The holiday of Pesach is
known by many names. It is known as the festival of spring, the festival
of matza and the festival of freedom. But at its core, Passover is all about
freedom. And our exodus from Egypt has long been the paradigm of the human
longing for liberation.
And yet, the moment of exodus
didn't result in an immediate panacea for our people. There were still plenty
of troubles and obstacles that lay ahead. Sometimes the Israelites wished they
could go back to the certitude of Egyptian bondage. Slavery in Egypt may have
been awful, but at least it was predictable. You knew where your next meal was
coming from. So what Passover actually kicked off was not instant salvation,
but the beginning of a long, exciting, and sometimes arduous journey.
And that is life in a
nutshell. As it has been said, life is more about the journey than the
destination.
It is hard to believe
that over 30 years have passed since I left the Jewish Theological Seminary in
New York, and came here as a very young rabbi, along with 2 young children and
a brand-new baby in tow. I remember being a bit culture-shocked upon my exodus
from New York and our arrival to the “deep south”, where congregants sometimes
recited their Hebrew prayers with a decidedly southern drawl. I also
remember glancing at the license plate on the rear of my car and thinking to
myself “what in the world is a nice Jewish boy doing in fakatka
Georgia?!”
Now, 30 years later I
can look back and marvel how we have grown up together and created a synagogue
that we all ought to be very proud of today.
“Together” is the
operative word. As one person, I could never have made our Beth Shalom into the
synagogue that we kvell about and call home today. A rabbi’s efforts
must be shared by many others who are willing to roll up their sleeves and
labor along his/her side in order for those results to take shape. And this is
what has made our shul such a truly special place. We continue to be blessed
with dedicated leadership, creative staff and a warm and caring congregation
that is filled with ruach and simply feels like family.
Jews have always looked
upon themselves as family, albeit sometimes a dysfunctional one. But it is
because we have always cared about each other as family that we established a
network of synagogues, hospitals, organizations, and even helped to build a
State of Israel in the 20th century.
After the Holocaust, the
Jewish world was confronted with the challenge: “to be or not to be”. And what
we became is absolutely incredible! And it’s all because we see each other as
family. A Christian in America doesn’t feel the same connection to an
oppressed Christian in Egypt as a Jew feels for our people scattered around the
globe. Judaism is a religion, a nation, a people... and a family!
There is a wonderful
Hassidic story about Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov who would pray for many hours
every day.
His disciples had long
finished their own prayers, but out of respect for their master they would form
a circle around him to listen to the sweet melody of his prayers and behold the
spectacle of his soul soaring up to heaven. And it was an unspoken rule amongst
the Hasidim that no one would leave until their rabbi had concluded his
prayers.
One day his disciples
were particularly tired and hungry as the rabbi went on with his davening. They
reasoned to themselves that since the rabbi still had much davening left to go,
they would slip out for a few moments for a bite and to make a “l’chayim”
together. Based on past experience, they were sure that they could return in
plenty of time, and that the Baal Shem Tov would not even notice their absence.
But to their great surprise, as soon as they returned, they found that
their rabbi had already finished his prayers and left.
Later they asked, “Tell
us, Rebbe, why did you conclude your prayers so early today?”
The Baal Shem Tov told
them that to answer their question, he would have to tell them a story:
Once, a group of people
were journeying through a forest. Their leader, who had very keen eyesight,
spotted a beautiful bird perched atop a tall tree.
“Come,” he said to his friends, “I would like
to capture this beautiful bird. Let us form a human ladder so that we might
capture the bird and enjoy looking upon its beautiful plumage”. And so they
did. Together, they formed a chain reaching toward the sky, to bring their
leader up to reach the beautiful bird. But eventually they became tired and
went off to eat and rest, and the man at the top of the ladder came tumbling
down to the ground.
“So”, said the Baal Shem
Tov, “when I am davening you become the ladder that allows my soul to soar to
the heavenly heights. I do not merit having my own personal ladder. So
once you had left me I instinctively felt your absence. I quickly davened the
required prayers and went back home.”
Our wonderful
congregation with its unique blend of caring, talented and dedicated members
has been that “ladder” for me over the course of these past 30 years. For that,
I feel truly blessed to have found my spiritual home among all of you here at
CBS, and to have had the privilege of serving as its rabbi for over three
decades now.
God-willing, I hope we
will be worthy of sharing many more meaningful and productive years together in
the future!
L’Shalom,
Rabbi Mark Zimmerman
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