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As I sit down to write this bulletin article, a Target bag stashed with some goodies I bought before COVID-19 hit catches my eye. Among the treasures in the bag are rainbow-themed playroom decorations I bought in anticipation of transitioning over my home office into a play space for my son. Needless to say, that plan has long been postponed as I’ve been working from home and even had to dedicate a section of the room to recording videos and services. But the decorations call to me, as do the rainbows I see lining the windows of homes on my street in honor of healthcare workers.

As we learn in school as young children, it is only after rain that we are able to see rainbows. When we see illustrations of Noah’s Ark after the flood, we usually see the dove carrying an olive branch with a rainbow in the background. Their colorful beauty spreads across a sky once dark and stormy. They remind us that even the darkest of times don’t last forever.

Just like rainbows, the blooming of the flowers and the increasing presence of the sun have a way of just making me feel better and spreading joy and hope. I imagine for most of us, these past few months have been a challenge as we got used to stay-at-home orders and readjusting to going out in public when necessary with masks and gloves. As the weather gets nicer, and news of phases fill our ears, we start to feel that maybe things will start to go back to normal again. We also fear what is still unknown about our future and second or even third waves.

Every year, the month of June is Pride month, and once again we see imagery of rainbows everywhere. Here, the rainbows take on even more meaning. They teach us that even though we may be different, we can live together in harmony and create even more beauty joining together than we can as one color standing on our own.

In the midst of everything else going on, we were also reminded of our culture’s biases and all of the negative things and tragedies that have happened as a consequence.

While the presence of the rainbow flag was abundant last month in June, I believe the message of the rainbow applies even more so now. No matter our color or creed, we are stronger together.

In the middle of a storm, I urge you to look for and appreciate the rainbows in life, both literally and figuratively.

My blessings and well wishes to you all.

We moved our services from people in the synagogue to only the clergy in the synagogue. Then we moved our services to our homes. As Helayne and I navigated how to move everything we do at work to our home, we began to create a sacred space in our house from where we would lead Shabbat Evening services, Shabbat morning Services, B’nei Mitzvah, and Shavuot Festival Services. Our space had to be set up technologically of course, with two or three cameras attached to computers – one to record, one to be on the Torah, and one to view us as leaders, an iPad, and two music stands to hold computers, cue sheets, readings etc. We used our son’s desk lamp to adjust the lighting in the room when shadows fell the wrong way, and I built a Torah stand out of the coffee table from downstairs and the wall, all retrofitted with furniture pads in order to keep the Torah standing safely upright so the Torah could be viewed at the proper angle by the computer camera while one of us or a Bar or Bat Mitzvah child read from it. We needed a table that could be seen from the camera angle that could hold the ritual objects – candles, kiddush cup etc. I used a small bedside table with a bench on top of it covered with my mother’s Shabbat tablecloth to create the “ritual object table.” It came time to set up the ritual objects. Last Passover, my parents accidentally took home our kiddush cups when they left for their house. They were going to bring them back this year. However, like many other things, the Coronavirus Pandemic spoiled those plans. There were no guests at Passover, so we still have not received our kiddush cups. Oh well, we had other kiddush cups downstairs – we picked one. Then came time to pick the candlesticks… Being rabbis, we have received our fair share of candlesticks as gifts throughout our lives. So, we had many to choose from. For my Bat Mitzvah, my brother had purchased for me two silver candlesticks which he asked that I wait to use until I was married. I listened to him. We had a set of candlesticks that were more of a modern take. They look like beautiful designs on their own but when placed together, they make a Jewish star. Breathtaking. The list goes on. Which candlesticks would I choose in my home sanctuary? I really didn’t have to think for long. My eyes were immediately drawn to two small, unassuming bronze candlesticks. They sat on a mirrored tray. They were originally made for a size candle that you can’t find in a store anymore, so my father had fitted a larger candle holder on top and connected them with some clear tubing. I knew I would use those. They were my grandmother’s. And they were her grandmother’s before her. These candlesticks had survived two overseas journeys – one from Odessa to Argentina, and one from Argentina to Ellis Island. These candlesticks had somehow survived the Romanovs, the Communists, the Czars. These candlesticks represent survival. Of course, I would bring in the Sabbath light with my great great-grandmother’s candlesticks. This Pandemic has affected us all in so many varied ways. Bringing the strength of so many generations of strong women in my life who fought to light their Shabbat candles to my leading of services from my home in dangerous times, brought me strength too.

And so, we lit them in our home Sanctuary for the last time (hopefully), for the clergy have returned to North Shore Synagogue to record services. I hope we only move forward. I hope we only remain healthy. I hope this COVID Pandemic becomes just another time period that these beautiful, plain, old, tarnished, candlesticks have survived.

The winter holidays have, in recent years, turned into a “religious holiday competition.” If Chanukah is the festival of lights, how come Christmas gets all the flashy decorations? Christmas gets cookies but at least Chanukah gets things fried in oil. Presents? Yeah, we’ve got that too, but we get presents for 8 nights – so there! This might be all in fun, but in reality, our world right now is rife with competition turned hatred and I, for one, have had enough. And I’m not alone. In the month of December, religious intolerance found us in a world with a deadly shooting at a Kosher grocery store in New Jersey, an executive order from the President divided Jews across the country, vandals destroyed Torah scrolls and many more ritual articles in a synagogue in Beverly Hills, Rohingya Muslims are suffering at the hands of their country of Myanmar, and a new Indian citizenship law passed that is discriminatory to Muslims. Although not in the month of December, the year of 2019 saw bigoted hatred and prejudicial killings at churches, mosques and synagogues the worldwide, and let me stress this – in OUR country too.

That is why I am so proud of my involvement in the Syosset-Woodbury-Jericho Interfaith Clergy Coalition. We are a group of faith leaders from our area who come together to share what we have in common, share opinions and support, and bring our congregants together in understanding, acceptance and love.

In that same month of December, the Interfaith Clergy coalition brought 61 teenagers (14 were from North Shore Synagogue!) of  many faiths, grades 7th-12th, together at St. Edward’s The Confessor Catholic Church on Jackson Avenue in Syosset to meet each other and to learn about the Christian Holy time of Advent. Our students had a wonderful time meeting and learning about each other. The Jewish and Muslim students learned something they didn’t know about Christianity and how it was similar to other “preparatory times in our own calendar.” Later in the month, I was invited to speak at the Quaker school, Friends Academy in Locust Valley, along with a nondenominational pastor, a Catholic Priest, a Muslim Mufti, and a Quaker faith leader, to speak about peace and light – something we all have in common. We each taught about peace and light within our own faith tradition and noticed very quickly how similar we all are. The band and orchestra from the upper school performed as well as the choirs from both the upper school and the 2nd grade. One young student performed on a traditional Chinese instrument from the ching dynasty called a hulus, and another sang a traditional Columbian Christmas song called El Burrito Sabanero. The evening ended with me (the Rabbi), Jen (the Quaker faith leader), and Farhan (the Mufti) walking back to our cars chatting like old friends.

In a world filled with such widespread bigotry, ignorance, and unfounded hatred, it gives me hope to be involved in such wonderful and uplifting programs in our community. There is much work to be done, but like our Biblical Aaron, the brother of Moses, we must answer the call of God to be “pursuers of peace.” And like our patriarch, Abraham, we must live up to God’s command to “be a light.” That light is within each of us. I pray that this year, we let that light shine through.

For many, the months of November and December can be very difficult. There are less hours of sunshine daily. The weather is cold and dreary. Sadly, we know that there is plenty of time until the weather warms up. Winter is the time when the earth looks barren. Plants don’t thrive. Animals hibernate. Less and less natural life is seen. Some say that winter is when the earth is dead.

However, if we look beneath the crunching snow, we will see hidden life. In the North American forests, weasels and squirrels actually create a whole life under the protection of the packed snow. An entire “under-snow world” continues to thrive all throughout the winter. For insects, winter is actually the safest time for them to be young. They stay in rotted out trees, warm all winter where no predator can find them until they emerge in the spring and summer as full-grown adults. Yes, if we look deeper, we can see that winter is not a time of death for the earth, but actually of life, renewal, and rebirth. In fact, many things seem one way at first glance. However, a deeper look reveals very interesting points.

When we study Torah, we are taught that there are four ways to study. Together they form an acronym known as PaRDeS. It means “Orchard,” and we can hear the similarities to the English word, “paradise.” The acronym, PaRDeS, stands for P’shat, Remez, Drash, and Sod. These words refer to varying levels of understanding the text. The P’shat refers to the simple text. The literal meaning of the words. It’s what we usually teach our kids when we tell them a bible story. Remez is a bit deeper. It’s when we see the story as a metaphor. We glean lessons that we can take a little further. Drash means story and it’s where we fill in the missing parts of the bible with our own stories. And Sod is the secret. It’s what is so far underneath the surface, we sometimes don’t see it until the spring thaw.

The ways to study Torah and the Winter season are both metaphors for our lives. There are always multiple layers for us to see. The top layer of snow – fluffy white. The packed down layers that help protect the ground beneath. The layer of earth hiding the whole world underneath and of course, the universe that continues to exist just waiting to emerge in the spring. Every time we feel stuck. Every time we feel lost. All we have to do is keep digging to find another layer, until we find the one with life. And then we just need to bring that layer to the surface.

Think back to the cusp of fall and winter in 2013…do you recall any excitement surrounding Thursday, November 28th? We eagerly gathered with friends and family to celebrate the momentous occasion. Some of us even bought special edition chanukiyot from Kickstarter shaped like turkeys in anticipation of the statistically incredible event- Thanksgivukkuh-the coinciding of Thanksgiving and Chanukah. #Thanksgivukkah was created, “Gobble tov!” became a well wish and sweet potato latkes graced many a table. This overlap of the holidays happened twice in the 1800s, but because both the Gregorian and Hebrew calendars are drifting at different rates from the solar year, it will become even more rare in the future, making this a once in a lifetime event, but I digress.

Why was November 28th, 2013 so special and important to us? Why was there so much hoopla surrounding the holiday? I believe it is because the essence of Thanksgiving feels Jewish to us, and its occurrence during a Jewish holiday made it official, if only for one year.

Why do we celebrate Thanksgiving? In elementary school, we are taught about the Native Americans, the Pilgrims and the meal they shared together, which a couple of hundreds of years later, became the foundation for the national holiday of Thanksgiving. As American Jews, we often find ourselves having to balance our dual identities; Jewish law prohibits us from taking part in gentile customs out of concern that we may stray away from Jewish rules and values. Interestingly, Thanksgiving does not fall into this category because it has become a secular holiday despite the religious motivation that prompted the Mayflower journey.

What makes Thanksgiving feel Jewish? It is a harvest celebration, not entirely unlike Sukkot, and it focuses on being thankful. The pilgrims on the Mayflower were Puritans who sought religious freedom; something that resonates with the Jewish experience and is reflected in the Chanukah narrative. In the Jewish tradition, we bless our food and drink, (among many other things) to show our appreciation to God. While God is not overtly present in the celebration of Thanksgiving, it is about being grateful for the harvest bounty, and who do we thank for that, if not God? Both holidays bring us home to friends and family and fill us with warmth as it gets colder outside.

As the leaves change colors and eventually fall to the ground, some of us dread the ever-growing shorter days, impending darkness and the bareness of the trees around us. Romanticized visions of the first snowfall and enjoying chicken soup during the first snowstorm are soon replaced by the reality of ice salt containers, broken snow shovels and mucky snow.

Our festival of lights, Chanukah, purposefully occurs in our darkest days. As determined by the school of Hillel, we increase the number of candles with each day, adding another one until the eighth day. By adding new and increasing light during our literal darkest days, we are not only reminded of the “miracle of light” but are taught that even when we are surrounded by darkness, light is present. The reminder of the miracle that occurred so long ago encourages us to stay hopeful and positive as the days grow shorter and darker. As we gather close to one another, the warmth of our love (as well as the oven) pervades and comforts us. Celebrating together and engaging in our traditions- the familiar sights, sounds, smells and tastes remind us that goodness endures.

On October 8, 2019, I delivered my Kol Nidre appeal speech. Although a large number of members were in attendance that evening, I have decided to publish it below for the benefit of those members who were not present and to reinforce my message to those who were. Before doing so I want to set forth the inspiration for my message and to dedicate my appeal speech to my parents, Florence and Nathan Henin. My parents joined the Jewish Center of Kew Garden Hills (JCKGH) located in Queens in the mid-1950’s. Both my parents were very much involved in temple life. At one point my father was president of their temple for three years. I suppose a lot of my parent’s commitment to their synagogue rubbed off on me. My father passed away five years ago this week but I followed in his footsteps in not only being active at North Shore Synagogue but also becoming its president this past July. My mother passed away on September 21 of this year, just eight days after her 93rd birthday, while still a member of the JCKGH. Upon her passing, there was a tremendous outpouring of compassion and support to me and my family from many members of the North Shore Synagogue community – some of whom I have known for many years and some of whom I had only a brief familiarity with – which is one of the many reasons you will see below why it is so important and comforting to be a member of a synagogue – and in particular – North Shore Synagogue. Now for my appeal speech.

Good evening. It’s time for the Kol Nidre appeal from the temple president. That’s me!

Let’s get a few things straight. This will not be the typical appeal speech, putting many of you to sleep or dreaming of that dessert you gave up to be here on time. This year I will not recite all the wonderful programs we have here at North Shore Synagogue. You can learn about those programs by reading our weekly happenings or monthly Shalom or by stopping by the main office. So, I’m not going to use my one hour up here to tell you about them. Seriously, I’m just asking for a few minutes of your attention.

So how do I encourage each and every one of you to open up your pockets and make a pledge, and hopefully a very generous pledge this year? That’s a great question. Anyone out there have the answer? Okay, I think I do.

It’s very important to me and many of you sitting out there that North Shore Synagogue has a strong and viable future. Why is there some doubt about that future? Let me tell you why. It’s a fact that the number of Jewish families living in our area is on the decline and many of those Jewish families who do move in believe, unlike all of you, that they have no need for a synagogue. That thinking, of course, could potentially lead to the end of synagogue life as we know it. But, as most of you know, synagogue life, whether you attend one or two days a year or every week of the year, is vital to us to maintain our Jewish identity. It’s more important than ever that we have a place to go to – where we act as one, with a common heritage, common holidays, common rituals, common morals, common principles and common beliefs. North Shore Synagogue is that place. Our synagogue serves to bring Jews together – for worship, study and community.

Each of us has our own reasons for being a member of North Shore Synagogue. In the spirit of Jewish tradition, if I asked everyone here for your reasons I’d get many, many different answers.

To me, North Shore Synagogue is the place where our children and grandchildren are being taught to love and embrace Judaism, and enjoy the many wonderful holidays and traditions our religion boasts. 

To me, North Shore Synagogue is the place where we can celebrate together holidays, mitzvahs and other joyous occasions.

To me, North Shore Synagogue is the place to come together to support others in crisis, to rally together to help others in need, and console one another when a loss of a loved one must be confronted.

To me, North Shore Synagogue is the place where we meet new friends, experience friendship, and have a sense of belonging.

To me, North Shore Synagogue is the place where we come to address larger Jewish concerns by addressing anti-Semitism, engaging in Tikkun Olam – and worship together to improve the nature of our society and the world.

To me, North Shore Synagogue is the place where we form a new link in the chain of Jewish tradition carrying on historic values for future generations to inherit.

So, North Shore Synagogue is important to me for many reasons. North Shore Synagogue is, in essence, a community, a special community consisting of all of us – of which we are all a part of – and which plays an important role in our lives.

It’s hard to be Jewish alone. Through a congregation, one’s Jewish life experience is enhanced and expanded by partnering with a community that is lasting and offers a rich menu of experiences throughout the year. That is what a Synagogue like North Shore Synagogue is all about – a place to provide for the spiritual, communal and educational needs of every generation of Jews.

Now some of you may be thinking, all that you say is fine, but let someone else come forward to pay for the privilege of maintaining our synagogue and synagogue life – I already pay my dues. But dues barely get us by each year. It’s your Kol Nidre pledges and continuing membership that will take us into the future. If you leave it up to others, sooner or later, there will no longer be any others and Jewish life as we now experience it here at North Shore Synagogue may come to an end. Now, I don’t want to scare anyone into thinking that North Shore Synagogue is about to shut down. It’s not – and I expect it will be here for many, many more years to come. But, it’s important, that we not take that for granted

So once again I ask each of you to be generous this year when you make your Kol Nidre pledge.

Do it for yourselves. Do it for your family. Do it for your children. Do it for your grandchildren, and Do it for the generations to come.

On behalf of myself, my family, and the staff and the entire Board of Trustees of North Shore Synagogue, La Shana Tovah, a healthy and prosperous New Year to you and your families, and thank you for being a part of the North Shore Synagogue family.

During Rabbinical School, each student must complete at least one unit of CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education). We are assigned to a hospital and floor or to a rehabilitation home, a nursing home, or other places in need of a chaplain. I was sent to St. Albans VA hospital, in Queens, on the palliative care floor. We worked 400 hours that summer to complete our training. So, needless to say, I spent a great deal of time with my patients. Of all my patients, only one was Jewish, and he was mostly unresponsive. So, I had to learn how to comfort, console, and pray with people of another faith. Comfort and consolation came relatively easy. My patients were human beings, just like me. All they needed in terms of comfort and consolation, was a safe shoulder to lean on, an open ear, and caring heart. But prayer proved itself to be much more difficult for me.

I had memorized Hebrew prayers. Or, I could read them from a siddur. But my patients,
some on the brink of existence, wanted more than written words – even those used for generations and centuries. They wanted me to channel the Almighty and “Pray from my heart.” Fear paralyzed me. Slowly but surely, I allowed them to teach me how to pray. At first, I sat quietly and listened to what they were asking of God. Then I began to feel their pain, join with them in their memories, and their requests and an entirely new world of prayer opened up for me.

I began to research spontaneous prayer in Judaism. It turns out that “invented prayer” or spontaneous prayer not found in the pages of any books, has a rich and deep history on our people. Certainly, when our ancestors spoke with God, it was not through words that were printed in a book handed out at services. It was often a conversation – sometimes with a response and most of the time without. But it kept coming. A pouring out from the heart in the hopes that someone, hopefully the Eternal One will catch them, hear our prayers, and hopefully answer them.

So, while this idea was new to me, it certainly wasn’t new to Judaism as a whole, on the contrary, it was like bringing back a long-lost friend. It was a new beginning for me to a new world of praying. It was frightening at first because I didn’t know what to say or do to make it sound “authentic.”

I decided to try it anyway. I decided that I would dive in head first and just speak to God on behalf of my patients. The experience is one that would change me and my relationship with God forever.

We now stand at the precipice of the High Holy Day season. We will spend a great deal of our time in synagogue reading prayers printed in books. They most certainly are beautiful and poetic messages to God. But let us not forget our rich and deep heritage of personal, spontaneous prayer. We may never have done it before and it may even feel foreign to us, but trying something new and making the old new again, is what this time is all about.

From my entire family to yours, we wish you a sweet and wonderful New Year.

Rabbi Jaimee Shalhevet

I would like to begin with a sincere “thank you” to all of you who have helped to ease my transition to North Shore Synagogue. It has been a pleasure meeting you, whether it be at Shabbat services, Torah Study, at the Brotherhood Barbeque or around the synagogue. I have felt and continue to feel embraced and welcome in my new spiritual home. To those of you I have not yet met, I look forward to seeing and meeting you soon.

High Holy Day preparations are underway and every year this reminds me that not only do we need to prepare the details surrounding the High Holy Days, but we need to ready ourselves. Our tradition gives us a period of time to do this, the Hebrew month of Elul which precedes the High Holy Days. This year, Elul begins on the first of September. The word Elul means “to search” and throughout the course of this month, we search our hearts; reflecting and preparing ourselves for the upcoming Days of Awe.

The letters of Elul form an acronym for the phrase, Ani l’dodi v’ dodi li, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” from Song of Songs 6:3. While this verse is often interpreted as love poetry between a couple, the phrase also represents the love between God and the Jewish people, especially at this time of year when God draws closer to God’s people. During the month of Elul, the shofar is blown daily during morning services, acting as a wake-up call to stir us from our complacency and towards the call of both repentance and forgiveness.

Each day it is also traditional to recite Psalm 27, Achat Sha’alti during the month of Elul through the end of Sukkot. For the twenty-nine days in Elul up to the High Holy Days, the Psalm guides us to do the spiritual work of t’shuvah. In the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we keep up the practice, hoping that our work enables us to be sealed in the Book of Life. Continuing the practice through the seven days of Sukkot allows us to begin the New Year with our focused intention to do better this year.

In English, the text of Achat Sha’alti begins, “One thing I ask of Adonai, is only that I seek to live in the house of Adonai all the days of my life; to gaze upon the beauty of Adonai, and to frequent God’s temple,“ expressing our desire to draw closer to God during this period.

The Jewish notion of t’shuvah literally translates as “return” but we understand it to mean repentance. The literal meaning of t’shuvah enhances our understanding of our annual opportunity to repent. We return to God, to our Source, and start again anew. After the spiritual work of turning, our slates are wiped clean. We forgive both ourselves and others for every time that we missed the mark during the previous year and we try again to be our best selves in the coming year.

At Shabbat services during the month of Elul, we will be incorporating this liturgy into our service and singing Israel Katz’ melody, a popular and meditative setting of the Psalm. It is my hope that this will give us a meaningful opportunity to open our hearts, turn inwards and prepare ourselves for the days of Awe.

Cantor Mariel Ashkenazy

Summer is upon us and much is changing. No longer is there the familiar morning ritual of getting the kids ready for school. (Now it’s camp.) No longer do we complain about the cold frigid air and turn on the heat. (Now we complain about the heat and turn on the air.) No longer do we search for the warmest long-sleeve shirt (Now it’s the most breathable fabric.)

My point with all these parenthetical statements (in case you hadn’t noticed them) is that change is constant and, while different, is not bad at all. Actually, change can also be a moment of clarity and of incredible potential to propel us forward into a glorious future.

We at North Shore Synagogue are in a moment of change as well. Cantor Cotler and Rabbi Maimin have moved on to different areas of their careers and we wish them well. And while we will miss them, we now have the opportunity to welcome two new and amazing people to our North Shore Synagogue family.

Our new Cantor comes to us from Roslyn where she grew up at Temple Judea in Manhasset. Cantor Mariel Ashkenazy has both a voice that sounds like a ministering angel and the closeness of sitting on the floor when singing with and teaching our Nursery School children. She even brought along her pet dinosaur to help them celebrate shabbat! Cantor Ashkenazy brings with her a pastoral maturity far beyond her years and an ability to lead services with both formality and a laid back candor of a close friend. Cantor Ashkenazy is thrilled to be remaining home on Long Island and joining our North Shore Synagogue family.

Our youth group (K-12) and our youth programming will now be run by Joanna (Joey) Falk, an experienced youth leader who has worked for the Sid Jacobson JCC in Roslyn as well as being part of NFTY in her youth and a madricha (teaching assistant) at her home synagogue during her high school years. Joey joins us as full time staff and is very excited to be a part of many, many aspects of our synagogue.

I know that you will all join me in welcoming our two new family members as we rocket to a beautiful future of camaraderie, teamwork, and the spirit of North Shore we have all come to know and love.

M y favorite biblical book, the Song of Songs, states, “Arise my love, my fair one, and come away. For now the winter is past, and the rains are over and gone. The blossoms have appeared in the land, the time of pruning has come.”

At first glance, this love poem speaks of a beautiful time of flowers and fragrances, of sunshine, warmth, and love. But, as Rabbi Ben Bag Bag taught, “turn it, turn it, and turn it again, for the whole world is in it.” Our Jewish texts must be read time and time again, with a deeper more exhausting reading, each time. Just below the surface of this exquisite verse is a message about change. Most of us yearn for the time when “winter is past and the rains are over and gone.” No longer do we hide away in our houses covered in woolen blankets. No longer do we curse the morning chill as we scrape ice and snow off of our cars. Now, when winter is past, we take our bicycles out of our garages instead of our cars. We may open our windows a little more often. We welcome this change. But Song of Songs goes on to say, the blossoms have appeared in our land, the time of pruning has come.

To prune is to clip, cut, snip, trim, shorten, to condense. It is to change our shape in some way. When we come out of the winter hibernation, and we look through our closets in search of bathing suits, shorts, and beach towels, we sometimes find ourselves waxing nostalgic at the remnants we find that we had forgotten. Sometimes, we take them out of storage to find that they no longer fit, or have simply worn too thin. It is time to prune these items from our lives. Sometimes the rummaging through old things is not physical. It is emotional. Perhaps we have changed over the course of the winter months. Perhaps our circumstances have been altered. We too, like the blossoming trees spoken of in Song of Songs, need some pruning. It is time to change something about ourselves.

Change is hard. There is simply no getting around that. And yet, change happens everyday. As the Greek Philosopher Heraclites said, “The only constant is change.” Well, at least that’s one thing we can depend on. The important thing to understand is that all our lives stand on not what changes take place in our lives, but rather how we handle those changes. Every change has the potential to bring us blessing or curse. The choice is ours. We can fight the change with all our might or we can move with it, allowing ourselves to bend and sway with the changing winds. An African proverb states, “The wind does not break a tree that bends.”
Sometimes we find it hard to bend and move with all the changes around us. But once again, it is all in how we look at it. Perhaps it is a responsibility to be flexible. Perhaps it is an obligation. Or perhaps it is a blessing.

A little known folk song teaches, “A loving God and things in their own time: In nothing more do I trust. We own nothing, nothing is ours…But this poverty is our greatest gift. The weightlessness of us as things around begin to shift.”

When the world is changing too fast for us to comprehend, we have a choice. We can fight against the winds of change, or we can open up our sails and see where the breeze takes us. This second approach requires trust. Trust that if we sway and bend, at some point the vines will blossom and the pruning will make for a healthier tree. The constant change will continue, but with faith and trust in God and in our fellow human beings, we can survive with minimal struggle and arrive to the next line in Song of Songs, “The green figs form on the tree; the vines in blossom give forth their fragrance. Arise my love. My fair one, come away.” When we let go and allow ourselves to revel in the changes and evolutions around us, those trees we pruned will give forth beautiful flowers we can enjoy.

We here at North Shore Synagogue are undergoing our own change as we bid a fond farewell to Rabbi Rachel Maimin and Cantor Kyle Cotler. While we have learned so much from them and truly treasured the time they have spent with us, it is time for them to move on with the next steps of their lives and careers. We know that their vines will blossom and we wish them both the very best that life has to offer. They will always be family.