When Sarah was in kindergarten, my father gave her a present. It was a beautifully wrapped box. Inside the box was another beautifully wrapped box. Inside that box was another box and inside that box was a Ziploc bag, full of refrigerator magnets, all the abcs and the aleph bets and a note. “Herein lies all the wisdom of Judaism and the American and British literature. Your job is to recombine them, to find meaning and find joy.”

We still have that bag of magnets and we talk frequently about how to combine them to find meaning. My refrigerator might say, “Do the right thing” or “Be a mensch.” It might say, “Find Joy.”

I stand before you tonight with a full heart. It was a long dream of mine, as you heard, to become a rabbi, a pulpit rabbi. It is this congregation that has welcomed me with open arms.

Joy is something that is important to me. It is, after all, my middle name, both in English and Hebrew. Sometimes, however, it feels elusive. Tonight is one of those nights. We mark with sadness the recent death of Don Lesser. Every simcha has its sadness. That is part of why we smash a glass during a wedding.

How does one find joy, especially in the midst of sadness? Like the refrigerator magnets, this is a puzzle. Sometimes the Bible helps solve the puzzle. Or zarua latzadik ulyishrei lev simcha. Light is sown for the righteous and joy for the upright in heart. This verse itself is a puzzle. Once we crack it, we have a clue to finding joy. The Chassidic rabbis taught that simcha, joy, carries with it a sense of passion. That a straightened heart, an upright heart is one filled with joy and passion. Davenning in Israel, alone in my hotel room in Tel Aviv, a light bulb went off. Joy follows light, after we act righteously. It comes when we find our passion, share it unstintingly and use it to make the world a better place. Then light is sown and we experience joy.

For me, joy comes from being a rabbi. There is a deep sense of calling, as Frederick Buechner said, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” After years in international business, walking out of IBM’s corporate headquarters having made a big sale, I thought there must be something more. I felt I could make the biggest difference in the rabbinate. That is how I could make the world a better place. What I discovered is that while social action is important, being a rabbi is also about meeting people where they are.

What does it mean to be a rabbi? It is a covenantal relationship, based on trust and mutual understanding. It is a partnership between the rabbi and the congregation to define a vision, to build community and to find meaning in our ancient tradition and thus enrich our lives.

Way back in August, my first week in Elgin, I talked about this relationship. “A covenant is like a contract, legally binding. If you do X then I will do Y. The nitty gritty of that is in the formal contract, but there is more to a rabbi’s contract than the financial terms and job descriptions.
So here is my proposed covenant with Congregation Kneseth Israel.

If
I promise:

To be patient and compassionate.
To be slow to anger.

To approach the task of being a rabbi with joy and enthusiasm.

To laugh at my mistakes and have a sense of humor

To be present.
To listen attentively

To guide you and meet people where they are

I promise to make halachic decisions carefully and thoughtfully with the knowledge and understanding of 5000 years of tradition

I promise to continue to learn

I promise to create, together with you a place where people feel welcomed, a safe non-judgmental space where people can explore their Judaism in all of its myriad facets

I promise to be visible to the Elgin community and to promote Congregation Kneseth Israel, to be a good role model for our kids

I promise to teach and to learn, to preach and lead discussions that are meaningful and enable us all to grown.

I promise to do Tikkun Olam, gathering the sparks together, in myself, with our community and the wider world so that the world will be a better place.

What I want from you is similar

To listen openly, attentively and honestly

To laugh at my mistakes and help me correct them
To be patient, especially as I and my family settle in, again!
To create community where people feel welcomed, cared for and loved in a safe, non-judgmental space.

To become life long learners

To create meaningful observance, rituals and celebrations

To be willing to share deeply from yourselves to enrich all of us emotionally, spiritually and physically.

Nine months later, this is still what I think the terms of the covenant to be. And I would add, to be kind to one another. Being Jewish is hard work. The word Israel means G-dwrestler. For some of these deep questions there are no right or wrong answers. As we wrestle together, be kind. That is how we create holy space.

Then we will have created a partnership, a covenant, like G-d and the people of Israel. Then together we will find joy. When I was here for the demo weekend a little over a year ago, I did something I didn’t do anywhere else. We were coached not to get too attached anywhere we went, after all, we might not get the job. I know. I was a bridesmaid six times, never the bride. But here I felt comfortable. So I broke my own rules. I bought something from the Sisterhood gift shop. There were these kippot from Guatemala. How often do you see Judaica from Guatemala? You see I have a son-in-law from Guatemala and in my last congregation an entire family from Guatemala converted to Judaism because it was meaningful to them. I knew from that kippah that you were living out your vision that I share with you of embracing diversity. I bought three kippot and a necklace from Wanda. They are a comfortable fit and I wear them proudly tonight.

When I went back to Boston recently, I managed to sneak up to Ogunquit, a little town on the coast that I love. In Ogunquit there is a certain flat rock, right on the waters edge. It seems each of the major life decisions have been made on that rock—whether to get married, have a child, to go to rabbinical school, which rabbinical school, how to finish school, which job to take, even whether to move to Elgin. This time there were no major decisions to make. But sitting on that rock.

I know that it was the right decision to come to Elgin, for me, for my rabbinate, for my family. Last night I had a quiet moment to myself. In a parking lot of a restaurant I went back to my car. There, between the raindrops was a rainbow. Glorious in the late afternoon sun. For me, it was an affirmation of what I already knew from sitting on the rock in Oqunquit. This is the right place.

People’s lives are complex. Everyone experiences joy and pain. That is part of what makes us human. How we respond to that suffering is what makes us G-dlike. If despite the obstacles we can live our lives with passion, play out our dreams, then we find joy, at the break of day as light is sown. But not in a vacuum. Only if we act justly and righteously.

So my message to you is simple. Take your own refrigerator magnets. Recombine them. Find your passion, follow your dreams and make the world a better place. In doing so, find joy.