After months of planning and design, this week we finally unveiled the new BRS website – www.brsonline.org We are very proud of its great features including a FAQ section for people who live here, those looking to move and those visiting.  We have videos, podcasts, a blog, photo galleries, and much more.  We have also included a member login where you can see your statements, pay your invoices, make donations and look someone up on the membership directory.  We look forward to hearing your feedback and your help in spreading the word about this great new tool to reach people and spread the BRS mission.  Look soon for the BRS app for apple and android.    A tremendous thank you is due to Kerry Purcell in our office who put in countless hours, great creativity and hard work to make this new website a reality.

As we put the finishing touches on the new website this week, we kept reminding one another that it represents the face of the Shul to someone looking into who we are.  You only get one opportunity to make a first impression and it is critically important to make a positive one if you want to get a relationship started on the right foot.

What is true for a website and a Shul, is true for how we present ourselves to others as well.  Our faces are the homepage of who we are and how we are perceived.  No matter what is happening in our hearts or our minds, we leave a strong impression on others based on the disposition carried in our faces.  Do we project sadness, despair, worry, uncertainty and doubt?  Or are we happy, positive, optimistic and joyful.

Rabbi Yisroel Salanter once said that our faces have the status of reshus ha’rabim, they are public domain and we therefore need to be sensitive to the public when we decide what mood we are going to project.  The gemara (Kesubos 111b) says that it is better to smile at someone warmly than to provide him with food and drink.  Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe writes that just as plants require sunshine to live, converting the rays of the sun into nutrients, people too convert smiles into energy and strength, and without it they wilt and perish. Smiling is a uniquely human expression.  When is the last time you saw a dog or cat smile?

Dr. Nicholas Christakis, a physician at Harvard Medical School, authored a study that concludes that happiness is contagious.  The same way when one person yawns, it affects others, when one person smiles or is happy it leads to others happiness and smiling as well.

This poem says it best:

It cost nothing, but creates much.

It enriches those who receive, without impoverishing those who give.

It happens in a flash and the memory of it lasts forever.

None are so rich they can get along without it and none so poor but are richer for its benefits.

It creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in a business, and is the countersign of friends.

It is rest to the weary, daylight to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and nature’s best antidote for trouble.

Yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it is something that is no earthly good to anybody till it is given away!

If someone is too tired to give you a smile, leave one of yours.

For, nobody needs a smile so much as those who have none to give.

Zman simchaseinu, Sukkos as a time of great joy, took on a whole new meaning this year with the announcement that Gilad Shalit will be released in the next few days.  After 5 years languishing in a Hamas dungeon in an undisclosed location with absolutely no visits or contact from family, the people of Israel or even the Red Cross, Sergeant Shalit is finally coming home.

I must admit, I am confounded and conflicted in my emotions.  On the one hand, I feel unbridled joy, jubilation and euphoria.  As Prime Minister Netanyahu has said on a number of occasions, “Gilad Shalit is the son of every Israeli family,” and I would add of every Jewish family.  Who could imagine the conditions he has faced, the treatment he has received, and the torture he has been forced to undergo by the brutal terrorists, Hamas.  The mere thought of his release and return to his family and all of Israel elicits a feeling of boundless happiness.

And yet, on the other hand, I feel unbridled sadness and grief when contemplating the price that Israel must pay to secure Shalit’s return.  The release of 1,000 terrorists who are sworn to the destruction of Israel and to the murder of innocent men, women and trouble is a source of sadness, anger, resentment and fear.  Undoubtedly, there will be a hero’s welcome and a national celebration when Shalit is reunited with his family.  But how will we all feel if God forbid just one of these vicious terrorists being released succeeds in striking Israel again, resulting in casualties?

On the one hand, Israel is showing incredible and remarkable commitment to her soldiers by displaying a willingness to go to extraordinary lengths to bring Gilad Shalit home.   Morale in the IDF will surely be lifted by the knowledge that no matter what happens to them, their country will do everything in their power to protect their soldiers and secure their freedom.

However, on the other hand, how do the soldiers who risked their lives to capture these 1,000 terrorists feel, knowing that their efforts are being reversed when the prisoners they arrested will be back on the street and back to planning heinous attacks?

On the one hand, parents and family members of every Israeli soldier must be comforted to know how much the country values each and every soldier.  On the other hand, how does the family of those murdered or injured by one of the 1,000 terrorists being released feel about this news?

Sukkos is a time of great simcha, joy, but it is specifically on this holiday that we read Kohelles which reminds us of our own vulnerability, fragility and the futility of many of our efforts.  Even under the Chuppa, a moment of incredible happiness, we break a glass to remember the threats, challenges and problems we face.

As we celebrate Sukkos anticipating the return of our beloved soldier, Gilad Shalit, it seems to me to be appropriate to feel unbridled happiness and joy as well as unbridled sadness and sorrow at the same time, after all that seems to always be the Jewish way.

We are living in a time and culture that promote happiness, satisfaction and indulgence.  Indeed, we are regularly inundated with messages and marketing such as “obey your thirst,” and “just do it.”  In that context it is particularly difficult and onerous to observe a fast and to resist the temptation for food and water for a full 25 consecutive hours.  And yet, the Torah associates Yom Kippur, the Holiest day of the year, a time in which we can achieve extraordinary heights in our spiritual ambitions, with self-restraint and self-control.  True greatness is not the ability to obey your thirst, it is the capacity to resist your thirst and pursue a greater goal.

Judaism rejects embracing asceticism as a path to holiness.  Yet, we collectively engage in abstinence from all types of physical pleasure for a full day to prove to ourselves and to God that we can.   There is one temptation, one urge and desire that is not included in the abstinence of Yom Kippur, but which I would humbly submit we accept upon ourselves nevertheless.  For some, this form of self-denial may be even more difficult than fasting from food and drink.  I am referring to speech and the powerful and potent force it represents in this world.

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with food.  Indeed, we need it to nourish ourselves and to sustain our existence.  We are permitted and encouraged to indulge in tasty foods the other days of the year.  However, on yom kippur, we achieve angelic status by elevating ourselves above the everyday mundane needs, wants and desires.

Similarly, not only is speech not inherently bad, it is good and serves as the bridge to allow us to communicate with others and Hashem.  We should speak freely (but appropriately) throughout the year, but I would like to suggest that for Yom Kippur we accept upon ourselves to try to go a full day without speaking.   In fact, some of our most pious men and women throughout Jewish history observed a ta’anis dibbur, a fast from speech, on yom kippur.

Not speaking to others for 25 hours sounds like an impossible goal and unachievable objective.  Yet, doing so, I believe, would accomplish a number of goals.  Firstly, we would eliminate the temptation to gossip, slander, or speak inappropriately on the holiest day of the year which most certainly would be a great merit.  Secondly, by going into the day knowing that we will absolutely not talk for this period of time, we would be able to focus on our davening without feeling pressured to entertain conversation with the person sitting next to us.  Lastly and most importantly, not talking to others would force us to spend time talking to ourselves, something we rarely do, but which is a necessary component of self-growth and development.

For many, accepting a ta’anis dibbur, a fast of speech for a full day is impossible.  I understand that those with little children or elderly parents, etc. can’t simply check out for a full day.  However, I would suggest that every single one of us is capable of observing a ta’anis dibbur while in Shul.  Let’s collectively accept upon ourselves for 25 hours not to say a single word while in Shul, even during the parts of davening in which it is permitted to talk.

Throughout the year, when people approach me on the bima during davening, I struggle with my commitment not to talk on the one hand and the importance of not being rude on the other.   Of course if there is an emergency or pressing issue, feel free to interrupt me or any of the Rabbis who can be of assistance.  However, if you are just coming to say good Shabbos, please accept my apologies if I simply shake your hand and give you a big smile without engaging in a conversation.

Let’s all enter a social contract and commit to use the Sanctuary for davening exclusively and reserve our schmoozing for the lobby.  I am confident that if we do, our personal and communal yom kippur experience will be greatly enhanced as a result.

Instead, in this particular email, the author concludes the sentence by saying, “it is natural for each of us to take stock of our accomplishments.” The message continued by listing a series of achievements and milestones the organization celebrated this past year. At first, I reacted cynically and thought to myself, of course, it is much more convenient to focus on success rather than on failure, but what a distortion of the essence of this time of year.

However, after thinking about it for a moment it occurred to me, that maybe they are on to something. Of course Elul, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are a time to consider our shortcomings and how we can grow, but should that necessarily translate into guilt, negativity and a feeling of failure. Perhaps we would do better to identify our successes, our achievements and with pride, reflect on what went right this past year, so that it can be repeated and expanded to other areas of our lives.

Our main task on Rosh Hashana is to be mamlich Hashem, to coronate God as King. In the process, we should recognize how fortunate and blessed we are, not only to be His loyal servants, but as His children to be princes and princesses, members of the royal family. Indeed, we preface Avinu before Malkeinu in our prayers. We should be focused on lifting ourselves up instead of knocking ourselves down.

Spend time these two days thinking about what went wrong, why did it go wrong and how can we prevent it from going wrong again. But don’t forget to take as much time to focus on what went right and feel pride in the accomplishments and achievements of the past year. I believe giving ourselves positive reinforcement will propel us forward to have an evening greater year ahead.

Shanah Tova,

When it comes to a call with the President of the United States of America, the leader of the free world, our voices are muted, and our input is silenced. The call was a monologue, not a dialogue. It is remarkable to consider that in contrast, when we conference with the Almighty, the King of Kings, the Creator of the World, our voices ring loudly, our input is welcomed and our opportunity to speak freely and openly is invited. We are blessed to have God’s ear, whenever and wherever we choose. We can close our eyes, shut out the world and communicate with our Creator whenever we like.

In less than a week from now, we will be sitting in Shul in marathon davening sessions. Could you imagine signing up to participate in the NY City or Boston Marathons and not training whatsoever? How well would you do if you kept your normal eating pattern and sedentary lifestyle and then just showed up on the starting line to begin the race? Not only would you not win, you would likely not make it past the first few miles. People who participate in marathons train for months, increase their stamina, their concentration, learn how to best pace themselves and adjust their diet to achieve maximum performance.

We are now a few days away from our marathon, two Rosh Hashana days of davening, followed by the intensity of the ten days of repentance and culminating in Yom Kippur. Have we trained adequately? Are we ready to not only qualify or complete the marathon, but to achieve our very best? Are we in maximum performance shape?

We simply cannot expect to just show up on Rosh Hashana and have a meaningful, purposeful, transformation experience. While we will likely blame the davening, the décor, the Rabbi or the location of our seat for why we were not moved or inspired, the truth is that the success of this time of the year is directly proportional to the effort and investment we make in it.

It is not too late to get ready. In the next few days set aside time to meditate and reflect on areas we can improve, mistakes we have made and how they can be avoided, things for which we should be appreciative and goals for the coming year. Give extra time, attention and effort to davening three times a day, preferably with a minyan and hone your ability to connect. Talk to Hashem like you are having coffee with your best friend who wants to hear everything in your life, because He is your best friend and He does want to hear everything.

If we spend time preparing and getting ready, I am confident we will have the best Yamim No’raim ever.

Shabbat Shalom

Parents have let out a collective sigh of relief.  The new academic year has started and, thank God, the kids are back in school.  It is amazing that, at the end of the school year, parents are so grateful to have a reprieve from supervising homework, making lunches and driving carpools.  By the end of the summer, however, they are all too happy to resume those duties and have their kids back in a structured, productive and learning environment.

While we mostly think about the end of summer as a time that kids go back to school, Judaism teaches that it is specifically this period of the year that all of us, adults, kids, men and women are encouraged to return to learning, studying and personal growth.  Learning is a lifelong endeavor and its mission is never complete.  

Over the past few weeks, I attended two siyumim, the celebrations over completion of a major body of learning, that deeply inspired me.  During the nine days, our member, Jeff Silkin made a siyum on an entire mesechta  (tractate) of gemara.  Remarkably, when Jeff and his family first moved to the circle he would classify himself as a beginner with little background or learning skills.  Yet, by committing to study one night a week with his chavrusa (R. Mayer Englander), something he considers totally ordinary, he was able to achieve an extraordinary feat.  

Last Shabbos at Seudah Shlishiet, another of our members, Dan Waldman, made a siyum on Shas Mishnayos, having completed every single mishna in the six orders.  He told the story of how, as a survivor, he tried to learn about his murdered ancestors so he could visit their graves.  When he recognized that, tragically, he could not locate much information, he decided he would study the entire mishna and dedicate it to them.   Through this process of study that took several years, he became their monument.  Ask Dan how he completed this rigorous project and his answer is simple – one mishna at a time.

Like our many children and like Jeff and Dan, this Elul, let’s all go back to school.  Challenge yourself to complete an area of study, to read a challenging book, to attend an inspiring lecture or to engage a regular study partner.  Participate in the Beis Midrash program nightly or Shabbos afternoon in the Senders Library.  If you need a chavrusa, feel free to contact me any time.  

May we all use Labor Day to return to school for a labor of love – Torah study, and may we attend each other’s siyumim and celebrations for many years to come.

There are multiple layers to these tragedies and their impact on our people. Of course there is the loss of precious life, the potential that can now never be realized, and the impact of these individuals that will no longer be felt. There is the tragedy of the murderers and how they have forfeited their Godly spirit by having engaged in acts that are the epitome of evil.

But it occurs to me there is yet another tragedy and loss – there is the loss of our innocence, replaced by feelings of fear and dread. Leiby’s murder has inspired parents of young children around the globe to wonder should we let our children walk around alone? Beginning at what age? For what distance? At what time of day? Rabbi Abuchatzeira’s murder has already motivated Rabbis to ask questions such as “can I meet with people one on one anymore? Am I safe even around congregants and students whom I thought I knew well?”

Some may argue that asking all of these questions is a good thing and will yield greater safety in the long run. Others believe that harping on these questions will produce a culture of neuroticism, paranoia and unnecessary worry and fear. After all, these were isolated incidents carried out by deranged, psychotic individuals and in no way reflect a real danger. I personally don’t know which attitude is correct, but I do know that prior to a few weeks ago we were not struggling with these questions and that too is a great tragedy in my opinion.

As we rapidly approach Tisha B’av and please God conclude this inauspicious period of mourning and heartache, let us look forward to the time that the Navi (Prophet) predicts in which men and women will sit in the streets of Jerusalem and watch as children play freely in perfect safety with unbridled joy and happiness.

Shabbat Sholom

Each visit to Israel increases my love and connection to this remarkable country, land and people. When in Israel, it is impossible not to feel that Jewish destiny is unfolding here and that those in the diaspora, while great sources of support, are essentially spectators.

To be a serious Jew one must be serious about a commitment to Israel. The Torah and our tradition are replete with statements that place Israel and Yerushalayim as central in our lives. When I return, I look forward through sermons and classes to articulating some of the many reasons that Israel is such a blessing and gift in our lives, but for now, allow me to share just one.

I was walking today in the vicinity of the tragic funeral of R. Elazar Avuchatzera who was brutally murdered just last night. The streets were congested, the traffic was heavy and the police where doing their best to keep things under control. One driver was particularly frustrated that the officer had closed off a certain street and he left his car, walked up to the policeman and was not shy in voicing his objection.

Observing this aggressive exchange, my first thought was that in America, a civilian would never speak so freely to a member of law enforcement. And then I realized that while his tone was inexcusable and wrong, there was something paradoxically beautiful about it. You see, in America, a policeman is a total stranger, unfamiliar, distant and imposing. In Israel, absolutely everyone, policeman or civilian, is a member of the family, a brother or a sister with whom there is an implicit comfort level. Essentially, this driver was saying, ‘achi,’ my brother, why are you stopping traffic here, it’s inconvenient to me.

Ten years ago, my sister and her family made aliyah to Modiin. Just this week, my brother and his family arrived on a nefesh b’nefesh flight to their new home in Alon Shvut. That leaves me as the only child in my family not living in Israel, a feeling that is awkward, upsetting and in some ways lonely. I am deeply grateful to the BRS community for the commitment you have shown me for the next ten years, and rest assured you have my family’s commitment back for that long and beyond. But wouldn’t it be great, if we could realize our mutual commitments to one another by bringing our entire BRS family on aliyah.

My friends, as I often say, while there are many legitimate reasons not to move to Israel right now, there are no legitimate reasons not to struggle with how and when we can make aliyah a reality. May our collective migration to Israel be hastened and expedited by the arrival of Moshiach, speedily in our days.