Tomorrow my little girl leaves on a new adventure. She is moving to Los Angeles where she will pursue her dream of acting, on stage, on film, on TV, in commercials. In the meantime, she will be teaching Hebrew School. She has taught before. 4 years of Hebrew School while she was in High School. Any number of years as a program aide at Girl Scout camp. Two years at a theatre camp where she taught acting. The time is right for this move. She got a job. She has connections in Los Angeles, as well as her sister, her cousin and her cousin’s son. She is the right age. She is pursuing her dream and doing what she needs to do. She won’t have to sit back and wonder at some future date, “I wonder what would have happened if I went for it!” She will know that she went for it and that we believed in her.

Isn’t that a metaphor for our relationship with G-d? G-d told Abraham to Lech Lecha, to go forth, or perhaps more accurately, go towards yourself. G-d wants us to leave our country, the land of our birth, our parents’ house, to go become our own individuals, to follow our dreams. Our G-d believes we can succeed. Our G-d believes in us. Our G-d will be with us along the way, when we lie down and when we rise up. Our G-d wants each of us to find our way, wherever that may take us.

So Sarah, I hope you find time along the way to read this and to know how very, very proud we are of you. How excited we are for you. Yes, it can be scary. But G-d is with you and I am a phone call or a text message away. (and I’ll still beat you in scrabble!)

In the old days, a rabbi would give a sermon just twice a year. The Shabbat before Passover so he, in those days it was only men, could teach his flock how to prepare for Passover. And then again on the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, so he could tell them how to do teshuvah, return.

These days rabbis tend to do sermons, or d’vrei Torah (words of Torah) or drashes, almost every week. The High Holidays contain 5 lengthy sermons alone. So this morning I turned the tables. I asked my congregation how they do teshuvah, how they return. The discussion was serious and remarkably deep. One person talked about meeting with each person in his family individually and apologizing. “Sometimes this can be painful, learning that I hurt someone and I didn’t even know it.”  Another who spends a lot of time traveling on business, talked about taking the time, really taking the time to think. “No phones, no email, going to shul and letting it wash over me and thinking deeply. About all the baggage I carry around. I unpack each suitcase and examine items one by one, then put them back. I feel lighter.” Sometimes teshuvah is about forgiving oneself. Sometimes that can be even harder. One spoke about the need to not beat up on himself. He makes lots of mistakes, he said, and cannot wait until Yom Kippur to begin the process. I was reminded of the story from the Talmud. You should repent one day before your death. But the rabbis asked, how do you know when you will die? You should repent every day.

Others spoke about the need to first recognize that you have done something wrong before you can do teshuvah. That can be the hardest step. A psychologist talked about the difference between apologizing and making amends. “In 12-Steps programs you don’t apologize. You have to make amends. That is a harder process.” We agreed that maybe hardest of all, after you recognize your own mistake, don’t blame others for it so that you own it as your own, make amends, and promise not to do the bad behavior again, is living up to that promise. How do you make your new behavior a habit so you don’t slip into your old ways? Teshuvah is a challenge but one that makes the High Holidays more meaningful. The conversation was certainly meaningful.

Another part of the holidays is thinking about the legacy that you want to leave. Moses is up on another mountain, overlooking the Promised Land that he will not be allowed to enter after leading his people for 40 years. This week we read his farewell address. This man of slow speech has much to say at the end of his life. I asked what the individuals would say to their own families. Here are some of the comments:

• “Go forth and multiply.” Because we need to guarantee the survival of the Jewish people
• “Go forth and prosper.” From an attorney who is also a cohain, who then amended it to “Live long and prosper.”
• “Be good.”
• “Good luck,” Which led to an interesting discussion of how luck plays into our lives.
• “Choose life,” not as some Christians have co-opted it but as a way to live life fully and meaningful.
• “I love you.”

The Thirteen Attributes give us courage. G-d waits for our return. G-d desires our repentance. G-d is slow to anger and patient. G-d will wait until the very moment of our death for our return. G-d offers lovingkindness to the 1000^th generation. This brings us hope and courage.

However we are cautioned in the Talmud, “For sins between G-d and man Yom Kippur atones but for sins between man and his fellow Yom Kippur does not atone until we make things right.” This is the challenge of the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

How do you do teshuvah? What will your legacy be?

Today is the second day of the New Year. Not as much fanfare perhaps. Usually there are fewer people who show up. But the rabbis have a tradition of still saying Shehechianu on something new. This makes the day special. Some say Shehechianu on a new fruit of the season. Some specifically use a pomegranate for that purpose. I always look for one that has a perfect crown. Those are not so easy to find. Some eat a fruit or some other food they have never, ever tasted and scour the marketplace looking for something special. Some buy a new piece of clothing to wear.

After my serious car accident in 2007, we finally went mountain climbing again in the late summer of 2008. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I took one of Sarah’s best friends, a high school classmate. This friend had made sure that when I wanted to quit on a previous hiking trip, when I sat down and said I couldn’t go any further, finished the hike and then came back to get me. “The views are amazing. You have to finish. You can’t miss the views.” Together, the two of us we finished that hike. I have never forgotten that kindness or that friendship.

I went into this hike with a little more trepidation and fear. How far could I get? What about my sense of balance? What if I have to quit; will it be embarrassing? We made it up to the top of the mountain. All four of us. We enjoyed the views and a snack. Then we headed down. It started to rain. We picked up our pace. That was hard. I find going down always harder than going up. We made the bottom just as the first thunder started. I paused to say Shehechianu. My daughter said, “Mom, I think you should say Shehechianu every day. You are still here.” That’s what Shehechianu says, Praised are You, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe who has kept us alive and sustained us and enabled us to reach this time.”

A long time ago, we went to our friends, Nancy and Alyn, to announce our engagement. We were not quite sure how they would respond. Nancy was digging in her garden. She stood up, gave us both hugs and kisses and commanded Alyn, “Alyn go get the champagne.” I learned from that, and I tell every wedding couple this, to always have a bottle of champagne on ice, to celebrate the big moments, like an engagement or a new job, a raise, a promotion, or the little moments, day by day by day. Like Shehechianu, Sarah thinks after my car crash I might be entitled to champagne every day.

We have a prayer we use every day when we first wake up. A personal kind of Shehechianu. Modah/Modeh Ani Lefanecha, Melech Chai V’kayam. I give thanks before You, Ruler and Sustainer of Life.

How will you say Shehechianu today? What new thing will you do?

“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us be glad and rejoice in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

Today is the birthday of the world, created again anew. Today we experience the gift of the God’s majesty. We see this reflected in our liturgy, in Avinu Malkenu, literally translated as “Our Father, our King.” What does it mean that God is our Ruler? What does it mean that we call God our loving Parent? Does this differ from the 13 Attributes we have been studying? How do we relate to such a God? With fear and trepidation? With longing? Are we seeking God’s approval? How do we make this relationship right?

Today is Rosh Hashanah, the new year, the birthday of the world. You have been working very hard. Spend some time today thinking about your journey. Remember that you are a beloved child of the Divine and that your efforts in preparation are loved by God. You are loved by God. Write a letter to yourself to open at Chanukah with your goals for the coming year. While, similar to American New Year’s resolutions that seem to never be kept, this is more of a covenant between you, yourself and God. Where do you want to be? Perhaps you could include some promises in the spiritual, physical and emotional realms, giving you some balance.

The shofar sounds call to us, awakening us from our slumber, calling us to remember creation and God’s sovereignty.

Prepare. Are we ever really ready? Can we be? Writing this blog has helped me prepare. So has talking with friends and family, reading lots of books, shopping for a new dress, polishing silver, changing the linens from blue to white, singing on the bimah, adjusting the mikes and hiking at Starved Rock. Am I ready? No. It will be what it will be. I hope that it is enough. It will be enough. G-d does not demand perfection, even in preparation. G-d only demands that we try. That we return. That we turn. If you take the first step, G-d will meet you half way.

“Like water, teshuvah is both destructive and creative. It dissolves the person you were but simultaneously provides the moisture you need to grow anew. It erodes the hard edges of your willfulness but also refreshens your spirit. It can turn the tallest barriers of moral blindness into rubble while it also gently nourishes the hidden seeds of hope buried deep in your soul. Teshuvah, like water, has the power both to wash away past sin and to shower you with the blessing of a new future, if only you trust it and allow yourself to be carried along in its current.” Dr. Louis Newman

When we were walking in Starved Rock, we climbed to the highest point, Eagle’s Cliff Overlook. It was beautiful and we felt we were on the top of the world. We then started hiking back. There were sign posts along the way. They were each marked with a single word, “Return”. I took a picture of one at the start of a bridge. I was thinking of Nachman of Bratslav’s words which have become a popular Jewish camp song, Kol ha’olam kulo, gesher tzar me’od. V’ha’ikar, lo lefachda klal” The whole world is a narrow bridge, the central thing is to not be afraid.”

Don’t be afraid. The central thing is to return. G-d is waiting. We don’t have to complete the journey but we have to begin.

When we got back home and I looked at the picture, a rainbow appeared in the picture. I didn’t see it on the trail! It is a reminder that G-d is ever present and will not destroy G-d’s beautiful creation.

We have looked at the 13 Attributes from many perspectives and that study has enriched me immeasurably. When I hear these strains this week I will reflect on what each of you has taught me.

As children, when playing Hide and Seek, the person who was “It” would hide his or her eyes, count to some impossibly high number while the others hid and then call out, “Ready or not here I come!”. In the story of Adam and Eve, after they eat of the apple, perhaps the pommegranite some of us will taste for New Year’s, G-d calls out, “Where are you?,” in some kind of Divine game of hide and seek. Doesn’t G-d know where they are? The answer to that is yes. However, G-d is waiting for their return. Sometimes it seems that we hide from G-d and sometimes it seems as though G-d hides from us. Sometimes we are surprised by G-d, like with the sign saying “Return” and then the hidden rainbow.

So here we go. We have counted to 13. I know I am not quite ready, but “Ready or not here I come!” Ready to seek the One G-d, to seek G-d’s presence, to return to G-d. May this be a sweet year, a fulfilling year, one filled with peace, with sustenance, with health.

Much of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is cerebral; it is all in our heads. However, there are some concrete things that happen, some of which require real physicality. The linens on the bimah are changed from ordinary blue or maroon or whatever to white, symbolizing purity and holiness. The books need to be changed from regular Shabbat and festival ones to machzorim, High Holiday prayer books. The additional chairs need to be set out. We are preparing to welcome lots of guests. We have done all that.

The part I like the most is polishing the silver. For me this is a symbolic act. It links me to generations of women, my mother and grandmothers especially who polished their silver twice a year. Once at Rosh Hashanah and then again at Passover. I feel that instant connection. More than that as I polish every nook and cranny, every crevice, it slows me down long enough for me to think. What do I need to polish in me? What tarnish do I need to remove so that I will shine brightly like the silver? For me, it is about the deep understanding that my mother’s and grandmothers’ love for me was for all time, that G-d’s lovingkindness and compassion extends to the 1000^th generation, that as I polish this silver, maybe my third and the fourth generation will come to understand this fact easier than I have. This is a real changing, a real return, a teshuva. I still have work to do in the deep crevices. There are still apologies to be made. But it is a start.

What tarnish do you need to remove to see the real you? How will you shine brightly during the new year?

Our next guest blogger is Hazzan Marcia Lane, a cantor in New York and New Jersey who just spent several years as Kolbo (rabbi and cantor) in Tennesee. Continuing last night’s theme of about Kol Nidre, she speaks eloquently about the power of music. It is well worth it to click through to the link to hear Shlomo Carlebach’s song.

“It’s that time of year again. The old joke goes that the Yamim Nora’im — the Days of Awe — are always either early or late. They never come on time! Well, this year, as in most years, they feel awfully early to me. It’s not that I am unprepared for the davenning, because the music remains pretty much the same year to year. It’s that I’m unprepared for the climb up the staircase.

The Jewish year is a cycle of holidays that goes around and around in a circle, but each year we are different people by virtue of being one year older. Our goals get clearer or fuzzier. Our resolve to live a particular kind of life is stronger, or we perhaps can’t see our way. Things change. We change. This year’s Rosh Hashannah is not the same as last year’s. This year’s fast on Yom Kippur will be different from last year’s. We do not simply go in circles. The word teshuvah means turning around, or returning to our truest selves.

Rabbi Shlomo Carelbach, z’l, was more famous as a storyteller and a troubador than for sermons. He composed this chant, which seems to embody the process of teshuva.

 Return again. Return again. Return to the land of your soul.
Return to who you are. Return to what you are. Return to where you are
Born and reborn again.
Return again. Return again. Return to the land of your soul.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ahmh8Kt7qM

We aspire to ascend, step by step, through our lives. As the Kaddish for the High Holy Days says, “L’eilah ul’eilah,” higher and higher. For me, the question remains: How, exactly, do I return? And how do I know what would constitute the authentic, best ‘me’?

The music of the holidays is designed to help with that aspiration: it is, on the one hand, built of a series of motifs that are recognizable to every Jew. So the congregational moments are familiar and sing-able for all of us. But there are also moments of choral or cantorial music that strain to lift our thoughts and our prayers toward God.

“Ochilah l’Eyl, achaleh fanav, eshalah mimenu ma’aney lashon.”

I put my hope in God, I seek God’s presence, I ask for the gift of expression.”

These are the words of the cantor’s prayer that comes in the middle of the Musaf Amidah. At that moment the hazzan asks not for blessings of wealth or health or even wisdom. All we ask for is the ability to express the innermost thoughts and fears of the congregation. We pray for the ability to carry the congregation’s hopes higher toward the divine. Step by step, through the Musaf Amidah the hazzan travels upward, not in a direct line, but in a spiral. I’ve sung these notes before, but now I am a different person than I was last year. I’ve prayed these words before, but I am one year older, sadder, wiser, happier. The person I am this year says to You, as I said last year, “Shma koleynu!” Hear the collective voice of Your people who have come before You. Notice that we have changed, hopefully for the better. We have turned and returned to You. S’lach lanu, m’chal lanu, ka-peir lanu. Forgive us. Pardon us. Grant us atonement.

On the Saturday night before Rosh Hashanah, Jews gather to start the formal recitation of Selichot prayers, these very ones we have been talking about.

We know that by Nehemiah’s time a national day of fasting included the 13 Attributes. “Standing in their places, they read from the scroll of the Teaching of the Lord their God for one-fourth day, and for another fourth they confessed and prostrated themselves before the Lord their God.” (Nehemiah 9:3) And continued: “But You, being a forgiving God, gracious and compassionate, long-suffering and abounding in faithfulness, did not abandon them (Nehemiah 9:17).” In the Talmud we learn specifically that the order of the Selichot service contains the 13 Attributes:
“And ‘the Lord passed by before him and proclaimed [etc.]. (Ex. 34:6) R. Johanan said: Were it not written in the text, it would be impossible for us to say such a thing; this verse teaches us that the Holy One, blessed be He, drew his robe round Him like the reader8 of congregation and showed Moses the order of prayer. He said to him: Whenever Israel sins, let them carry out this service before Me, and I will forgive them. ‘The Lord, the Lord’: I am the Eternal before a man sins and the same10 after a man sins and repents. ‘A God merciful and gracious:’ Rab Judah said: A covenant has been made with the thirteen attributes that they will not be turned away empty-handed, as it says, Behold I make a covenant. (Ex. 34)” (Rosh Hashanah 17b)

Traditionally performed at midnight, this is one of my favorite services of the year. This is how I prepare to lead the congregation in the weeks to come. For me this is a pause, a spiritual moment before what has become more of a show. This year was no exception. This year my congregation, Kneseth Israel joined with Rabbi Maralee Gordon and her congregation from McHenry County and we did “Selichot” together.

There is something very powerful about hearing these very words from the 13 Attributes and something very comforting in the idea that G-d taught these very words to Moses and then taught Moses the Selichot prayers while wrapping Himself in his robe (or tallit!)

We started with Havdalah with the lights dimmed in the sanctuary. There is something about Havdalah that always gets me. Perhaps it is the sweet wine, perhaps it is the braided candle, on fire, lighting the whole room, perhaps it is the spices, reminding us that even though Shabbat is ending it will come again.

Perhaps on Selichot, it is all of it, reminding us that even though this is liminal time and may seem bittersweet, the new year is coming and that fills us, fills me with hope. After the lights were turned back on, we began the Selichot service. During which, three times, Kerena Moeller played Kol Nidre on the cello, to get us “in the mood”. The haunting music, especially on the cello brings me to a different place, transports me across the miles to other Selichot services, other Kol Nidre services. It transports me across the generations. It takes me beyond the words. The Kol Nidre words are a legalistic formula in Aramaic. The Kol Nidre music is sublime. We did three writing exercises while listening to Kol Nidre, asking people to write what came up for them. For me the music starts out mournful. Perhaps the music hears or feels our own regrets. Then it slowly builds to something that reminds me of some of the ballets my daughter performed in. Something that makes me think of what the world to come might be like, some kind of heavenly music. I can imagine the angels playing lutes or harps and welcoming me. Telling me that I am loved by G-d. The music washes over me and lifts me higher. I feel like I have begun the process of teshuvah, of returning to a pure state. Then finally I feel like I am forgiven for the wrongs I have done during this past year.

Menachem Mendl of Kotsk felt similarly. He said, after attending a wedding where he heard a young man playing a violin. He called to the violinist and asked him to play Kol Nidre. Hearing its somber, moving tones, Rabbi Menachem Mendel said, “It is possible to be moved to do t’shuvah even by hearing Kol Nidre played on the violin.” Franz Rosenzweig was ready to convert to Christianity, he changed his mind after hearing the strains of Kol Nidre in Berlin while wandering the streets in 1913. He went on to become one of our most important philosophers, writing the Star of Redemption.

Rabbi Daniel Zemel teaches in All these Vows, edited by Lawrence A. Hoffman, “Once a year on Yom Kippur we are told to reckon our accounts. Kol Nidre is the signal that we may do so safely. We may strip ourselves here and confess how hard it all is, as if the words of Kol Nidre were really the case, as if, that is the terrible burden we ill admit to carrying doesn’t count, even though we know that it does. We are being asked to consider our place in the universe as the image of God that God has left behind for all of history to find and know. Kol Nidre creates a safe space for this consideration of the everyday. Where do my allegiances lie? How do I spend my time? Who is important to me? How do I treat the people I love most? How do I treat the people I see least—the garage attendant who brings me my car, the restaurant server, the busboy? What kind of competitor am I? How do I look in the eyes of others? Am I a friend?”

We then performed our own version of a tashlich service. People wrote out things that they had felt they had missed the mark in washable marker. Then they cast them into large bowls of water. After chanting the traditional Ashamnu, the confession of community sins, we listened to Kol Nidre again. This time people made their own alphabetical list, their own heshbon hanefesh, an accounting of the soul. However, instead of beating ourselves up, which we all tend to do, and Ashamnu demands it, literally as we pound our chests for things few of us have done, like become a murderer, we wrote our own lists of the things we like about ourselves. Active, bright, courageous and compassionate, driven, eloquent, empathetic, friendly, fun-loving, generous, gregarious, etc. You get the idea. Now you try it. If you had to defend yourself in front of the heavenly court with the backdrop of Kol Nidre music playing, what would you say about yourself?

We ended the evening with a single shofar blast, a tekiah gedola, waking us up and reminding us that time is growing short for teshuvah. And of course, a few noshes so the congregations could mingle. It was a powerful evening, for me, for my colleague and for our two congregations.

Atem nitzavim kulchem….Today, all of you, all of us stand. Or maybe we sit, if we need to.

What does that mean that we all stand?

All of us have varying abilities. Today we pause to spotlight those people with differing ability, all of whom stood together to hear Moses’ farewell address. The men, the women and children, the stranger in our gate, the wood choppers and water drawers. Everyone.

We are told, “You shall not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling block before the blind.” (Lev 19:14). We know that Jacob limped for the rest of his life after his all night wrestling. We know that Isaac was never the same after his trip up the mountain when he was nearly sacrificed. We know that Moses was a man of slow speech.

Pirke Avot teaches something important when dealing with various kinds of students: “There are four types of student. One who is quick to understand and quick to forget–his flaw cancels his virtue. One who is slow to understand and slow to forget–his virtue cancels his flaw. One who is quick to understand and slow to forget–his is a good portion. One who is slow to understand and quick to forget–his is a bad portion.”

It also teaches that “there are four types among those who attend the study hall. One who goes but does nothing–has gained the rewards of going. One who does [study] but does not go to the study hall–has gained the rewards of doing. One who goes and does, is a chasid, a righteous one. One who neither goes nor does, is wicked.”

Also,” there are four types among those who sit before the sages: the sponge, the funnel, the strainer and the sieve. The sponge absorbs all. The funnel takes in at one end and lets it out the other. The strainer rejects the wine and retains the sediment. The sieve rejects the coarse flour and retains the fine flour.” (Chapter 5, Pirke Avot)

The rabbis knew that there were different learning styles! Now you teachers who are here already know that some of us are visual learners, some are auditory, some are logical, some are physical, some are verbal. Some of us are social and learn better in a group. Some of us learn better as individuals. Some pick things up seemingly instantaneously by osmosis and some have to really wrestle with a text, turn it over and over again and make it our own.

For most of us, the research shows that we can only retain about seven things in our “working memory”. That is why telephone numbers used to only be seven numbers. Before they added area codes and before we all had cell phones with programmed numbers! We also know from research that it takes 10,000 hours of practice in something to really become successful. Whether that is being a professional athlete, a professional dancer, a cellist from the symphony orchestra or just reading Torah.

For me reading Torah is a struggle. It takes practice and hard work. In college, after turning in a paper that eventually won a national award I was diagnosed as dyslexic. There had been a typo on every page. Only I didn’t see them. My professor, being kind, told me to go to the learning center and be tested, retype the paper and he would regrade it and then submit it. Until then I had been called lazy. I would understand math concepts and copy the problem off the board wrong and get the wrong answer. I never could spell well in any language. After I went to the Learning Center and had a real diagnosis, I was able to learn about accommodations—I paid a typist and a proofreader. Touch tone phones and their musical notes helped with telephone numbers. And thank G-d for spell check!

But chanting Torah that goes from right to left, in a different alphabet, has no vowels, and an additional musical notation system that requires reading above and below the consonants, that remained hard! I am one of the lucky ones. I found the right people who could help and ultimately it hasn’t held me back from my access to Judaism or from leading a successful life.

Others are not so lucky. In Andover, half of the students in my religious school had learning plans in their public schools. Several of them had been to other synagogues first. Two families had severely disabled children. One was severely autistic; the other had Downs Syndrome. Both had been turned away from synagogues because the educational director felt that they could not accommodate them. Besides these children would never have a Bar or Bat Mitzvah. Not true. There is a very important movie, Praying with Lior that addresses a child with Downs Syndrome who does go on to have his Bar Mitzvah. It is a touching and poignant movie, one that we should all watch because it teaches us much about the nature of prayer, about a boy’s relationship with G-d, about how he can, in fact, lead his congregation.

My dean, Dr. Ora Horn Prouser wrote a book, Esau’s Blessing, How the Bible Embraces Those with Special Needs. In the process of studying the Bible in depth, she became convinced that many of our Biblical ancestors had some limiting ability. The first one she examines is Esau who she believes had ADHD. Once building her case effectively, Ora goes on to ask the question, “How does it affect our reading to view Esau as having symptoms of ADHD? Clearly we are able to explain Esau’s impulsive behavior, the ease with which he is distracted, and his desire to be active in the out-of-doors. We can imagine that the very characteristics for which he is reviled in later literature may be the result of a neurological condition…we should view the Bible not as a model for proper approaches to ADHD, but as a cautionary tale about the improper approach. It is a reading to sensitize us so that today’s Esaus may be spared  “a very great and bitter cry.”

In her book she goes on to outline similar issues with Isaac and mental retardation, Joseph and giftedness, Moses and speech disorders, Miriam and gender education. Samson and Conduct Disorders, Mephiboshet and Jacob and how to deal with physical disabilities and some Biblical personalities and depression. It is a wonderful book. For families dealing with any of these issues, it gives them role models. They don’t feel so isolated and alone. In her conclusion she focuses on blindness. Two of our patriarchs go blind with old age. She points out that “lack of sight does not mean lack of insight. Blindness, a physical disability, is no indication of mental or spiritual weakness. Thus the commandment to protect the blind is not motivated by pity for the disabled and it is not meant to imply that the blind person is a burden to society. Rather, it prescribes the kindness we are expected to show to those who need extra consideration.”

How do we do that as a congregation? It means we welcome everyone, even those with differing needs, especially those with differing abilities. It means we make the bimah accessible or as we are doing this morning, bringing the mike and the Torah down so that people have access to it. It means that our sound system needs to work and that maybe I need to print copies of sermons in advance so people who have a hard time hearing can hear what I say. It means that we partner with Keshet, an organization that provides programs like the one Ted Frisch enjoys. They will be coming to CKI later this fall to help our parents and our teachers understand learning styles so that we can maximize our ability to help students, kids or adults, of all abilities, not just those we label special needs.  The mission of Keshet is as “the premier provider of educational, recreational, vocational and social programs for individuals with intellectual disabilities operating according to traditional Jewish values.  Our mission is to enhance independence and integration to optimize personal potential.” That’s what we a synagogue for all—to enhance independence and integration. That is what embracing diversity is about.

We are told that we are all created b’tzelm elohim, in the image of G-d. Like today’s parsha, that means all of us, men, women children, the leaders among us and the woodchoppers and waterdrawers, the aged, infirm, those who can learn lots and those who struggle, those who can hear or can see and those who cannot. All of us are a part of G-d’s creation and all of us are worthy of respect. Marian Wright Edelman of the Children’s Defense Fund had it right this week, she said in her back to school, beginning of the new year message:

“You see a lot of teachers judge and stigmatize their students based on where they come from. A lot of my teachers thought that since I was from the South End of Louisville and I grew up in Section 8 housing that I wasn’t capable of doing all the things that I did, and the first time that I really felt like I was someone, it was the first time my fifth grade teacher actually pulled me to the side and said, ‘What can I do for you to help you as a student?’ And I ask my students that now. I pull them to the side and I say, ‘What can I do as an adult to help you?’. . . I feel like every time I talk to someone, I should instill something in them, and I want that in return. And that happens just through treating people with love.” The answer is simple, then, really. It is about treating people with love. That’s it.

Atem nitzavim kulchem. We all stood (or maybe if we needed to sat). Choose life that you may live. Today we choose life and Judaism—for everyone, of all abilities.

Yesterday our guest blogger talked about emet, truth as one of the 13 Attributes. Today’s guest blogger, Risa Cohen, also adds to our understanding. Risa is a member at Congregation Kneseth Israel and works in the insurance industry at the corporate level as a risk manager and IT person. This is what she says:

“My favorite word in Hebrew has always been emet. It is the first. middle and last letter of the alphabet. Truth is  just that, the beginning, the middle and the end of a story, a plot and a life. I am not sure of what truth or for a fact whose truth.  More importantly, in my opinion, our G-d is that thread or attribute that connects the story. I am not sure I am always reading the story correctly, but through my confidence that there must be a story that has meaning for the tragedies and joys in our lives and our ability to handle them, so I am confident that G-d is truth in its purest form, until humans interfere with that truth.”

Risa is correct, G-d is truth. So much so that Emet, Truth, is another name for G-d. I too like the idea that word is spelled with the first, the last and middle letter of the alef bet, this makes Truth, G-d, all encompassing, or as she so eloquently said the thread that connects the story of our lives. A powerful thought.