In my free time, I am president of my synagogue--a large Reform congregation with about 1800 families. As president, I give a lot of speeches. Here is a copy of my Kol Nidre address. Thanks for reading it. It's about tradition, community and synagogue life.

A mother is making brisket for the holidays as her son watches. She seasons the meat, slices off each end and places in the pan. “Mommy,” the boy asks, “why do you cut off each end before you put the brisket in the pan?”

“It's how my mother always did it,” she answers. “You will have to ask her why this makes it taste so good." The boy dials the phone. “Grandma, why do you cut off each end of the brisket before you cook it? How does that make it taste better?” The grandmother pauses before answering, “That is how my mother did it—it was the secret to her recipe.”

So the family goes to visit the great-grandmother. “Bubbe,” the young boy asks. “When you make brisket, why does cutting off each end of the meat make it taste better?” “What taste better?” the bubbe replies “it was the only way it would fit in my pan.”

Each of our families has traditions that have been passed down from generation to generation. Some are steeped with history and meaning; others we do simply because we have always done them. Some we can’t wait to share, some we do grudgingly, and some we are forced to stop when those who keep them alive die. But all weave together to create the fabric of who we are. Tradition can be everlasting and, at the same time, all too fragile. It takes just one person to stop telling a story, to stop cooking a meal, visiting a relative or yes, to stop observing a holiday, and an entire chain can be broken.

I have been thinking of this frailty since July when I read an article in the Wall Street Journal titled “More City Bar Mitzvahs Hold the Religion.” The author described a trend in which Jewish families chose to have what he called a Secular Bar Mitzvah when their child turns 13. I was NOT bothered by the non-traditional venues where the ceremonies took place, or that most of the children prepared for these occasions outside of a formal educational process. After all, there certainly is no “one size fits all” method of Judaism.

However, I was troubled to read that many of these ceremonies contained no mention of God, no prayers, and no Torah. While the events were meaningful for the participants and their families, many deliberately excluded rituals and traditions that have been integral parts of Judaism for centuries.

As I read this article, I couldn’t help but think about the early builders of Rodeph Sholom who established our congregation an Orthodox shul in 1842. When CRS evolved into a Reform synagogue, its leaders kept traditions that were key parts of Judaism—they remained steadfastly committed to ritual, education and social action. I also thought of the more recent sustainers of this community, many of whom came to America and to Rodeph Sholom after escaping the Nazi regime in Europe. Their lives had been at risk because of their Judaism. What would they think of a deliberate exclusion of tradition due to a perceived lack of immediate relevancy?

Reform Judaism is built on the concept that individuals have the freedom to interpret ritual in a way that is meaningful for them. We are not expected to follow all the commandants. Rather, we have the opportunity and the obligation to learn about them and embrace those that help us feel spiritual and perhaps more connected to God. There is room in our laws and liturgy for each to find what resonates on a personal level.

Does Secular Bar Mitzvah take this freedom too far? That is a question only the individual can answer. And--in reality, I don’t believe Secular Bar Mitzvah is a fad that will sweep the nation. But, just for a second, imagine what would happen to our religion, to our entire people, if a significant part of a generation of Jews became Bar Mitzvah without any mention of God, prayers, or Torah. With no mention or acknowledgment of the actual commandments themselves? What would the following generation of Jews be like? What rituals would they pass on to their children? If one generation breaks the chain, can it ever be repaired?

There are about 6.5 million Jews in the United States, how many of them—and then, perhaps as a result, their children and their children’s children—can we afford to lose? How many of the 2 million in New York City? How many links in the chain are we willing to drop due to lack of familiarity with, or knowledge of, ritual, limited access to a synagogue, ineffective Jewish education or just indifference?

At Rodeph Sholom, the answer is simple. None. Jewish tradition is too important, our history too rich, and our future too exciting, to allow anyone to miss the opportunity to enjoy all that is has to offer.

Every day, our amazing clergy and top caliber staff focus on developing the prayer experiences, the educational programs, and community service opportunities that will deepen our members’ engagement in Jewish life. Rodeph Sholom’s focus on Judaism’s core values of ritual, education and repairing the world is what makes us who we are as a community. These values can serve as a foundation for each individual, help provide a framework for decision-making, and give purpose in these continued times of uncertainty.

The priorities are evident in all our offerings, which are far too numerous to name, but allow me to mention a few. If it is ritual you seek, Rodeph Sholom prays together as a community each Friday night and offers 5 different services most Shabbat mornings. In the coming weeks there will be an array of holiday celebrations; you can join us in the spring for Purim or for our Freedom and Congregational seders. If you want your intellect stimulated, choose from adult education classes, our women’s Torah study group, learning sessions with our clergy and several Shabbaton. Get involved in the community through Mitzvah Day, One Voice to Save Choice activities, Community Organizing, volunteering in our homeless shelter or simply by donating food tomorrow to our annual food drive. We have concerts, a book club, a family trip to Israel, mah jongg, community theater. There is truly something for everyone.

I am incredibly proud and lucky to be a part of all that goes on here. In times where many congregations around the country are cutting programs and losing members because of indifference or financial hardship, Rodeph Sholom is fortunate to be relatively strong. While there might be wild gyrations on Wall Street and political uncertainty in Washington, our purpose is clear and our path well defined.

And so, we must continue to fulfill our obligation by securing our future. But we cannot do it without your help. Since the day Rodeph Sholom was founded, it has been an integral part of our mission to welcome all who seek to be members of our community, regardless of their financial means. I hope I can count on your continued partnership and support that enables us to keep this most sacred promise.

And, equally important, your participation in our programs and activities strengthens our community, making it all the more vibrant. You are the sustainers of our remarkable heritage. The fabric of our tradition is a tapestry—the more threads it has, the stronger and more beautiful it is. Whether your family has been here for 5 generations or you are attending your first Rodeph Sholom service, you are a critical part of both our history and our future. Your active involvement helps strengthen not just this generation, and not just your children’s but their children’s as well. So, I thank you for your role in helping us keep THIS most sacred promise.

Your support this past year has been incredible and much appreciated. I look forward to working with you as together we can continue to build a community that will flourish for generations to come.

My family joins me in wishing you a g’mar tov and a 5772 blessed with health, happiness and peace. Shanah Tovah.

Summer Plans

Posted on the bulletin board next to my desk is a picture of me in a hospital gown, in a hospital bed. On the tray in front of me is my laptop and I am on the phone—a conference call to be exact. It was taken 8 and a half years ago, just 16 hours after my first son was born 6 weeks ahead of schedule.

My son, thankfully, was completely healthy. However, for a Type-A personality like me, who had planned how she was going to handle her maternity leave at a relatively new job, an early delivery proved the old adage—humans plan, God laughs.

Since then, I have taken vacation and enjoyed family time all with my blackberry or laptop in tow. I don’t think I have gone 24 hours without checking in with the office—weekends included. My organization has offices in Israel where the workweek is Sunday to Thursday, so early Sunday mornings will find me on email or on the phone addressing a variety of situations. Often times, these are not true emergencies and the time pressure could have been avoided.

My children, now 8.5 and 6 years old, are proud of the work I do. But still, they are very aware of the time their parents spend on blackberries, email and conference calls. As am I. My own father died at the young age of 46. He was a wonderful, attentive father. Despite working very hard, it was clear to my sister and me that his family was always his priority. “No one lies on their deathbed wishing they spent more time at the office” was a phrase he used to say—until he had the chance to prove it.

Each year, there are hundreds of articles attesting the benefits of vacation—not just on personal life but on professional life as well. I remember one from a few years ago that John Baldoni wrote for his Harvard Business Review blog that struck me as particularly well thought-out and succinct.

This year, I will heed the advice of so many experts, with a few modifications. I have made plans to be away from the office for nearly 4 weeks. While much of it is just a change of venue, some of it will be pure vacation time. I have rented a house at the beach for the month of August. I have arranged coverage for my kids to make sure I can be effective-- writing, responding to emails, reviewing budgets, making conference calls. I have a reading list of work related books that I have been meaning to tackle for years. I have set aside time to just think about work, the organization and how it can grow. I can be pro-active, not just reactive. And, I am taking the time I need to rejuvenate and reboot, as all leaders need to do.

Maybe with the recent market panic this is the wrong time to do this, or maybe this is the best time to get the perspective I need. Either way, the work is not going to stop, but the view from my window will change. I will be in touch and look forward to coming back to my real office fully rested and ready to jump right in.

Haven't I Heard This Song Before?

Today's issue of eJewish Philanthropy contains yet another article lamenting the dearth of qualified managers and leaders in the Jewish philanthropic community. As a leader in this sector, I sympathize with many of Scott Brown's points and agree that the community does not do enough to identify, cultivate and retain highly qualified professionals. We must set higher standards for our professionals if we want our organizations to perform at the levels our community needs and our audiences deserve.

However, this article, like many others on the topic, fails to mention that perhaps one reason why some organizations suffer from a lack of quality managers is that they refuse to consider more than half of the applicant pool--women. According to Advancing Women Professionals and the Jewish Community (AWP), women represent 70% of the Jewish professional workforce, but few rise to top positions. (At a later date, we can discuss the state of affairs that dictates the need for our industry to have an entire organization dedicated to this topic). Contrast this situation to the advances made in other industries. Women now head 23% of the universities in the US, including four out of the eight in the Ivy League. More than half of the nation’s [non-Jewish] foundations have women at the helm. Just this month, Sheryl Samberg of Facebook graced the covers or was featured in articles in The New Yorker, Forbes and Fortune and has been floated as a successor, albeit a longshot, to Timothy Geithner. Yesterday's Wall Street Journal featured an article on two sisters who were CEOs of publically traded companies. The list of companies with women at the helm and in upper management is growing faster than I can name them, but the number of women leading Jewish organizations has remained relatively stagnant.

Some say that top jobs in Jewish organizations are not attractive to women. I disagree. I am fortunate to be the head of a terrific organization with a board of directors that has always judged me for my performance and my skills, never my gender. However, I see many organizations that are not like mine. I have heard the war stories from my colleagues throughout the Jewish world. The gender bias is very real in Jewish communal life and comes into play in hiring practice and promotions on a regular basis. Women, the bright, talented, qualified women—the rising stars to whom Mr. Brown refers—will be able to read the situation for what it is, see the limited opportunities and make the decision to pursue careers in other fields. It is happening now and will continue to happen. Until we as a community are willing to look at all the factors that are contributing to the leadership shortage, we will never be able to adequately address the crisis.

Time for Bubble Wands?

I continue to be amazed at that outpouring of commentary the closing of JDub Records has generated. First, I will emphasize, that this article has nothing to do with JDub. I don’t know the organization intimately, but I do admire all that they accomplished. This post is a generic commentary on the industry and the issues that have been raised recently.

There has to be some element of supply and demand in the not for profit world. You have to deliver value to your funders and the end-users of your services. Jocelyn Harmon makes this point very succinctly in her recent post Getting to Value.

Organizations close all the time—and, I will continue to argue, that perhaps more should. Can the established Jewish community do more to help organizations flourish and grow beyond the start-up stage? Yes, but automatically offering growth capital and capacity building funding is not the magic bullet. Many later stage organizations need to be encouraged to rethink their business models. Perhaps, like with for-profit start-ups, the initial management team needs to be supplemented with experienced leaders who know how to take organizations to the next stage of growth. In some cases, there is a limited “market cap” that an organization will reach and it needs to be managed accordingly. We also should not underestimate the value of an organization that does not live forever. Like foundations that are designed to exist for a specific period of time, certain organizations may chose to wind down operations once the mission is accomplished or they no longer can have significant impact.

If funders truly want to make a difference they have to be able to sift through the noise and find the organizations that are or can add value. Just like in the Internet bubble of the late 90s, there is a lot of clutter in the market. However, there is also a tremendous amount of exciting and innovative work being done that is making real change in people’s lives. Now we just need to make sure we are helping those organizations grow and flourish in the way that makes the most sense for them and their audiences.

Not-for-Profit is an IRS Classification….

It does not mean that basic rules of doing business do not apply—especially the most basic; that at some point dollars in have to be equal or greater than dollars out on a sustainable basis.

I too was saddened to hear about the closing of JDub, an organization that forges connections to Judaism through the arts, media and culture. Afterall, I am into Jewish cultural renaissance just as much, or likely more, than the next person. And this article is not about JDub or about any one organization in particular. Rather, it is a response to Sarah Kass’s fear expressed in eJewishPhilanthropy that the closing of organizations like these due to financial constraints after 9 years of operations will inhibit the creativity of others to launch new ventures.

I disagree. I will throw out what is going to be a very unpopular opinion: there are too many new not for profit organizations, but there are not enough good ones.

Lately, it seems that in both the Jewish and secular world, if anyone has an idea of an audience they want to serve, their first thought is to create a new not for profit, rather than seeking to partner with an organization working with a similar audience or in a similar space. As a result, a duplicate organization is created. In the for profit world, competition can lead to lower prices, market efficiencies and consumer benefits. In the not for profit world, it can lead to a duplication of resources, donor confusion and diversion of money from those who need it to overhead.

The non-profit world is so crowded with startups, some without any operating sense or enough customers to either fund or accept its services, it feels like the Internet bubble of the late 90s. As in the late 90s, even savvy funds are having a hard time finding the strong organizations. Funds are getting diluted and the organizations that should survive, the ones that have a good model and serve a real audience, are getting lost in the noise.

Organizations—even those with the 501c3 designation—need to run with operational discipline. They have obligations to the communities they serve to fulfill their promises. They are taking hard earned money from donors and have to spend it wisely and effectively. Yes, not for profits need seed money, start-up capital and investment, but if after some period of time—and that time period could vary—they are not able to retain existing funders and attract new funders and partners to sustain operations and fuel growth, perhaps they have to start asking themselves some hard questions. Are they operating efficiently? Are they meeting a real need in the community?

At some point, we have to look around at the proliferation of not for profit organizations that are competing for the same dollars, the same staff and the same attention and say dayeinu.

It’s Not Other People’s Money – it’s Yours

[The following is a piece did as a guest writter for www.gogirlfinance, terrific site that helps women gain confidence ind dealing with money)

“I think you should try it just once,” my then-fiancee/now-husband said. “It will be slow going at first, but you are going to like it.”

“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly. “But only because you are so into it.”

It was a few months before our wedding. We had moved past china patterns and were on to merging bank accounts and coordinating spending. We were in agreement that it should happen when he suggested we track information via a computer-based personal finance program.

Clearly, Jonathan knew what he was doing. Quicken can become an addiction for a Type-A personality like me. To this day, I methodically (okay, obsessively) enter all our income and expense information into the program, and review it on a regular basis. Want to know what we spend each month on clothing? Groceries? Babysitting? I can give you a fairly good estimate off the top of my head, but if you need an exact number, give me 20 minutes in front of my computer and I will produce a color-coded report.

While we both have MBAs and demanding jobs, the responsibility of our day-to-day accounting has fallen to me, but I am not complaining. I spend a couple hours every few weeks entering information and paying bills. Every six months or so, I create—well, actually, Quicken creates—a chart that shows spending and income by category and my husband and I review it.

There are several programs, some of which are free, that can manage household finances. Despite the availability of these tools and their relative ease of use, I am amazed at how many women have little knowledge about their family finances. Women who, until they were married or had children, not only managed their own finances, but were lawyers, bankers, teachers, consultants, retail buyers, editors, event planners, etc. Some of them still work outside the home. Now, they don’t know their household income, the cost of their housing, what their family spends on groceries, clothing, utilities, etc. Ask them how many bank accounts they have, what’s in their IRA or 401K, if they have adequate life insurance, or college savings for their kids and they smile and just shrug. “My husband takes care of it; I am sure we are fine.”

Are you? You sign your name on your tax return (please don’t tell me your husband forges your signature), do you know you are legally responsible for what’s written? Ignorance is not bliss. Consider a few frightening scenarios: you are chasing down bank accounts while your soon-to-be ex is chasing his former secretary down the beach in the Caymans. Or it’s a few days after the funeral and you don’t know if you can afford to stay in your home and send your kids to the same school next year.

True, these are disasters that are not likely to happen. But, you still need to know what is going on. If you don’t know where it’s coming from and where it is going, you are missing an opportunity to have an equal say in your family’s future. You are also ceding control of a critical aspect of your life. And, if you have children—girls or boys–you are setting a pretty poor example for them.

Take the time to know what is happening in your life financially. Even if you are not the one paying the bills and making the deposits, you need have an understanding of your finances. If you are not comfortable using a software program like Quicken or Mint, ask someone to explain it to you. Set aside time each month to review paycheck stubs, bank statements and bills. Know where your accounts are and how much is in each one. If you need outside assistance, find a planner or banker with whom you are comfortable. There are several banks that have divisions geared just to women who can. Your life and that of your family could depend on it.

The Importance of Communal Living

I have recently had the honor of becoming president of my synagogue. As such, I have the honor of addressing the congregation on Kol Nidre. Below is the much of the text of my speech that explains my feelings about the importance of synagogue life. Apologies for the length; thank you for indulging me.


Early celebrations of Yom Kippur were much different than today’s. When the Temple stood in Jerusalem, observance was far less participatory. On Yom Kippur, Jews would travel to the Temple where the High Priest would seek repentance from God on behalf of the entire community. The Priest would symbolically confer the sins of the Israelites onto a goat that would be released in the wilderness and then sacrifice another goat as a purification offering.

The High Priests and Temple were the focal points of Jewish observance throughout the First and Second Temple Periods. It was the destruction of the Second Temple that marked the end of this era of Jewish life and the creation of the Diaspora that opened the door for a new kind of Judaism.

Religious practice became more participatory with greater involvement from the individual. The synagogue emerged as an important institution and evolved to become the center of social and religious life. Historians attribute the popularity and portability of the synagogue to the continuity of the Jewish people. Without the synagogue, we would not be here today.

My own relationship with synagogues started at birth. My parents were avid temple goers and the synagogue was the center of not just their religious life, but their social life as well. By age 6 or so, we were living in South Windsor, CT, a small suburb east of Hartford. The town was close to my father’s work, had a decent public school system and a small, but active, Reform synagogue.

In my family, regular attendance at Shabbat services was mandatory. Being that this is Yom Kippur, a confession: I did not always appreciate the joys of going to synagogue. Often, on Friday afternoons, I would complain of mysterious ailments in an effort to be left home. “Friday Night Fever” was my parents’ diagnosis, as they pushed me into the car. However, it did not take long for me to memorize the words, both English and Hebrew, of nearly every Shabbat evening service in the Gates of Prayer. My parents’ faces would be marked by a combination of horror and pride as I would randomly quote prayers, responsive readings or meditations at inappropriate times.

As I started to look ahead to my Bat Mitzvah, I decided that if I was going to spend so much time in synagogue, I might as well make the most of it. I may have known the words in the prayer book, but it was time to learn the meanings. Not just of the prayers, but also of the ritual and practices that were associated with Judaism. It was time to stop reciting and start participating.

Through religious school studies, combined with experiences at Camp Eisner, a Reform Jewish summer camp, I began to develop my own relationship with God and an appreciation for ritual and observance.

I was also absorbing the bigger picture. Judaism was more than ritual and learning. It was about community and, in my town with a small Jewish population, the center of this community was our synagogue. Our group of 100 families celebrated every simcha together. We weighed in on political issues like prayer in our public schools. We adopted a family of Russian Jews and supported them until they could sustain themselves. We walked for Israel and raised funds to support Jewish causes.

And, we came together in times of sadness as well. My own relationship and reliance on the synagogue community was sealed when I was nearly 17 and my father was diagnosed with cancer. While he was ill, the parade of visitors, study partners and friends assured us that we were not alone in this struggle. The day he was diagnosed was the last day anyone in my home prepared a meal for almost 18 months. In the 6 months he was treated to nearly a year after his death, there was always dinner waiting for us on our door step, organized, cooked and delivered by someone from our synagogue.

While that entire period was incredibly formative, it was all those leading up to it that enabled me to survive that experience. At a time when I could have easily turned from God, I was fortunate to have a history and heritage to support me. Embracing what were by then familiar Jewish traditions sustained us all. My father especially, who for the first time in decades was released from work obligations, had the time to study and explore religion and God as never before. The strength and comfort he drew from his faith and community enabled him to come to terms with his disease and set a powerful example.

Modern medical advancements were not enough to save my father from cancer, but primitive thousand year-old Jewish practices and traditions saved the rest of our family. Our synagogue community guided us through months of confusion, loss and pain. And it is that foundation and those feelings have guided and sustained me since.

My story of my relationship to synagogue is likely not that all that different from the ones each of you holds in your own hearts. It often starts with a particular need or an event—God willing, a happy one—but an event that is meaningful and draws you to a synagogue. Maybe even this synagogue.

Perhaps you were seeking a Shabbat service, a rabbi to perform a wedding or a religious school for your child. Maybe you were in the process of choosing Judaism or you read about an adult education class of interest. Or perhaps it was for help in your time of need – a shiva minyan, a counseling session, a funeral.

And we, Rodeph Sholom, were able to fulfill that need. And the way we did it –that sermon, that prayer, that class or even committee meeting, touched you and encouraged you to stay and try something else. And for that, I am grateful.

Because the reality is, our community is only as strong as the people who comprise it. And our ability to help each other, to provide that ritual, education, philanthropic or programmatic experience is 100% dependent on all of us showing a willingness to not only find what we are seeking but also to help others meet their own needs.

There are many who will point to changing demographics, declining percentages of affiliated Jews and growing numbers of individual and even virtual ritual opportunities as proof of the declining relevance of the synagogue.

I could not disagree more. In a time where the world around us is changing rapidly, when technology evolves faster than we can read the accompanying directions, when uncertainty is the only thing that is certain, the presence of a synagogue community—of this synagogue community—can be a lighthouse in an otherwise stormy sea.

This congregation provides an unbroken link between our past and our future. For nearly 170 years, Rodeph Sholom has flourished through its commitment to the deeds on which the entire world stands—study, prayer and acts of loving kindness. Like a three-legged stool, you need all for balance. If you remove the communal aspect of our lives, you are taking away a central obligation of Judaism. We are not just individuals, we are part of a larger people who are ultimately responsible for each other.

Each day, Rodeph Sholom lives that promise. Our buildings may be large, our list of members may seem long, but we are no different from that synagogue of my childhood—we are a network of small, interconnected groups that need and support each other. The examples are numerous: our Congregation Based Community Organizing initiative through which we discovered an overwhelming demand for ritual experiences for families with special needs, the first of which was held last week on Rosh HaShannah, our Young Families Group, Our Young Professionals Group, our Empty Nesters. Those who study torah, participate in Mitzvah Day. Or the group who took care of Davida Bernstein. An elderly congregant with no family in New York City, in her declining years, Davida was never alone. There was someone from Rodeph Sholom to take her to doctors’ appointments, provide meals, or visit. And it was our own Rabbi Levine who took that early morning call from the doctor and later led the congregation in saying Kaddish.

This is Rodeph Sholom—and I am honored and proud to be a part of it. Here, you can meet your own needs, be they are spiritual, educational, philanthropic or communal. But you can, and must, help others meet theirs as well. Be a part of our community, not just because it will enhance and enrich your own life—and I firmly believe it will—but also because it enable the same for others. By attending services, classes or events you are creating opportunities for others to do the same; a sacred and selfless act. And frankly, our world can always use a few more of those.

And yes, your financial support is also important, as well. The ritual services we offer, the religious school, the b’nei mitzvah program, the Shabbat dinners, the adult education, the youth programming, the hundreds of activities that take place here have always been open to everyone regardless of ability to pay. It is part of the very fabric of who we are as Jews and as Congregation Rodeph Sholom. We are committed to keeping that promise and only with your continued generosity can we make sure that we never have to break that sacred vow.

Each of us sitting here tonight has found something in this holy place that touches us; please join me in making sure that we can create that same opportunity for future generations. I look forward to working with you in the coming years to ensure that Rodeph Sholom continues to grow and thrive. On behalf of the entire congregation, thank you for your dedication and commitment.