In the pandemic years, we witnessed significant changes in how Jews gather to pray. It has been most evident in how we utilize television and live streaming to pray from the comfort of our homes. One notable example is the Central Synagogue’s services, featuring the esteemed Rabbi Angela Buchdahl, a top-rated Jewish “program.” The impact of these professional and meaningful offerings on Jewish prayer is profound, both as a blessing and a challenge.

Technology influences our connections within our communities. The pandemic forced many of us into confinement at home and seeking solace, we turned to electronic media.

Synagogues have sought to make services accessible long before the pandemic. Adas Israel, in Washington, DC, pioneered this approach, broadcasting services on the radio. Such broadcasts aimed to accommodate those who were ill or elderly and couldn’t attend in person.

The Romemu community in New York championed Zoom and live-streamed services before Covid. Their approach respected virtual participants, offering a membership category for internet participants. Romemu elevated the technological approach to prayer, making the experience more personal and highly professional.

Zoom provided life cycle event connections for a Shiva minyan or a bar/bat mitzvah service. It also allowed smaller communities to sustain daily minyans. Zoom services welcomed individuals who couldn’t previously participate in communal prayer. There are compelling reasons to support a Zoom minyan.

Yet, fulfillment of your prayer obligations was not through electronic media. Ten people had to attend to complete a prayer service minyan. Then Covid happened. Progressive segments of the Jewish community accepted remote participation. Progressive Judaism already tends to emphasize the individual’s needs. Accordingly, virtual presence was equivalent to in-person participation.

The idea of remote participation expands upon Jewish law. The Talmud teaches that synagogues must have windows to connect worshippers with the outside world and allow those outside to join the service. Similarly, Mishnah Rosh Hashanah teaches us that hearing the shofar outside a synagogue fulfills the obligation. This inclusivity aligns with the spirit of live stream services.

A person standing near windows or doors to the prayer space, with visible eye contact, could be counted as part of the minyan. Another source even suggests that ten people standing in a field, able to see and hear one another, constitute a minyan. If someone standing outside a window can be counted, why not include those in a Zoom room participating in a service?

Should online services relieve us of the obligation to gather physically as a community? Or we must ask ourselves: do the benefits of a Zoom minyan outweigh the tradition of gathering in person?

The Conservative Movement’s Committee on Law and Standards (CLS) has questioned the continued use of the Zoom minyan. They suggest it should be limited to emergencies, such as a pandemic or natural disaster.

Psychologically speaking, they might be right. Words can offer comfort, and voices can provide support, but they cannot replace the touch of a hand, a hug, or physical presence. Those who cannot be touched, whose hands we cannot shake, whose smile we cannot see, remain alone.

The pandemic taught us that isolation can cause harmful loneliness. Technology rescued us from seclusion but did not fully replace the warmth of human connection.

The best forum for fostering connection is in the spiritual setting. You may sit in a theater with a crowd of people, but you aren’t forming a community. You can attend a sporting event, but a gathering of fans won’t satisfy your need for meaningful relationships. As social as pickleball and book clubs may be, I’m not sure such leisure activities create significant personal connections.

Jewish tradition understands the profound spiritual significance of coming together face to face, heart to heart. When gathering for a life cycle ritual or a holiday service, we have the opportunity for something profound to happen. We are meant to be present, share our joys and sorrows, and support one another on life’s journey.

Don’t mistake the convenience of online participation for spiritual fulfillment. The crisis of loneliness still looms over our society.

Through simple yet profound acts of connection, we can heal the wounds of isolation that plague our world. If not for yourself, your sense of loneliness your physical participation may be a blessing to someone else who needs more personal relationships.

We must reaffirm our commitment to one another and the idea that our faith communities are not just places of worship but sanctuaries of love and fellowship. We must be beacons of light in a world that sometimes feels dark and disconnected.

Despite the technological allure leading to isolation,  God’s presence is most powerful when we come together as a community. The spirit of unity and togetherness is a testament to our shared humanity, and it is through these connections that we find God’s love. In an age of screens and gadgets, we must remember that God and not the internet is the connection between people.

Let’s prioritize gathering in person, not just for religious purposes, but for the sake of ourselves and the well-being of our neighbors. It is in these connections that we find strength, hope, and the ability to overcome the crisis of loneliness that plagues our society.

While technology can connect us across distances, it cannot replace the power of physical presence and the warmth of human touch. We must balance embracing modern tools and upholding the traditions and values that have sustained us for generations.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

The key concept of Rosh Hashanah may be the willingness to sacrifice. What do you have that you would sacrifice? What are you willing to sacrifice? Money, Time, Individualism? For whom are you ready to sacrifice? For your family, your community, the Jewish people?

Abraham is the focus of the Torah reading for Rosh Hashanah. Abraham left Babylonia. He sacrificed his home and his independence to an unknown God and an unseen promised land. Then God tested Abraham him.  Was Abraham willing to sacrifice his son Isaac? God gave the command. Abraham obeyed. Abraham took his only child to Mt. Moriah with wood and firestarter. Some sages taught that Abraham demonstrated absolute faith in his willingness to sacrifice his son.

While studying at the Hartman Institute in Jerusalem this summer, Micah Goodman offered some thoughts on the concept of sacrifice.  He began with a census. In Exodus 30:11 in the Torah, a census was taken and a half shekel payment was paid as redemption for each person counted. Without the half shekel, there would be a plague.

Centuries later, King David ordered a census with disastrous results. As King, David laid the foundations of a nation. He had waged wars and united the tribes. David made Israel a nation just like the other nations, militaristic and subduing their own people.

To succeed in conquest, a King needed to count the available soldiers. The King needed to count the farms and farmers to know how much grain and animals the King could take.  To build a monarchy, a King counted the people, not as unique and precious, but as sources of power and wealth.

In II Samuel 24:1, the story of King David takes a turn. “The anger of the LORD again flared up against Israel; and He incited David against them, saying, “Go and number Israel and Judah.” David knows the danger of taking a census. Yet, David follows God’s command and orders a census to be conducted.

After the census, the prophet Gad approaches. Three punishments are proposed, a three-month rout by Israel’s enemies, a seven-year famine, or a plague. Each of these will hurt multitudes of people. Ultimately, God sent a plague that killed 70,000.

Judaism rejects the world where census taking reduces people to mere numbers. The role of Judaism is to tell the world that each person is precious. Each is created in the image of God, each as valuable as a world unto herself. The nations of the ancient world subjugated people and dehumanized them with submission, conscription, and slavery. Judaism rejects power structures that diminish humanity.

As Rabbi Jonathan Saks wrote: “The numbering of a people is the most potent symbol of mankind-in-the-mass, of a society in which the individual is not valued in and for him- or herself but as part of a totality whose power lies in numbers.”  Israel should be a nation of priests not a list of numbers. God offers love to people whose strength has nothing to do with numbers; God cares for people, not empires.

After the plague began, an angel of destruction approached Jerusalem.  David cried out to God. “I alone am guilty, I alone have done wrong; but these poor sheep, what have they done? Let Your hand fall upon me!” David offered himself as the sacrifice needed to stop the plague. David was willing to sacrifice himself for his people.

God heard David’s offer and stopped the plague. David was told to offer sacrifice to God on the threshing floor of a Jebusite’s farm. The sages say that the threshing floor became the location of the Temple, built by David’s son Solomon. This story again links back to where we started, with Abraham and Isaac at Mount Moriah. Mount Moriah too is the location of Jerusalem.

Abraham was asked to sacrifice his son and promptly did so. He only stops when the angel stays Abraham’s hand.

David took a census despite the risk. He failed this test. David is unprepared for the sacrifice to come. Of his people, his flock, 70,000 died.

Abraham is steadfast in his obedience. David is vacillating between his duty to God and his control of the nation.

Then, David offered himself as a sacrifice to stop the plague. Perhaps he realized that the monarchy had the potential to replace Judaism with the worship of power. Maybe he repented his role in creating an unholy kingdom. His atonement was to lay the foundation for the Temple to be built in Jerusalem.

Judaism boils down to three locations: Eden, Sinai, and Jerusalem.  Eden is the creation of the world. Sinai is the revelation of God’s word. Jerusalem is the promised land’s capital. And then we hope for a messianic time, which is the return to Eden. The loop is closed.

The “Jerusalem” has its foundation in the stories of Abraham and Isaac and David and the census.  The ideal of Jerusalem is the spine that holds Judaism together. Jerusalem is not just a city. It is a religious archetype. Jerusalem represents the land promised to Abraham by God for the treasured people saved from slavery by God. Torah commanded we create a place for God, a Bet HaMikdash, a Temple, ultimately built in Jerusalem. There was established a place of sacrifice where Abraham would have sacrificed Isaac.  Where King David sacrificed to stop a plague. Sacrifice in Jerusalem was the operating system of Judaism. Jerusalem represents the willingness to sacrifice for God.

Does sacrifice continue to be an essential part of the Jewish experience? Judaism demands sacrifices, sacrifices of your time, your earnings, and your independence. We sacrifice time to prayer and to rituals. We sacrifice our money, to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, care for the widow, and care for the orphan.  We sacrifice our independence as we are not complete as people without our attachment to the Jewish community. We are intertwined, all Israel responsible for one another.

Micah Goodman, whose lecture initiated this discussion, fears that sacrifice is no longer at the core of Jewish identity. What becomes of Judaism when we no longer sacrifice time to prayer and rituals? What becomes of people when we fail to care about each other’s needs? What becomes of Judaism, without a willingness to sacrifice some of our independence in exchange for Jewish connection and identification?

The system of Jewish worship was built on sacrifices. The offering of animals, incense, or foodstuffs demonstrated devotion in the ancient world. With the destruction of the Temple in the Roman era, sacrifice was replaced with a complex system of Tefilah, Teshuvah, and Tzedakah – prayer, repentance, and charity.  Prayer, repentance, and charity all require personal sacrifice.

Meanwhile, modernity, wealth accumulation, and individualism are blessings that improve our lives and curses in Judaism’s view of the ideal world.

Modernity steals time from spiritual development to economic growth. The computer age, the internet age, the information age, and the virtual reality age provide compelling alternatives to spiritual life and ritual observances. Most people are not willing to sacrifice television for a day of rest.

Wealth is idolized, and poverty is increasing. Rich nations take from poor countries. Wealth is concentrated in relatively few people. Our government is a plutocracy, rewarding special interests with money and power. Meanwhile, we are unable to sacrifice a little of our wealth to end poverty or cure disease. Judaism requires tithing and tzedakah to meet everyone’s needs. We can afford to end poverty in the United States by providing a universal basic income. The estimated cost to end poverty is $175 Billion.  The military costs about $800 Billion. We choose to have poverty in the United States because we are unwilling to sacrifice our advantages for the sake of the many who are hungry today.

Individualism is a thinly veiled egotism.  We sanctify individual rights as God-given and sacred. Yet, the elevation of individual rights is often recast as individuals choosing themselves over the collective.  That individualism is born of nihilism and narcissism. Jews are selecting the “me” over the “we” are preferring the “I” to the “us.” We won’t sacrifice any of our independence for our religion or people’s sake.

My teacher, Micah Goodman, was chiefly concerned about Israel. Modern Israel was founded on a willingness to sacrifice life, wealth, and independence for a safe homeland for the Jewish people. That was Zionism! Devotion to Zion is eroding in Israel.  Groups of Israelis are forcing the government to serve their needs without regard for the nation or the Jewish people. For example, the ultra-Orthodox in Israel are insulated from army service while receiving inordinate Government subsidies for their communities.  Meanwhile, reservists, alarmed at the Government’s recent actions, will cease to serve the nation. The willingness to sacrifice for Israel is fading fast.

On Yom Kippur, we offer a martyrology service about rabbis who died for Judaism.  The martyred sages call to us through the ages. They are asking, what would you sacrifice for Judaism, for the sake of the Jewish people, for a Jewish future? Save your lives, . . but are you willing to give of your time, wealth, and independence?

When you have what to die for, you have something to live for.  Judaism has given the world a legacy of hope. Judaism affirms the inherent value of each human being. Our religion is a testament to the value of freedom and to human rights. Judaism speaks to the dignity of each person.

Fewer are willing to sacrifice for Judaism. People are unplugged from religious life and plugged into their devices. Perhaps we fear failing the test – as God tested Abraham and King David. Perhaps we are protective of ourselves, fearful that we don’t have enough time, enough resources, enough freedom.

The challenge for 5784 is to ask ourselves are we willing to sacrifice for Judaism, for the Jewish people, and for a Jewish future. Are we able to show our children and grandchildren, nieces, and nephews, that there is great value in giving time, wealth, and identity to being Jewish.

Judaism is about living in service of something greater than yourself.  If you live not according to God’s voice but to your own voice, you will be paralyzed within your ego, fearful, bored, lonely. The key is to find balance, balance between your devotion to the greater cause represented by Judaism and self-preservation. A life consumed only with your needs is not a life well lived.  A life only about yourself is imbalanced. A life lived only about yourself is unfulfilled. May this be a year in which you find the balance, recognizing the value in sacrifice that is the foundation of Judaism.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

The promise of freedom is at the heart of the Passover seder. Freedom is not merely the liberation from slavery but goes to the quality of our lives. This year, challenges to freedom plague our world and our people. Will your seder stick only to the 3,500-year-old story or fast forward to the present-day reality?

Ultimately, Passover directs us toward freedom. I doubt that the final phase of the Exodus has been reached if democracy in the promised land is in peril. We who love Israel are concerned about its recent descent toward autocracy.

Perhaps the most dangerous part of Netanyahu’s power grab is the rupture in Israeli society. Most concerning to me is that the hiloni (secular Israelis) are feeling disenfranchised. These are the men and women who defend Israel in the Army and are now hesitating to show up for reserve duty. Others are contemplating leaving Israel. Is Moses’ mission a failure if leading our people out of slavery to freedom brings us to an undemocratic Israel?

The persistent hope of the Exodus story is at the seder’s end when we say, “Next year in Jerusalem.”  Jerusalem may no longer represent our hopes for human rights and freedom.

From a distance, we have supported Israel when under attack. We have yearned for a resolution to the conflict with the Palestinians. But we have not yet dealt with the prospect of an undemocratic Israel.

Jews have been praying for a return to Israel, as a place of refuge, hope, and freedom for Jews. Today, our prayers must turn to protect the democratic Israel we love.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame

The American South hosted Jewish immigrants hoping to live the American Dream. German Jews, Ashkenazi Jews, and Sephardic Jews all found refuge below the Mason-Dixon line. Yet, their American dream included the dual terrors of discrimination and segregation.

Jewish communities thrived throughout the South during times of Jim Crow segregation. They had cordial relationships with their Christian neighbors. Jews had retail businesses and relied upon White Christian customers.  And Jews of the South generally refrained from participation in the civil rights movement.

We learned more by visiting the only remaining synagogue in Selma. Temple Mishkan Israel stands on Broad Street in the heart of Selma, Alabama’s downtown. In 2023, there are three members remaining.  Not three families.  Three members.  We met with Ronnie Leet.  The meeting began with a video about the synagogue. The video was also a fundraising pitch. The building needs $5 million dollars of repairs. Leet argued for the preservation of the building as the only way to tell the story of Selma’s once-thriving Jewish community.

Of interest to our group was how Leet and his family viewed the Civil Rights Movement.  The Leet family watched from a distance. They had a retail store. Mr. and Mrs. Leet worked every day. They had long participated in society with their white Christian neighbors. The Leets feared upsetting those relationships. While his family may have been sympathetic to their Black neighbors, Civil Rights was not their fight. 

Ronnie Leet’s answer was direct and honest. Like the Leets, most of us focus on our families, our livelihoods, and our health. We might take interest in the news and donate to causes. Human nature is inclined toward stasis, even if the arc of the universe leans toward justice.

Jews believe in truth and justice. We celebrate freedom every Sabbath and every Passover. We helped Soviet Jews escape repression. But supporting Soviet Jews did not jeopardize our jobs. We were writing checks to help Israel on Yom Kippur in 1973. But supporting Israel did not imperil our families.

Some will argue that we have an obligation to our own people before we can help others. I might agree with that argument if we were a people of limited resources and limited power. But American Jews have more wealth and more power now than any Jewish people in over 2,000 years. Our place in America is secure, despite recent episodes of anti-semitism.

I don’t condemn the Selma Jewish community of the mid-twentieth century. They were afraid and fear motivates us to protect ourselves. Rather, I will focus on those who did show up, who funded civil rights campaigns, and who pressured their representatives to rectify the injustices of segregation.

The Southern Jewish communities are dwindling in size. Where there is racism, there is anti-semitism. Why would Jews continue to live and work where their futures are in peril?

While life for Jews in America has improved in the past sixty years, discrimination against African Americans continues. Jews might leave the South, but let’s not forget our fellow Americans who suffer bias and degradation.