaum and Larry Krause ushered for the
Men's Club. |
You know what gives us clergy satisfaction? One day a number of years ago, a young man that grew up with me as his rabbi returned to the synagogue from college. He dropped by to say hello to me. When I saw him I got tears in my eyes. It was a highlight of my career: a young Jew whose Jewish home, the synagogue, meant so much to him that he stopped by during a college vacation to say hello to the rabbi.
We read in the Mishna some words that suggest what this night is all about: "Asei lecha rav" – which can be translated, "Get yourself a rabbi." The truth is, you don't get yourself a rabbi just by conducting a search, drawing up a contract and having him sign on the dotted line. You only get a rabbi over time. Slowly, patiently you make him your rabbi; slowly, patiently, you begin to understand what this precious and unique relationship is all about.
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| Cantor Sheldon Merel and Marcy Merel |
Consider three concrete symbols of the rabbi's role. First, the homely challah. The rabbi, like a lump of dough, is poked and stroked and prodded from all directions; kneaded (with and without the "k") by many hands, all of which want something different. Like any good challah, the rabbi must rise to all occasions – must be light and fluffy or dense and chewy as the situation demands. The rabbi is there to lend a yiddishe tam – a Jewish flavor – to every event; rabbis are there to feed and nourish and sustain all the hungry souls around them. And God forbid that anyone should catch the rabbi "loafing."
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| Cynthia and Sydney Wexler |
Endlessly giving, endlessly serving – the rabbi as a loaf of challah is in some ways an attractive image. But there's also an obvious danger – of being eaten up entirely: pulled apart by the demands of congregational life, and consumed with anger – or worse, perhaps, eaten away little by little, until all that's left of the rabbi is a small mound of crumbs: crummy sermons, crummy teaching, crummy pastoral counseling and a crummy home life.
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| Rabbis Berk and Ettman greet Ernest Schoen, who will celebrate his 100th birthday at Erev Shabbat services on August 3 |
Consider image number two of the rabbi's role: this one over here by the Ark. It's the ner tamid, the eternal light. The rabbi must be a source of enlightenment; a reservoir of eternal truths, radiating always the steady, unwavering light of faith. The rabbi must burn with prophetic fire, speaking out with courage on the critical issues of our time; seeking integrity, not merely popularity; holding fast to the flame of truth even in the midst of controversy; inspiring and sometimes even castigating the congregation to live up to our Jewish ethical ideals. As the focal point of all eyes on the bima, the rabbi must bring light and warmth to the sanctuary, infusing worship with a sense of spirituality, lifting up the souls of the congregation and helping them connect with the holy.
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| Rabbi Glenn Ettman, Rabbi Aliza Berk and Lee Levy. |
This image, too, has a certain beauty to it – and, of course, a danger as well. The rabbi as eternal light, after all, is up high, far away from the congregation, closer to the Torah, closer to God, than you are. Rabbis who see themselves, and are seen, as the ner tamid, run the risk of becoming arrogant and remote, self-important and self-righteous.
Let me offer, then, the rabbinic image I prefer: the yad, the wooden or silver pointer that Jews use to read the Torah. Yad is the Hebrew word for "hand," and so this instrument is the extension of the human hand. Some "yads" are humble and some are highly polished, but all point, with straightness and integrity, back to Torah, the source of our wisdom. And so the rabbi's task is to direct our attention to ultimate concerns, to keep us focused, in the swirl of congregational business, on why we do what we do.
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| Russ Gold and Jerry Goldberg |
The yad is not the Torah; the yad is a pointer, a gateway to Torah. And so a rabbi is not the source of all truth but one who helps you find your place in the tradition; who guides you on your Jewish journey; who brings you to the sacred text and helps you discover your own voice. Above all, the yad is a symbol of partnership and collaboration. Without someone to read the Torah, the yad dangles uselessly over there in the Ark. And without congregants who dream and plan and work to make the dreams come true, a rabbi's existence is pointless.
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"Aseh lecha rav – get yourself a rabbi." It only happens over time. Slowly, patiently, you make him your rabbi. The great Rabbi Leo Baeck put it best, speaking to a rabbinic graduating class 70 years ago: "The message is not the sermon of a preacher, but the person…. The rabbi must not deliver a sermon. The rabbi must deliver himself."
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| Miriam Norten, Gordon Haworth and Amanda Haworth |
Tonight we celebrate the covenantal partnership we have formed, and I pledge to you that I will give you the best I have to offer. I will believe in you and do my utmost to honor the covenant with you as long as it endures.
At this historic moment, let me mention a word of Torah. Those on the search committee may recall that when I was invited to teach Torah to them, I chose the portion from the week just prior to my interview. It was the portion Lech Lecha – "Go forth" – spoken when God tells Abraham to leave his home and all that is familiar to him, words that are considered to be the first of ten tests God will throw at Abraham. The hard truth is, and well you all know: life is full of tests. The question to us is the same question that we wonder about Abraham at the beginning of his journey: how will we handle the tests, how will we respond to the curves life throws our way.
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| Rabbi Aliza Berk (left) greeted Diana Hahn and Judith
Hahn in the oneg following Shabbat services. |
We get a peek at how Abraham responds to such challenges after another test God devised, when the four kings go to war against Abraham. Abraham is shook up. And what does God tell him? Don’t be afraid; I am your shield. Abraham would find his strength in his faith.
And when Abraham has doubts later in life, God says to him: Habeit hashamayma – Go; gaze toward the heaven. Look forward; look into your heart. You will find the strength you need. And you will be able to reconnect to your dreams and your values.
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| Emily Jennewein, Sandy Feldman and President Amy Corton |
Tonight I say to all of us: habeit hashamayma – let us look to the heavens; let our gaze be to the future. Let’s find our strength in our love of Judaism and our dream to make this House of Israel a place which helps everyone find their dreams and reconnect to the values of this people Israel.
Rabbi Michael Berk
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| Left: Lee, Terry and Marty Klitzner. Right: Liz Levine and Rabbi Glenn Ettman. |
Photos by Emily Jennewein
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