High Holy Day Services
5772/2011

Erev Rosh Hashanah
Wednesday,
September 28
6:30 p.m.
Early Service
Families, please click here!
8:45 p.m.
Late Service

Rosh Hashanah
Thursday,
September 29

10:00 a.m.
Morning Service

10:00 a.m.
Youth Program

3:00 p.m.
Children's Service

Rosh Hashanah,
2nd Day
Friday,
September 30

10:00 a.m.
Service

12:30 p.m.
Tashlich on Brooklawn Parkway near Stratfield Road

Early Rosh Hashanah Service – a successful innovation with interactive story telling for children
We received great feedback from the past years’ "family friendly" innovation to the early service on Rosh Hashanah Eve and will repeat it again this year.

The Erev Rosh Hashanah Service at 6:30 p.m.on Wednesday, September 28, will again respond to the intergenerational community of which we are all so proud. We'll use the Gates of Repentance and stay pretty consistent with the liturgy and melodies to which we have become familiar.  The sermon will be as usual.

To welcome families with children, once again we’ll make a few changes in the prayers and music, but the primary innovation will be that mid-way through the service, children (and adults who choose) will leave the main sanctuary for a special interactive story telling with Rabbi Gurevitz in our new chapel.  After about a half hour we’ll join together at the end (around 8:00 p.m.) for Kiddush and closing prayers.

The 8:45 Service will be as normal.

Kol Nidre
Friday, October 7

6:30 p.m.
Early Service

8:45 p.m.
Late Service

Yom Kippur
Saturday, October 8

10:00 a.m.
Morning Service
Youth Program

1:00 p.m.
Adult Learning and Meditation

1:30 p.m.
Children's Service

2:30 p.m.
Story Hour - Stories, songs, discussion and craft!

2:45 p.m.
Afternoon Service

4:30 p.m.
Yizkor and Neilah Services

Radio “Outreach” is now available
If you are unable to come for the High Holy Days or Shabbat, you can now listen to all of our services on special radio receivers which are available to you on loan from the Temple.  Please contact Cantor Blum to pick up a radio and the schedule of other services which will be broadcast during the year.

Kol Nidre Broadcast
WVOF, 88.5 FM in Fairfield, will broadcast the Kol Nidre Service from Congregation B’nai Israel from 6:00 to 8:15 p.m. on Friday, September 17.  The broadcast is underwritten by Congregation B’nai Israel and is intended for those who are unable to attend services.  We are grateful to Fairfield University for making this live broadcast possible. 

Sukkot
Wednesday, October 12

5:00 p.m.
Bring fruits, vegetables, flowers, gourds, cards and any of your favorite hanging paraphernalia to help decorate
our lovely B'nai Israel Sukkah.

6:00 p.m.
In celebration of our harvest festival and the bounty we are blessed with, bring a dish that can feed 8 to share at our picnic. To ensure a balanced variety of dishes, last names beginning A-L please bring a side dish, and last names beginning M-Z please bring a main dish.

7:00 p.m.
Erev Sukkot service

Thursday, October 13
10:00 a.m.
Shabbat/Sukkot Worship

7:00 p.m.
Rosh Chodesh Group Interfaith Sukkot Celebration

Simchat Torah
Wednesday, October 19

5:30 p.m.
Flag making

6:00 p.m.
Family Service, with the Temple Band and Junior Choir

Thursday, October 20

10:00 a.m.
Shabbat Worship
and Yizkor prayers

Where will you be this Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur?

Where will you be this year during the High Holy Days? "With the in-laws" or "At B'nai Israel" are not the kind of answers I'm looking for here. I mean, wherever you are for services, where will you be while the prayers are sung, the Rabbi speaks, and the pages are turned?

If your internal response to this question is one where you find yourself thinking in black and white images of "other Jews" (prays along, seems to know what they are doing) or "me" (mind wanders, feel a bit bewildered by all the words, wondering why it takes so long), then this is the year to change your self-image and rediscover a gateway into a spiritually enriching and meaningful High Holy Day experience. Like the gates of repentance that we speak of on Yom Kippur but which are, in fact, open to us at any time, the gateway into meaningful worship is always there, but sometimes we need a little help to find it.

To begin, we have to tell ourselves a different story. Each one us have stories about ourselves that we play like a movie running inside our head on a continuous loop. When we find that a particular story we tell ourselves leads us to repeat patterns of behavior or respond to particular people and events in a predictable way that seems limiting, judgmental or closed, perhaps it's time to let go of that story - it is no longer serving us.

One story that many of us tell ourselves (and I have certainly had this story as part of my movie collection for a portion of my life) is that formal Jewish ritual doesn't work for us. Prayer seems foreign to us. Once we've convinced ourselves that this story is true, we keep prayer and ritual at arm's length, ensuring that we can't possibly be proven wrong.

Part of the problem is that we've created a division that doesn’t really exist. We separate the life of prayer from the rest of life. What if we try a new story? Ani tefilati l'cha - I am my prayer to You. We need to take time to reintegrate prayer and our being and doing. We have to work a little harder with some of our liturgy that is written in the language of medieval poets to "translate" the text back into an emotion that we know because we've felt it, or a sense of limitation that we recognize because we know we could have done more and been more this year, or a yearning to sense God in our lives and be directed on a good path. The Machzor (Festival prayer book) has many words that can lead us to places that we recognize because they are things that we feel, questions we have, or hopes for growth, change or healing that we hold. When we
find these words, they are invitations to take some time with those life experiences that they remind us of.

It's not only figuring out how to connect to the words - sometimes the melody of a prayer opens up a space in our heart that moves us to reflect on something in our life. That reflection is not "my mind wandering". That narrative doesn't serve us. Rather, when our minds turn to events in our lives, relationships with others, and we find ourselves in a reflective space during a service when we stop reciting words on the page then we are, in fact, in a place of deep prayer.

It is hard to do this kind of praying, integrating life and text, and read every word on every page. It's overwhelming, and not every piece of text in the Machzor will speak to us immediately. So, when reciting words in unison starts to feel like rote performance, or the words just feel too unfamiliar to serve your prayer at that moment, then take time out to connect your own life experience to just one paragraph, one line, or even one phrase that calls to you from the page, and go to your own place. This is the deepest kind of prayer. I hope you have a sweet, happy and healthy, and prayerful New Year.

Shanah Tovah,
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Over the years, more than one discerning student has asked that question. The first of Tishri, after all, is Rosh Hashanah, but it happens to occur half a year after Nisan, the first month in our calendar. What's going on and when does the year really start?

Like many Jewish questions, there are at least two answers - and both can be considered correct.

Nisan is the month of spring. It's also the month of Passover. Rebirth of the earth and the freedom of a People from enslavement were good reasons to make Nisan the first month in our calendar. But, for 2,000 years the Jewish people have celebrated the New Year at the start of the 7th month. Explanations abound, but my favorite connects Rosh Hashanah and the High Holy Days to an echo of Shabbat as the 7th day. In this way, Tishri is the Sabbath of months. As the Sabbath is to provide us a sense of spiritual renewal and connection after six days of work, the 7th month also becomes a special time for some enhanced spiritual renewal and connection.

The difference between Nisan the 1st month and Tishri the 7th is that Nisan with the celebration of Passover is about us as a group -- a tribe. It's about the historic redemption of a People and God's deliverance of US. Tishri, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are about ME.

Of course we make a powerful statement about group identity when we gather on mass the way we do each year. But the days ahead go well beyond the spirit of an annual convention. As a rabbi, it is reassuring to see the Temple filled to capacity during the Holy Days and I must admit that I find myself wondering why even the peripheral see these days as times to attend.

While some might say it is to please parents, departed or alive, out of habit or to be seen, I think a lot more is going on than just filial piety, conformity and social pressure. It may be that even in our largely secular world we periodically seek a higher connection, a sense of holiness, some transcendent moments. Doing that surrounded by hundreds of others in the same pursuit can be very powerful.

...Nisan with the celebration of Passover is about us as a group -- a tribe. It's about the historic redemption of a People and God's deliverance of US. Tishri, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are about ME.

Rosh Hashanah also provides us a chance to take a very personal inventory. It's a chance to reflect on our assets and debits during the past year and to struggle with the negative aspects of our personality. We all have visions of ourselves at our best, but since we're human we don't live up to those lofty images as often as we'd like.

The Days of Awe are a chance for us to go beyond the imminently breakable resolutions of the secular New Year and with the help of so much quiet time spent in prayer and reflection, to change the way we live.

Life changing moments of transcendence! I can't guarantee that you'll find such opportunities during the days ahead, but to have even a chance to succeed, I hope you'll open yourselves up to the possibilities.

From my family to you and yours - a Shanah Tovah - a Good and Sweet New Year.

Rabbi James Prosnit

A tourist noticed that the Tel Aviv cabbie had a shofar in his front passenger seat. Curious, the passenger asked: "Why the shofar?"

Cabbie: "Oh, that's how I tell time."

Passenger: "Tell time?"

Cabbie: "Sure! Just last night, for instance, I wanted to know what time it was. So, I blew the shofar. Just as I expected, someone yelled out a window: 'Quiet! Don't you know that it's one o'clock in the morning?'"

The shofar is an excellent device to tell time - more specifically, to remind us each Rosh Hashanah that it is time once again to take stock of ourselves and our relationship with others and with God. More specifically, the shofar has often been analogized to an alarm clock. These words from the shofar service should stir your soul: "Awake you sleepers, from your sleep! Rouse yourselves, you slumberers, out of your slumber! Examine your deeds, and turn to God in repentance . . . . Look closely at yourselves; improve your ways and your deeds. Abandon your evil ways, your unworthy schemes, every one of you!"

If the shofar blasts awaken your soul as intended, they will penetrate deep within you. This year, as you stand to hear the shofar blasts, you may want to close your eyes for full effect. And as you really listen to - and not merely hear - the shofar blasts, reflect on their meaning.

T'kiyah: Solid, unwavering, whole as the round challah we share on Rosh Hashanah. This initial blast is an alarm, alerting us that we must examine our lives and take stock of ourselves; that time does not stand still; that it is never too late to act; and that life must be renewed continually. Heed the admonition of 11th century Sephardic sage Bachya ibn Pakuda: "Days are scrolls: write on them only what you want remembered." What will you change in the coming year?

Shevarim: Three wailing moans. No longer the solid, unwavering sound, but a broken, mournful cry, full of sadness. There is sadness in the world, and people are crying out for help. Are you doing anything to reduce their suffering?

T'ruah: Nine abruptly disconnected staccato blasts, broken up into little fragments, symbolic of all the broken parts of our lives: our mistakes, disappointments, losses, failures, pains, weaknesses, broken promises, dashed expectations and shattered dreams. What can you do in the coming year to set things right?

T'kiyah G'dolah: The sustained, powerful and uplifting extended blast. Aware of the broken sounds in our lives, the shevarim and t'ruahs of our lives, if you are truly listening, you can strive to make yourself whole again. It is within your power - energized by the power of the shofar blasts - to apply your vital energies to help those who are suffering, and to fix the broken pieces of your own life, for wholeness, by words and acts of understanding, support, encouragement, compassion, comfort and love. And so, the final blast is a sound of wholeness - a prayer for a better future, and a message of hope.

And so, the final blast is a sound of wholeness - a prayer for a better future, and a message of hope.

If you really listen to the shofar blasts, you will understand why the prophet Amos wrote: "When the shofar is sounded in the city, shall the people not tremble?"

As I stand on the bimah, poised to blast the shofar, the energy from the congregation, in anticipation of this soul-stirring moment, is palpable. I take in all that energy, and then create a sound to make everyone tremble, including myself. Focusing on the solemnity of the moment, I am well aware that this is the very sound that caused untold millions of Jews over thousands of years, including members of our congregation, some standing before me and others no longer among the living, to tremble. For an instant, I stand in awe of this moment. Then, looking at the sky that is visible from the bimah, I transmit all that spiritual energy into the shofar blasts.

Stewart Edelstein

Click here to listen to the Shofar
and see some beautiful pictures of Israel!

Shofar Sermon 2009
Stewart Edelstein

On this twentieth anniversary of my blowing the shofar for our congregation, I am honored to share some thoughts with you about the meaning of the shofar blasts.  But first, a few words about my career as a shofar blower.  It started with my going to Hebrew School when I was a kid, but not for the reason you may think.  While being carpooled to Hebrew School, I was intrigued by an odd-shaped case that belonged to one of the parents – a French horn player in the Rochester Philharmonic in Rochester, New York, where I grew up.  At the age of nine I started lessons at the Eastman School of Music, and have been playing the horn ever since – over fifty years so far.

What does this have to do with blowing the shofar?  The embouchure for the horn and the shofar are similar, so blowing the shofar for a horn player is a natural.  Bob Gillette, the shofar blower in our congregation for many years, graciously turned the honor over to me when my family joined the congregation.  I had purchased my own shofar years earlier, and knew how to blow it.  This particular shofar is not the shrill ram’s horn, but the longer horn of a kudu, an African antelope, which produces a deeper, more soul-penetrating sound.

I have given much thought over the years to the meaning of the shofar blasts.  As a French horn player, I initially approached the shofar as I would any other musical instrument.  But the shofar is much more than just a musical instrument.

I learned something about the difference between playing the French horn and blowing the shofar from Daniel Katzen, a friend of mine whose career was as a French horn player with the Boston Symphony.  He told me this story in an email message:

“We had a very learned, beloved and extremely perceptive rabbi-member in the Newton Centre Minyan named Dick Israel . . . .  He died suddenly some years back. The last time I saw him, he was in the hospital …and it was just after the [Jewish] holidays.  For years, I had struggled with exactly how to become part of the shofar and of the sound, since I was so used to being the musician in the relationship with the horn, not exactly part of it ("if I let go of my ego, I might miss more notes").  That year, however, something settled in me, and . . . the sound emanated from deeper inside me….  So, when I went to visit Dick in the hospital room, he had me lean down close so he could whisper in my ear: "This year, for the first time, you were a shofar-blower, not a horn player trying to blow the shofar."  That was the last time I saw him.”

The shofar I have blown over the past twenty years has a very personal significance to me.  I bought it in Israel, where I went to fulfill the last wish of my brother, Bob -- to be buried at the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem.  He died of cancer when he was 48.  I selected this shofar out of more than a dozen I tried out, because it produced the most soul-penetrating sound.

So, what is the sound of the shofar when the shofar blower becomes part of the shofar?  An alarm clock for the soul.  A summons to take stock of our lives.  A wordless prayer.  The mysterious sound of the shofar is beyond description.

The shofar’s piercing blasts penetrate deep within, awakening our very beings.  We are about to read these words together:  “Awake you sleepers, from your sleep!  Rouse yourselves, you slumberers, out of your slumber!  Examine your deeds, and turn to God in repentance.  Look closely at yourselves; improve your ways and your deeds.  Abandon your evil ways, your unworthy schemes, every one of you!”  What do these words mean to you?

Today, we hear the same shofar blasts that stirred the souls of our ancestors thousands of years ago.  In Biblical times, the shofar announced the beginning of the new moon, the start of the Jubilee year, the coronation of a king, and all the solemn moments of the year.  But when the new moon of the seventh month came to be observed as the New Year, the sounding of the shofar took on new and deeper meanings.

According to Jewish tradition, the sound of the shofar cannot be created by mechanical means.  With no artificial mouthpiece, valves, or holes, the shofar produces only the harmonics provided by nature.  To make the sound of the shofar, breath is required, making the shofar a wind instrument.  In Hebrew, the word for wind, ruach, also means spirit.  And so, the shofar is a naturally created spirit instrument, ideal to evoke our highest nature, summoning us to be in harmony with our best selves, unencumbered by contrivance or artifice.

What do the sounds of the shofar communicate about this worthy purpose?  Consider the shofar blasts, and what they mean to us.  Words fail us in times of intensity – shrieks of joy when loved ones reunite; wails of sorrow when loved ones die.  And so it is that, in the most soul-penetrating part of the Rosh Hashanah service, we have no words.  Instead, we have the sounds of the shofar, which convey meaning beyond words.  What Leonard Bernstein wrote about music is all the more true about the sounds of the shofar: “Music, because of its . . . far-reaching metaphorical powers, can name the unnamable and communicate the unknowable.”

Tekiyah: solid and unwavering, the initial blast is an alarm, alerting us that we must examine our lives and take stock of ourselves; that time does not stand still; that it is never too late to act; and that life must be renewed continually.

Shevarim: three wailing moans.  This word is related to another Hebrew word, meeshbaer, meaning “crisis.”  No longer the solid, unwavering sound, but a broken mournful cry, full of sadness.  There is sadness in the world, and people are crying out for help all around us.  Whose voices do we hear in this mournful cry?  Who is calling out to us to take action? Are we listening to those voices?   And what about the silences between the shevarim blasts – are those our own silences when we fail to respond to those in need, fail to even say a comforting word, or to say any words of encouragement to those who suffer?

Teruah: nine abruptly disconnected staccato blasts, broken up into little fragments, symbolic of all the broken parts of our lives: our mistakes, disappointments, losses, failures, pains, weaknesses, broken promises, dashed expectations, and shattered dreams. 

When we hear the haunting sounds of the shofar, we must ask: do we merely hear, or do we really listen?  As sons and daughters, do we merely hear, or really listen, when our parents give us advice?  As parents, do we merely hear, or really listen, when our children tell us their troubles or share their joys?  As husbands and wives, do we merely hear, or really listen, when our spouses seek out our understanding and support in difficult times?  As human beings, do we merely hear, or really listen, when strangers – whether in our own community or in far-flung places around the globe – cry out in need?

And do we merely hear, or really listen, to our own utterances, when we gossip, ridicule, make rash statements, or insincere assurances?  And what of our failures to speak, to condemn an injustice, or to say a word of gratitude or kindness.

The final blast is not the fragmented shivarim or teruah, but the sustained, powerful and uplifting tekiyah gedolah.  Aware of the broken sounds in our lives, the shivarims and teruahs of our lives, if we are truly listening, we can make ourselves whole again.  It is within the power of each of us to apply our vital energies to fix the broken pieces of our lives, to put those pieces together for wholeness, by words and acts of encouragement, support, understanding, compassion, comfort, and love that tekiyah gedolah represents.  You can also think of tekiyah gedolah as the sound of all the combined voices of everyone you ever shared a “mazel tov!” with.  And so, the final blast is a sound of wholeness – as whole as the round challah we enjoyed last night; a prayer for a better future; and a message of hope. 

All these shofar blasts are a summons for t’shuvah – which is much more than just repentance.  T’shuvah is a return to our essential being, a re-alignment through a soul-searching process, a reorientation to our best selves.  In what ways are we off-center, out of touch with our own best selves?  How can we acknowledge responsibility, make amends, seek forgiveness, resolve never to repeat wrongs we have committed, and return to the good, turning away from our sinful ways?  The word for sin in Hebrew, chait, means “miss,” as in “miss the target.”  You have unlimited chances to take aim again, again, and again to hit a bulls eye.  You have unlimited chances for atonement – at-one-ment is the source of that word  – unified with your own highest and best self.

Even though this is a time for taking stock, it is not a time for self-degradation.  Think of t’shuvah as an opportunity for life-affirming joy and expansiveness of spirit!

Every day your neshama, the soul that you are, is pure and good, like a holy spark.  No matter what layers of tarnish life’s pains and errors have encrusted on your neshama, your inner goodness shines inside you, ready to guide you – on Rosh Hashanah, and on every other day of the year!  Consider setting aside a time each day for t’shuvah – just before falling asleep, perhaps.  There is no fixed time for t’shuvah, because we can, and should, re-align our souls on a regular basis.

If we really listen, rather than merely hear, the sounds of the shofar, we will understand why the prophet Amos wrote: “When the shofar is sounded in the city, shall the people not tremble?”

As you really listen to the shofar blasts today, think about their meaning to you and, if your soul is truly awakened, think about what changes you will make in your life.

G-dcast

Preparing Your Heart for the High Holy Days: A Guided Journal
by Kerry Olitzky & Rachel Sabbath

"To pave the way for the High Holy Days, which herald repentance and renewal, Jewish tradition encourages 40 days of introspection and self-reflection. Olitzky and Sabath, both Reform rabbis, guide readers through this process of taking moral inventory. They outline 40 steps to repentance, each consisting of a page of reflections drawn from biblical, rabbinic, medieval and contemporary sources."

Beginning Anew: A Woman's Guide to the High Holy Days, edited by Gail Twersky Reimer & Judith Kates

This contemporary anthology features 33 essays by women from a variety of Jewish backgrounds, exploring the biblical passages and liturgical themes for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The approach is modernist-feminist but with a deep, sincere respect for the tradition and what it can teach us today.

Entering the High Holy Days: A Guide to the Origins, Themes, and Prayers, by Reuven Hammer

The High Holy Days-Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur-are for many Jews the highlight of the Jewish year, as well as, perhaps, the occasion of their only visit to their congregation for services. Entering the High Holy Days provides needed historical background and also interprets the ideas, practices, and liturgy that lend contemporary relevance to today's Jews.

A Book of Life: Embracing Judaism As a Spiritual Practice, by Michael Strassfeld

As he explores his thesis that "Judaism is meant to be a spiritual discipline," Strassfeld displays his considerable erudition by providing explanations based on Talmudic and Midrashic texts as well as Hasidic and mystical stories.