Tags
antisemitism, God, hatred, Judaism, kindness, prayer, synagogue, Yom Kippur
The day before Yom Kippur, the synagogue I attend received a threatening phone call.
The caller said he knew our building—and that he planned to kill everyone inside.
What do you do with that?
Cancel Yom Kippur? Warn the congregants? Sound the alarm to every Jewish organization in the phone book?
The rabbi and president kept their cool. They called the police, and because someone had alerted the media, they spent the rest of the day fielding calls from CNN, Fox News, and every news outlet you can imagine.
The police quickly determined it was a robo-call, not a credible threat. Even so, out of caution, they sent extra officers to guard our services.
And still, congregants streamed in. Undeterred.
Watching the sanctuary fill, I realized that the best antidote to fear is community.
We needed each other. We needed to pray together. We needed to be together.
We understood—as Jews always have—that there is always the possibility of evil.
But we also know, with absolute certainty, that we will continue to gather.
My friend Rabbi David Aladjem recently sent an email to other clergy titled, “No one should be alone.” He was speaking of Yom Kippur—the holiest day of the Jewish year—urging us to make sure every Jew had access to the day’s spiritual power through communal prayer.
At the start of this new year, I think his message deserves to be amplified and expanded.
Because being part of a community isn’t only for sacred days.
It’s just as important on ordinary ones—
on the days when the sky is clear, the breeze is gentle, people are kind, and the world feels like a wonderful place—
and on the days when the wind blows dust in your eyes, tempers flare, and everything feels perfectly awful.
We humans are social beings. The Torah says it plainly from the very beginning:
“It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a help to match him.” (Genesis 2:18)
We need community.
We need each other.
Throughout the ten Days of Awe, I was reminded of two simple, enduring truths:
The world is a better place when we reach out to one another. And small acts of kindness matter in big ways.
So simple. And so important.
The congregation will continue to gather.
The police will continue to watch over us.
And we will continue to invest our energies in one another, and in the quiet power of kindness.

Now more than ever: here at home, eretz Israel and the world.
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As you know, there really was a fatal attack on a synagogue here in the UK, in Manchester. We grieve with the Jewish community there, and continue to pray against antisemitism and all forms of religious hatred.
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The confession is in plural, not singular. We are judged as a community as much as we are judged as individuals. Be well!!
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