Sinai Stories

As a child, I was fortunate to experience a large family Seder. However, it was a very different Seder from the happy festive event that Temple Sinai offers the community on its Second Seder. My grandparents were Orthodox but lived in the countryside in England about an hour from London in a large rambling Victorian house that my grandparents had lived in too. The house, while rambling, was not grand, although Passover was a grand affair.  My great aunt lived across the road and my two aunts and their husbands and cousins filled the two houses for the week, although as my cousins and siblings got older and were working, they often took the train down from London for the 1^st night.  In the UK, Jews at that time and even now only celebrate one night of Passover.  So we were about twenty people around the one table, with an add on. The table was spread with a white damask table cloth and lit with large silver candlesticks. The seats of twelve or more dining chairs were embroidered with needlepoint flowered designs sewn by both my grandparents, probably on long winter evenings. I look back on it with pleasure but I confess as a small child it was a bit boring as my grandfather read the whole Haggadah in Hebrew., and there was no English in the Haggadah.  Being the youngest grandchild, I said (not chanted) the Marnish Tanah thirteen years before the next generation appeared.  We did have communal singing at the end after dinner, with some of the same melodies we sing now, but the memory is that it was very out of tune!

Apart from the fun of having a house full of relatives, the highlight was the meal. My grandmother was Sephardic and taught me to make Charoseth in that style (included herein), which I make for the Seder plates for the Temple Sinai Second Seder. (The caterer makes the rest hopefully with my recipe)  Many of the desserts of my early Seders, especially when set out on the brilliant white table cloth, looked like a picture by Wayne Theibaud: bowls of chocolate, coffee, lemon and blackberry mousse, meringues filled with cream, almond cake and fruit salad. There was no soup. The main course was cold fried fish (well loved in UK Jewish life, but not in the USA) with a large smoked whole smoked salmon, sent by my great aunt from Scotland) which my grandfather carved from the head of the table. There was salad, mashed potato and of course matzo to accompany the meal.  My grandfather grew the horseradish in the garden as it would have been unavailable to buy in rural Sussex. Bowler hats were worn by all the men. My brother, the only boy grandchild, wore his school cap.  The next morning at 11 am, we would all gather again to read the morning service.  During the week, I remember plates of matzah for breakfast with thick Canadian honey or marmalade and delightful afternoon teas with special Rakusan’s tea matsahs ,which were round and spread lightly with butter, coconut pyramids, yummy cinnamon almond balls and the sight of my grandmother serving earl grey tea out of a silver teapot in the shape of a pumpkin, which I now have and very occasionally use.

After my grandfather died when I was seventeen, the house was sold and due to geographical distance, our family Seders became slightly smaller but still carried out in the same style and spirit.

When I arrived in Chicago with my husband in 1979, Seders took on a new light:  we were invited to a business colleague of my husband’s the first year.  The table was set beautifully for about eight people, Haggadot at each place.  When all the guests had arrived we sat down. The host opened his Haggaddah, looked at the first page, then promptly shut it loudly and announced “Same as last year, let’s have dinner”.  It was very memorable event but I was surprised.

We joined Temple Sinai in 1986 and held family Seders at home with friends for many years as we continue to do, but around 2002 I was asked to organize the Community Second Seder for TSWRJ and the Temple.  It has been an enjoyable experience doing this with wonderful volunteers and it has provided me with yet another evolutionary phase from the large family Seders that I look back on with much affection.  I hope the individuals and families who attend the Temple Sinai Second Seder embrace the warmth and happiness that the clergy, Temple Sinai kitchen staff and the caterer provide as we celebrate the biblical freedom of the Jews, especially in these troubling times worldwide.

 – Celia Josephs

Charoseth (Celia Josephs’ Family Recipe from Florrie Lucas, nee Montefiore)

The Temple Sinai Library strives to be a welcoming space for Jewish learning, study, culture, and respite for the congregation, clergy, staff and members. As the Temple Sinai librarian, I have been challenged by how best to support and lift up the many authors in our congregation. It is relatively easy if a member writes a book with Jewish content, they will often donate a copy for inclusion in the library, but it has been harder to figure out what to do with books that have nothing to do with Judaism. For a while, we had a special section for these books, but it was a mishmash of different topics and the books went largely unnoticed.

In 2023, we decided to address this need by hosting a forum for temple authors to give a book talk, sign, and sell their books, and to connect with other authors in the congregation. The Authors’ Showcase ran concurrently with the Women of Reform Judaism’s long-standing Chanukah Mart. Nine Temple Sinai Authors signed on:  Michael Dine, Leon Fink, Deborah Kalb, Sue Levine, Gail Rebhan, Ellen Sazzman, Susan Rubin Suleiman, Julie Segal Walters, and Kuri Yasuno. We were thrilled with how it turned out and will be continuing to host this opportunity to spotlight the literary talent in our own congregation.

Below, three of the authors from our first Authors’ Showcase share a few thoughts about their experience.

– Ruth Polk, Temple Sinai Librarian

It was very gratifying to speak alongside such a distinguished group of authors and to an audience which was so appreciative of writing on a broad range of topics. It is wonderful to be part of this community.

– Michael Dine, author of This Way to the Universe: A Journey into Physics (February 2022) and other books

As someone who’s spent her entire life going to Temple Sinai, it’s wonderful to find a whole new way to connect with the community–and I found it at the Authors’ Showcase last November! I knew some of my fellow participants already, but was glad to meet the other authors and talk about writing and the often bewildering world of book publicity. And it was a real treat to talk about my books with congregants attending the Chanukah Mart–including a reunion with someone I had worked with two decades ago! Thanks so much to librarian Ruth Polk for organizing such a lovely event.

– Deborah Kalb, author of Off to Join the Circus (July 2023) and other books

I’m a relatively new member of Temple Sinai, having moved to the DC area a few years ago to be near my son Daniel and his family, who are longstanding members. (All four of my grandkids are proud graduates of Temple Sinai Nursery School and the oldest just started her first year of college!).

I confess I don’t often attend services, even though my father was trained as an Orthodox rabbi.  But I do love books and you might even say I have a professional love of books, since I spent more than 40 years as a professor of literature.  I’ve even written some books myself.

That’s why the group I feel most at home with at the temple is the Library Committee, and why I so much enjoyed sitting at the entrance to the Chanukah Mart last year with other TS authors, all of us behind a stack of books we were eager to sign for anyone who asked!  It was lovely when people stopped to chat, even if they didn’t buy our books.  I was signing my memoir, Daughter of History, which starts with my childhood in Hungary.  Lo and behold, one woman stopped to tell me about her brother-in-law, who is Hungarian!

Books connect people.  I love that.

– Susan Suleiman, author of Daughter of History: Traces of an Immigrant Girlhood (May 2023) and other books

One of my favorite childhood memories is my dad taking my brother and me for winter hikes in Mill Creek Park, near where we lived in Youngstown, Ohio. Sometimes my dad would pack hotdogs and buns in a backpack, and we would stop next to the stream we hiked along, and he would build a little fire, and we would sit on rocks and roast hotdogs on sticks. I think he also packed hot chocolate in a thermos. With a little snow on the ground, the park was beautiful and peaceful and cozy.

Over a year ago I went on one of the early hikes organized by TSWRJ. I was walking at the head of the pack with Helene Sacks, who I didn’t know but enjoyed chatting with. At some point, either that day or shortly thereafter, Helene asked me if I would be interested in leading monthly hikes. I said yes.

I was not familiar with the paths in Rock Creek Park so I purchased the best map I could find from the Nature Center store and in the early months I tried to find different paths to walk every month. All of the hikes went well enough except one. One month I made the mistake of taking hikers on a path that was very difficult and much longer than I had anticipated. Everyone was very polite about it, but I felt terrible and some ladies understandably never returned. After that I made a point of hiking every new path myself alone before I introduced it to the group.

At some point I had exhausted all the paths from the Nature Center and formed opinions about which paths were more interesting, harder, or easier, than others.  I had also learned my audience, so to speak—their pace, how far and how much time they want to spend. I found one hiking loop that is a little less than three miles, and takes the group about 1-1/2 hours, no more than 1-3/4 hours, including rest stops. The entire path is wide and not difficult, it goes down and along the creek, and there is only one steep incline, on the way back. At some point I decided this is an almost perfect hike from the Nature Center for our group, and the group agreed it was great and there was no need to switch things up. Walking the same path once a month helps you notice all the changes in the trees and fauna from the month before. Once in a while someone spots something remarkable—a Blue Heron in the creek, or a wasp’s nest the size of gallon jug of milk.

We meet every month at the same place because I want to make it very easy for people to attend. If you come regularly you know where to go and how long it will take to get there so you’re not late. You learn what to wear and if you really need water and poles (most don’t). We’re always back at our cars by 10:45. At some point I may do a special hike at a different location, but I haven’t found anything as lovely as the hike we already do.

I think my goal for the hiking group is to have this time every month simply to connect with nature and make friends. I’ve made a lot of friends.

– Liz Brenner

As a long-time Temple Sinai member, I never gave much thought to the pews in the Sanctuary until I became the head of the Ritual Committee almost 20 years ago. The Ritual Committee at that time had a varied and wide-reaching jurisdiction, ranging from planning the Friday night chicken dinners, to the time of Friday night services (it will surprise many readers to discover that the majority of Friday night services in those years started at 8 p.m. and included a Torah service), to whether the clergy should perform interfaith marriages. But one of the more entertaining aspects of the job was to receive complaints from congregants about the High Holy Day services (who didn’t like which sermon from which rabbi or who didn’t like which melody that the cantor chose). Nonetheless, the number one complaint every year was how uncomfortable the pews were.

That complaint led me to explore replacing the pews with chairs. I researched chair companies and obtained some quotes, but in the end the money for this project was not budgeted, and so I abandoned the project although I remained committed to it. I told every successive Board president that I remained willing and eager to tackle the removal of the pews whenever the time was right.

Finally, the time was right. Gary Friend asked me to meet him in the Library one Sunday morning a few years back, told me of the Capital Campaign and the plan to renovate the Sanctuary, and asked me to gather information and cost estimates for the Board for replacing the pews with chairs. I became the Chair of the ad hoc Chair Committee with Tom Plotz, Deborah Scheck, Meredith Margolis and Kevin Mulshine. We interviewed chair salesmen, obtained and tried out many chair samples, debating and evaluating comfort, stackability and book racks.

The end result was all new chairs in the Sanctuary and Bet Am and new choir chairs. To my knowledge, the chairs have been universally well-received, and the complaints about being uncomfortable (physically) during services have ended.

– Lafe Solomon

As we sat enjoying our end of year pot-luck dinner on the porch of Lafe Solomon’s and Cam Crockett’s house on May 2, members of Kitah Dalet, aka The Daletniks, were trying to remember when we came together as a group of adult Hebrew learners. The best we could estimate was a little over 20 years ago when we met in the library on Thursday evenings. We were considered the “advanced” (picture air quotes) class among those offered by the temple at the time. We were blessed with Leesa Fine (z”l) as a teacher and happily trudged at least twice through The First Hebrew Primer, 3rd Edition learning enough grammar – that meant a myriad of verb tenses – and vocabulary to try to translate prayers from Mishkan Tefillah and then on to sections of the Tanakh. We translate verses for homework  by consulting several dictionaries.  As a group, we have different favorites, but we all found Genesis, B’reishit, rewarding and Ecclesiastes, Kohelet, baffling.

Before Kitah Dalet, most of us were in other Hebrew classes, some following our adult B’nei Mitzvah, wanting to continue our momentum. Some of us had attended years of Hebrew school as kids, others were fast learners without that benefit.  There has been turnover. A couple of years ago, we welcomed a new member who took Hebrew classes at college, lowering our mean age.  We now meet on Zoom for class, no longer officially a temple program, with Rabbi Marc Gruber as our teacher. In addition to Kitah Dalet, another adult Hebrew class meets on Zoom, Sunday afternoons, also translating and discussing texts. Originally known as Kitah Gimel, it is now Naan. Both classes would be happy to add new members.

At dinner, we expressed puzzlement as to why more folks at the temple have not wanted to pursue adult Hebrew to get a better feel for what we read in services. Language study is good for the brain, and learning Hebrew with friends is good for the soul.

– Ginny Levin 

When we were in our twenties in DC, we didn’t really have a Jewish home here.

We would “shul-shop,” checking out a rotating series of High Holiday services at various temples, synagogues, and sometimes at GW Hillel, and sometimes hosting or joining friends for Shabbats and Seders.  We got married and right around that time our friends Laura and Kevin brought us to an uplifting Labor on the Bimah service at Temple Sinai, which had this cool energy fusing social justice considerations with a Jewish framework.

Our daughter Sarah was born in 2011.  Having kids changed things.  We started thinking more about a place to belong on a less transient basis.  But life was hectic and we were very sleep-deprived so we didn’t do much about it.

Then our son Eli was born in 2014.  Now we were really sleep-deprived, and we moved to a house not very far from Temple Sinai.  Sarah had started pre-K, but we found out about Temple Sinai’s play-based Nursery School and signed Eli up.

The Nursery School was a game-changer for Eli.  He arrived as a toddler who had trouble separating from his parents/childcare and left two years later ready to dive with gusto and confidence into elementary school. He is 9 now and still has friends from that experience.

We joined Temple Sinai as members. We kept meeting more and more people at Temple Sinai that we liked, and got to know the clergy and appreciate them both as terrific clergy members and as wonderful, wise, and funny humans who, over time, we have become fortunate to call friends.

Sarah, and then Eli, started study in the Religious School.  And we got to know more families.  And after a while, it felt like every time we went to the temple, someone, or some days everyone, knew us or our kids and our names (cue the “Cheers” theme song …).  Not too big, not too insular.  Hugs and high-fives abounded.  Jewish joy too.  Some Jewish learning as well, and important institutional learning and emphasis on intentional grappling with both racial justice generally and being a multi-racial temple.

When Ariel’s father passed away during the pandemic, the temple sprung into action with support.  Rabbi Jonathan Roos reached out immediately with private advice and support and, on almost no notice, led our family and friends in an incredibly moving shiva service.

A few weeks ago, we celebrated Sarah’s bat mitzvah at Temple Sinai (family pic of us all looking at the camera for once is shared here!).  One of the many meaningful things about the day was our daughter getting to experience this Jewish rite of passage under the tutelage and leadership of two powerhouse, kind, and joyous, women clergy members – Rabbi Hannah Goldstein and Cantor Rachel Rhodes.

We’re always happy to chat with families considering getting involved.  Temple Sinai is a special place.

– Ariel and Rachel Levinson-Waldman 

This is the 30th anniversary of Temple Sinai’s first B’not Mitzvah class. Rabbi Mindy Portnoy was our teacher. Eleven people participated in the ceremony on November 13, 1993. All five of the “alums” of that class who live in the DC Metro area celebrated our anniversary at the Kehillat Shabbat service on December 2, 2023.

This group is sometimes referred to as HaTzon after the prominence and frequency of sheep in the Torah portion for our B’not Mitzvah (Vayetze , Genesis: 28:10 -32:3). Jan Kaufman recalls specifically that while practicing the Torah portions, each of us kept getting stuck on the Hebrew word for sheep, HaTzon, which appears multiple times in our portion. Rabbi Portnoy finally couldn’t take it anymore and said something like “How can you not know this word yet?!!!” And the name stuck.

We were the first Adult B’not Mitzvah class at Temple Sinai. (Actually, we were a B’nei Mitzvah class for a while until our two male class members chose not to participate in the ceremony.) But we didn’t start out planning to have a Bat Mitzvah. We were part of a Hebrew class at the temple that was taught in part by Rabbi Mindy Portnoy. At some point, Rabbi Portnoy raised the idea of having an Adult Bat Mitzvah and in pretty short order, several of the class members morphed the Hebrew class into a B’nei Mitzvah class.

We met for approximately 3 years with Rabbi Portnoy as our principal teacher and leader for Judaica, Torah, and Haftarah study, along with a stream of Hebrew teachers who supplemented her teaching on our Torah portions. Mindy was not only our teacher and leader, but also our supporter, inspiration, and friend throughout this adventure. As we got close to the finish, there was a sense of relatedness we’d come to over the many months we’d met. It felt as if we didn’t want to stop readings and discussions. Mindy suggested we meet as an informal book group. And, in fact, for more than 20 years, we continued to meet as a monthly book club concentrating on scores of books by Jewish authors that covered Jewish themes, culture, religion, and other related subjects.

Complete with her 3 x 5 cards, articles, and pages of notes on yellow legal pads, Rabbi Portnoy was the supportive guide, the glue — and sometimes the referee — who kept us reading and coming together over those 21 years. A lot of learning and a lot of laughing occurred during those sessions. We are forever grateful for and appreciative of Rabbi Portnoy. Thank you.

Patrice Feinstein

During the autumn of my first year of medical school, I noticed what looked like a lean-to built onto the side of my dorm’s rooftop. It was adorned with leaves and plastic fruits, and someone had hung their old bedsheet to create one of its walls. The wolf from “The Three Little Pigs” could have blown it away with a single huff. I had no idea what it was and was too busy to ask. I was having enough trouble understanding biochemistry that year.

Nearly two decades later, I figured it out. “Ohhh, that’s what that was!” I exclaimed to my rabbi who was teaching me about Sukkot during my conversion. It was like the time I rewatched an episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and understood what “shonda” meant. What other Jewish Easter eggs had been hiding in plain sight?

My rabbi explained that Sukkot, the third of the three major Jewish festivals, commemorates the Israelites’ 40-year journey through the desert. That structure I had seen in medical school was a sukkah, of course. As my mind conjured up the memory of that bedsheet flapping against the wooden posts, I was perplexed. The Korean immigrant in me who had once lived in a trailer and had ached for a brick home couldn’t understand a holiday celebrating life without permanent shelter.

The Jew in me now understands. This holiday is about the strength that powered the Israelites through their journey. Their story is also one of faith. Faith that no doubt wavered but endured.

As I approach Sukkot this year, I’ve been reflecting on my journey of conversion and life as a Jew. And as I see it, that journey has gone through three phases.

Phase A might as well be called Phase Awesome. My rabbi taught me the life cycle events and the holidays, but we also discussed Kabbalah and what the divine meant to him and me. It was like free therapy. A year later, I went before a jury of three rabbis who peppered me with questions that my in-laws later confessed would have stumped them. Once the jury decided I had passed, I underwent the mikveh ritual.

I was now a member of the club. And everything is awesome when you’re part of a team, right? I loved it. Lighting Shabbat candles, making latkes, drinking Manischewitz. I was handed a set of holidays and rituals by which I could weave spirituality into my life. This was the glorious honeymoon phase. But all honeymoons must come to an end.

Then came Phase B, and B was for “but.” It was a word I heard from far too many members of my club. But you don’t look Jewish. But your name isn’t Jewish. But please explain to me how exactly you’re Jewish. You read Torah so beautifully at services, but weren’t you reading the transliteration?

I have felt many times like I was not American enough. Now I wasn’t Jewish enough. I grew up under the white gaze. Now I was dealing with the white Jewish gaze. This was the phase when I thought to myself that this might have been a huge mistake.

Not too long after my conversion, I brought salsa verde chicken to a Rosh Hashanah dinner. It is a dish that my family has always loved. It’s tangy and has a mild kick. At the dinner, a Jewish guest turned to me and said, “You should know that the chicken at Rosh is actually supposed to be sweet — for a sweet New Year.” This person probably meant no harm. But I felt injured. I was a fraud and so was my chicken.

So phase B was NOT awesome. It was so not awesome that phase B had two parts. The first part was all the questioning and judgment from others. The second part was the internalized oppression that began to sink in. I found myself anticipating the judginess, and I started doubting myself.

So that brings me to phase C — complicated. Complicated because my life as a Jew is but not always awesome, especially since I don’t “pass” in the Ashkenormative American Jewish world. After 15 years, there are times when I still feel “other.” But I have embraced phase C because indeed it is the most Jewish phase.

Ironically as a convert, I have the privilege of being uber Jewish because my complex Jewish experience is inherently filled with lots of navel gazing. My husband, who was born to Jewish parents, has never once questioned his identity as a Jewish man. How un-Jewish is that — a life without questioning?

I realize now that my conversion process is my own version of Sukkot. My life as a convert has required strength and faith, both of which have flailed along the way. I suspect this was true for the Israelites as well. No doubt, there were moments of weakness and doubt that shrouded their journey through such insecurity. Perhaps along with celebrating strength, we should also celebrate its underbelly: vulnerability. Perhaps I too should celebrate my own vulnerabilities: when I read Torah in front of my nearly all white congregation, when I cook chicken for Rosh Hashanah, when I walk into Ashkenazi spaces.

I will approach Sukkot thinking about the uncertainties that I have overcome and have yet to encounter. I would like to think that I will be able to celebrate my frailties along with my successes. But just as I wish for others to be patient with me, I must be patient with myself.

Winnie Hahn

This essay was originally published at Hey Alma.

“Camp friends are the best friends.” You may have seen this phrase pop up on social media or heard people say it in your presence, particularly during the summer as parents across the country send their children off to summer camp. For me, that statement has dual meaning, one as a parent, and one as a former camper and counselor myself. I’ve been fortunate in my life to come of age, discover myself, and crystalize my Jewish identity through a remarkable Jewish camp. The relationships and friendships I made through camp are the most genuine and long-lasting of my life, outside of my own family. And my husband and I have been able to give our children the same gift – this summer will be their 6^th summer at URJ Camp Harlam.

I began my summer camp journey very young when my father was a rabbinical student at HUC-JIR. My parents decided to spend a summer at a B’nai B’rith family camp in Pennsylvania, with my dad serving on faculty. I was too young to really have memories of that experience, but that summer embedded a love of Jewish summer camp in my parents that led them to send me to camp on my own as soon as I was old enough. I’m sure people thought my parents were crazy for sending an eight-year-old to sleepaway camp for almost four weeks. And I was definitely homesick that first summer. But it was special, and their decision changed my life. I grew up in Bloomington, Indiana where there was a small Jewish community, and very few Jews my own age. At camp, I was surrounded by a community of young, energetic Jewish people. I was exposed to worship infused with joyful Jewish music and engaged in Jewish learning that left me wanting more. Shabbat was magical in a way I had never known. I still find worship in an outdoor setting transports me back to camp’s beit t’fillah in the woods. And when I need calm and peace, I hear my camp community singing the Shechechianu in harmony, multiple songleaders playing guitar in the background.

I spent my first two summers at URJ’s Olin Sang Ruby in Wisconsin, but my formative camp experiences were at URJ’s Goldman Union Camp Institute in Zionsville, Indiana (commonly called GUCI). I was a camper at GUCI for 4 summers, followed by a summer in the Avodah program where we served as the maintenance for camp for the summer. Yes, I voluntarily cleaned toilets, washed dishes, worked in the camp office, and collected trash around camp for 9 weeks and loved it. Then I worked as a counselor for three summers, finally seeing the “other side” of how camp magic is made.

My camp friends are truly my best friends. No matter how long it’s been or how far we live from one another, we pick up exactly where we left off. With my camp friends, I laugh with my whole body, smile constantly, and know I can share anything with them – good or difficult. At GUCI, we have another saying, “wherever you go, there’s always someone GUCI.” And how true this is. Wherever I go, I seem to encounter someone who is connected to GUCI. That bond is strong – all from spending a few short weeks together as youth.

When our children were nearing the appropriate age, I was excited about the idea that they would have the same positive experiences I had at camp. But then my parental feelings also started to kick in. Were they too young to be away from home? They’d never even slept at a friend’s house before, let alone at camp with a bunk of strangers for 3 ½ weeks. I started having anxiety about how much I would miss them and worry about whether they would be homesick or if they would make new friends easily. So we went to visit URJ Camp Harlam for ourselves. We arrived at Camp Harlam to staff saying “Welcome Home!” By the end of the tour, our daughters wanted to know why they couldn’t just stay. The decision was made, and it’s been an incredible six years so far.

This summer will be our twin daughters’ final summer as campers at Camp Harlam. For three of their six summers at camp they’ve chosen to go both sessions, spending 7 weeks at their summer home. They spend 10 months of the year dreaming about and counting down the days until they get to spend two months at camp. Another saying, “10 for 2.” They’ve made friends that will last a lifetime, and they have solidified their Jewish identities in the most positive, encouraging, and supportive environment. In 2023, our girls will go with Camp Harlam to Israel, a summer they’ve been talking about for years.

This year, I was asked by Camp Harlam to serve on their Camp Council. The Camp Council is a group of lay leaders tasked with serving as ambassadors for camp and supporting the professional staff. In many ways, it’s the perfect next step for me. I have loved camp my whole life, and I was able to share that with my own family. Now, I can share it with you as well. Our Temple Sinai community has a close bond with URJ Camp Harlam, and I look forward to strengthening that important relationship. So if you are considering sending your children to camp, I’d love to talk with you. I can’t wait to welcome home more of our Sinai families at Camp Harlam.

Debbie M. Rappaport

We had considered joining Temple Sinai (TS) in the fall of 2019 and then covid struck the world with force. We decided to delay our move from a local temple to Temple Sinai until religious school resumed face to face.

Moving on from our prior temple was a difficult one as we had many years of membership there, but we knew it was time for a fresh start with TS being so close (0.2 mi.). We have a next-door neighbor member and their child works at TSRS. We also knew the children would have plenty of classmates from Lafayette Elementary School. Jason’s mother Patty also made the move as a new member.

We were welcomed with open arms by clergy, teachers, and members. From the new member reception to the celebration of Sukkot where Niya got to shake the Lulav at Sukkot with Rabbi Roos’ direction, we have always felt cared for and valued at TS as an interfaith, interreligious, and multiracial family. Both Niya and Baba had wonderful consecrations and we got to rock out to Rabbi Diamondstein in concert for the last night of Hannukah.

We are so thankful for joining the TS community and being filled with such positive and loving energy during such a difficult time with the pandemic. We feel that being so close to TS its members, clergy, and staff have made us neighbors in the truest sense. The late Fred Rogers once said,

“When we look for what’s best in the person we happen to be with at the moment, we’re doing what G-d does, so in appreciating our neighbor, we’re participating in something truly sacred.”

We look forward to sharing many more moments with our neighbors at TS!

Jason Fabrikant & Joanna Lo, Parents of Niya & Baba