Blogroll | Congregation Darchei Noam

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Same’ach

I’d like to begin by sharing with you how honoured I feel to be acknowledged by the congregation as its Chatan Torah. I have always looked forward to coming to shul myself in prior years, and listening to the dvar’s of those honorees. What were their spiritual journeys about.

It is extra special for me to share this day with our Kallat Bereshit, Lynda Champagne. Lynda is being recognized both for her long, long commitment as Co-Coordinator of our high holy day services, as well as her many years of leadership as Chair and coordinator of our interfaith out of the cold program. This program holds a special place in our own family’s hearts as Rena has been actively involved herself in Out of the Cold since 1999, when she started with our son Chad as his community project in preparing for his Bar Mitzvah. So Rena has given her blessing to be Chatan, groom, to another Kallat, bride, given they both are devoted to the same cause. Out of the Cold, not me. I’m not yet a cause……but there is still time.

Today is a shehechiyanu moment. Feeling blessed that I have, in fact, made it to this moment in my life, though unexpectedly. Today is a day that begs introspection. I am humbled by the gesture. How did I even get here, and why. Now I will confess I’m not much for introspection. Rena will tell you that I live in a constant state of denial that any event in my life may have had an influence on who I am. I don’t think of it as denial. I consider it deniability. You see if any event of my doing, or my participation, has NOT influenced a subsequent event, then I can’t possibly be responsible. Anyway, it makes perfect sense to me.

My journey doesn’t have a staggering epiphany. In fact, it has fairly boring and typical origins. As in most journeys, my family had the greatest impact. L’dor v’dor. From generation to generation. My parents were both born and raised in Canada, in Quebec. All my grandparents were born in and around the Ukraine. One day Russia, one day Poland, one day dominated by the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but always the Ukraine. I never knew my father’s parents. Neither made it to 50. My bubbie came over after the first World War, and then brought over her parents and siblings.  My zaide left home in the Ukraine in 1912 at age 12, only seeing his mother and brother many years later. And he died when my father was 16, requiring my dad to leave school and help his mother run the family clothing store in their small rural town, St. Eustache. I really don’t have much information on my zaide, but if he as I suspect, was the greater spiritual influence on my father, then I imagine it was profound religiously. My 16-year old father honoured his own father by saying kaddish whenever he could find a minyan, often walking many miles for the opportunity. Some of my earliest memories are of my dad davening every morning. He had a devout piousness. He was extremely involved in the Jewish community of Montreal as I grew up, in the Knights of Pythias, Israel bonds, and most particularly, and not surprisingly, our shul. A fairly contemporary, yet traditional conservative shul named Shaare Zedek. Several Darchei Noam members grew up in that shul. It had mixed gender seating, which was not the norm at that time. But I never knew differently. My dad was active in, and became president of the men’s club - my mother was also president of the sisterhood – neither are Reconstructionist concepts! My dad went on to hold various executive portfolios on the board, ultimately becoming president of the shul.

My mother grew up in the Jewish Montreal neighborhoods of the 20’s, 30’s and 40’s. St. Urbain, Esplanade. Hers was a more urban experience. Her parents arrived with nothing except an infant in 1921. Her father became a fairly successful merchant, her mother a homemaker. They were even able to afford a country house, as we called it. Not fancy, but a second home. I mention this because it was situated just across the river from St. Eustache. And my maternal zaide was yeshiva-educated. Family lore claims he was a rabbi. I have no confirmation, but he did lead the services in this cottage community, where one day he noticed this 16-year old boy attending services and saying kaddish. He invited this young man to Shabbos lunch where he met my then 16-year old mother. And the rest of their story is my family history. My mother, too, has always been involved in the community. Not only at our synagogue where she was very active, including as I mentioned earlier as president of the sisterhood, as well as on numerous committees, but also with the meals on wheels and golden-ager programs.

They modeled “giving back, community service, being socially responsible”. Constant, repetitive themes. And observance and devotion to our Judaism, tradition, shul, Israel, family. These were my family’s pillars, and our lives revolved around them. We went to shul……..walked to shul, every Shabbat………at least until our bar mitzvahs. All the chaggim, and all the erev-chaggims too. Cheder three days a week. There was a day school, but my unproven hypothesis is my parents had four sons and could not afford full tuition for all. Nor could they imagine asking for help. So cheder it was. And I have no regrets. I received a pretty good Jewish education. It reinforced my already strong Jewish identity. I could read, I could daven. The week of my bar mitzvah, including at the Monday and Thursday services, I led the entire torah service. And no triennial parsha reading either. A haftorah, but no dvar torah in those days. Just like no bat mitzvahs. And I haven’t read torah since.

I was heavily involved in USY, United Synagogue Youth. I was president of our shul’s chapter, and then president of the Montreal-region of USY. After high school, in college, I became a USY advisor, first at my shul, and then at the Beth El in Montreal. I was member of Hillel. I went to Jewish overnight camps, and then became a camp counsellor. It was my milieu. You get the drift.

Like many others of my generation, I marched in protests to free soviet Jews. Demonstrated outside the Soviet Union consulate in Montreal, and the embassy in Ottawa. I walked with and for Israel. I was and continue to be, a proud diaspora Jew. Living as a Jew is what defines me.

But with all that, my spiritual self was never really fulfilled. My childhood shul was OK, and I really liked the clergy, but I was never passionate about their services. It was davening by rote. No real ruach or spirit. When I moved to Toronto 38 years ago, I didn’t gravitate to any particular synagogue, even though I was good friends with the son of the rabbi of Beth Tzedek. But it wasn’t for me. After Rena and I became a couple, we tried high holy day services at Associated Hebrew Schools on Finch – how ironic! – then York University, then Beth Emeth. Again, all were OK, but not kishka-stirring. We got married at my parent’s shul in Montreal because we weren’t connected to anything here in Toronto.

After my father passed away in 1984, more shul-shopping. I said kaddish daily in a variety of synagogues. The original BAYT – too frum. Pride of Israel – not my cup of tea. Then about 27 years ago our good friends, Liane and Howell, perhaps you’ve heard of them, invited us to try a synagogue they found appealing: Darchei Noam. I don’t remember what was first: a Shabbat service in a classroom on Hove, or the Yamim Noraim at the Greek community centre on Bayview with Rabbi Deborah Brin. We were intrigued. It was hamish. The nusach was familiar. We liked this egalitarian stuff. Rena could participate with me. I could even relate to the rabbi’s sermons. And they were interactive, not preachy. We attended for a while, and then moved to Boston for a couple of years. When we returned in 1990, we joined, and made many new friends and acquaintances. Congregants made us feel welcome.

Our attendance was somewhat regular, and our participation grew. Rena joined the Family Programming Committee. I honestly don’t remember what I did, but we felt at home with the whole experience. I could let my inner singing voice, usually out of tune, out. I LOVE the spirit we share in our community singing. Simchat Torah, and the unrolling of the Torah, became an annual highlight. An irony of this week.

Then, in early 1992, came a fateful day. Phyllis Greenberg, whose daughter babysat for us occasionally, and Shirley Segev, a past president, called me out of the blue as part of their nominations process. How would I like to get more involved? I have a finance background, would I consider taking on the role of Treasurer? What would be involved I asked. A few meetings every couple of months. Nothing more. And you both said it with such honest conviction. Kol Hakavod!

What began as a brief commitment then, has only strengthened over the decades. For us, our connection to this community has evolved with the relationships we’ve forged. People we really care about. No airs. It’s comfortable. It’s home. Practice your Judaism your way. I identify more as traditional than traditional Reconstructionist. I’m not out of place. There’s even a small group of golf buddies that get together; it’s fun, not serious, and we enjoy each other’s company.

I may not read torah here, but under the tutelage of Michael Mitchell, and together with our little study group, I learned to be a shaliach tzibur for weekday shacharit, and ma’ariv services, mostly at shiva homes. Another personal achievement that could only happen through Darchei Noam and the efforts of volunteers.

As I mused over this dvar, and what kind of tone it might assume, I wrote down lots of thoughts in no particular order. I was soon moved to change themes. On Rosh Hashanah, the Rabbi spoke about gratitude, and it really resonated with me. Of course I am grateful to my parents for the values they instilled in my brothers and myself; for the examples they set regarding the importance of community and community service. And I will be forever grateful to my family, to Rena, and my children Erin, and Chad & Katie, for allowing me the time to pursue these experiences. “Allow” may be understated. Tolerate is likely more apt. But my everlasting gratitude? Well that is to Darchei Noam.

To this shul, and this community, I will be forever grateful for allowing me the opportunity of discovering I can make a difference. Many members are more knowledgeable in Torah, or have commanding presences as leaders. I’m good with numbers. It’s my skill, it’s what I do. Budgets, cash flows. Helping the office with efficiencies. That’s where my professional experience lies. It seems to me that others really do the heavy lifting in running a shul. For me this was second nature. I realize my portfolios were important, but to see the shul grow……and grow up, and flourish, and to know that I played a part in its success, gave me more satisfaction………instilled more pride…….like a parent watching their child graduate and become independent. It changed me as a person. It gave me a sense of self-worth I may never otherwise have known. It directly paved the way for my career in the not-for-profit sector, and at Associated Hebrew Schools, in the Jewish community. So, thank you Darchei Noam, for making such a difference in MY life.

Since this is after all a dvar, I would like to segway into a little teaching based on this week’s parsha for Chol Hamoed Sukkot.

Part of the parsha refers to specific practices of festivals, sacrifices and the laws of kashrut. Another element of the narrative tells us that Moses asks G-d who will help him lead the Israelites. In the case of the parsha, the response is G-d, though Moses must turn his back and not view him. Now, I’m not suggesting in any way that my role compares to G-d. The parallel is that I have served this shul on numerous committees, and on the Executive under three presidents: Gerry Silver, Michael Mitchell, and Myer Siemiatycki. They all had something in common: they were inspiring leaders, with a vision and a purpose. Impossible to say “no” to lead together with them.  Somehow Michael even talked me into a fourth year. I couldn’t let them down. This community has a history, and a present, of inspirational leadership. How lucky are we?

And I’ll conclude with two final reflections. Rena and I remain committed to this community because of the professional leadership of our rabbi, Tina Grimberg. I have known many rabbi’s in my life; I work with many rabbi’s. Tina gives us so much, with such insight, grace and humour. And Poetry. She weaves a drash, sharing her thoughts, some moral reflections, draws us in unsuspectingly, and when you are least prepared, moves you. That’s what keeps me coming back for more. And if you need to talk some personal issue through, she is always there. Thank you Rabbi.

Every time I enter this magnificent sanctuary, a feeling as sweet as apples and honey on Rosh Hashanah comes over me, tinged with a little sadness. I recall the Kol Nidre more than ten years ago, just before services on Hove St., when Barry Spiegel, zichrono livracha, our then secretary of the Board, and a golf buddy, and I, then treasurer, signed the amended purchase and sale agreement for this building, witnessed by Evy Brown, zichronah livracha. How proud we were to be part of the process that resulted in this beautiful new home for us all. I will always think of them when I’m in this space.

Thank you to my love, Rena for placating me with the richest of experiences, for encouraging me to return to the shul when the call came, and for managing our home and family when I was out at some meeting. What a blessed life we share. And now we’re preparing to celebrate the birth of our first grandchild with Katie and Chad! And thank you again Darchei Noam for this honour. The pleasure has been all mine, believe me.       Shabbat Shalom!