I want to start by sharing the remarks I shared at this past week’s Open House Shabbat, where our building welcomed hundreds of people over the course of Friday night and Saturday morning.
It was truly an inspiring return to our weekly rhythms of Friday night musical services and teachings, Saturday morning services and Torah discussions with our Hebrew School students, each followed by meals with the community, and our twice monthly Young Family Shabbat services.
I believe these remarks speak to the heart of who this community is, and so, if you’re thinking about joining the synagogue, with the High Holidays coming up in just a couple of weeks, now is the time.
My remarks follow:
We call this event Open House Shabbat. On the one hand, what, we couldn’t do any better? We had to borrow from what real estate agents use, when they’re looking to efficiently sell a house that just went on the market?
On the other hand, there is actually something really important about this title that suggests just what kind of community we aspire to be.
First, open. The “open” imagery, as I explain each year when we host this event, comes from a formative moment in the Jewish story. Abraham, our ancestor whom God first calls out to establish a brit, a covenant with, is sitting one day at the entrance of his tent “as the day grew hot. Looking up,” the Torah says, “he saw three figures standing near him. As soon as he saw them, he ran from the entrance of the tent to greet them, and, bowing to the ground, he said, ‘My lords! If it please you, do not go on past your servant. Let a little water be brought; bathe your feet and recline under the tree. And let me fetch a morsel of bread that you may refresh yourselves; then go on — seeing that you have come your servant’s way.’ They replied, ‘Do as you have said’” (Genesis 18:1-5).
From here was born the mitzvah, the sacred act in Jewish tradition, of hakhnasat orhim, of welcoming guests, of receiving with warmth those whom you do not know.
Now I would submit to you that “guests” is something of a misnomer when it comes to what we’re doing here tonight this Open House Shabbat: those of you who are here at Society Hill Synagogue for the first time, or one of the first times, are not necessarily “guests”: a guest is someone who is visiting someone else’s home, someone else’s event; very rarely do “guests” make that home their own.
And yet, in a sense, that’s what we’re inviting you to do, for as long or as short as you wish — we’re inviting you to consider putting some roots down; to help contribute to this community like it’s your own. It can take some time to feel comfortable in a space, in new surroundings, but that’s on us; that’s on those of us who already feel comfortable here. That’s the mitzvah of hakhnasat orhim — the call to each of us for whom this community is already deeply familiar, whose people we already know, whose building’s twists and turns we’re already familiar with, to extend — like Abraham — a little helping hand; some proactive help to help people feel comfortable by initiating conversation, introducing ourselves, helping people find what page we’re on in the siddur; all of our antennae should be up to help people feel at home.
There’s a classic rabbinic example of what hakhnasat orhim, the sacred practice of helping people feel welcome, looks like:
A rabbi is hosting a fancy holiday meal, and she puts out a gorgeous white tablecloth, beautiful silverware, crystal goblets. Her guest, new to the community, reaches across the table, tips over his glass of wine, and stains the beautiful tablecloth.
So what does the rabbi do?
The rabbi, oh so smoothly, nudges the table herself, from underneath, thereby toppling her own glass as well.
“Oy,” she says, “this table. So unbalanced, I’ve been meaning to fix it,” fulfilling the mitzvah of hakhnasat orhim, welcoming guests.
Now, not all of us can live up to this lofty standard. I totally empathize with those of you saying, oy, that’s a nice gesture, but wouldn’t a small part of you want to try to save the tablecloth?
Still, it suggests to us the sacredness with which the Jewish people hold this practice of cultivating an experience of welcome for those new to a place, or new to a community.
In fact, so lofty is the mitzvah of making others feel welcome that it is on the short list of mitzvot about which the Talmud says:
adam okhel peiroteihen ba’olam hazeh, v’hakeren kayemet lo la’olam haba
אָדָם אוֹכֵל פֵּירוֹתֵיהֶן בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה, וְהַקֶּרֶן קַיֶּימֶת לוֹ לָעוֹלָם הַבָּא
A person experiences the fruits of the action in this world, and the principal (the core benefit of the action) remains in the World-to-Come
In other words, when we make another feel welcome, yes, we experience the sparks that come from that action; both giver and receiver experience the warmth, the positivity of that exchange, but it actually goes deeper than that: the ripples, the reverberations of that exchange penetrate into ha’olam haba — the world to come.
Do we know what that means? Not exactly. But to the extent we sense there is something beyond the existence we know, something beyond the realms we can perceive, something beyond our eyes and ears, but life beyond life — Judaism believes that our actions in this world have ripples in those realms, too. And making others feel welcome is one of the 10 actions — you can check on page 107 in your siddur for the other nine — that have this effect.
So let me briefly do my part of hakhnasat orhim: welcome to Society Hill Synagogue. You are welcome anytime. You’re welcome whether you are early to services or late. You’re welcome whether you are fluent in Hebrew or don’t know a single letter. You’re welcome whether you are Orthodox or Conservative, Reform or Reconstructionist, none of the above; or have no idea what any of those labels mean. You’re welcome if you’re religious or secular, atheist or agnostic, or talk to God every day. You’re welcome if you’re Democrat or Republican, gay or straight, cis or trans. You’re welcome in formal or casual wear, sneakers or heels. You’re welcome if you are Jewish or not, exploring the tradition, or just accompanying a loved one. You are welcome here. If our doors are open, you’re invited. No income standards, ideological litmus tests, requirements of any level of Jewish knowledge. I’ll tell you how serious I am about this: you are even welcome if you are a Dallas Cowboys Fan. (But Go Birds.)
This is a place where we come to open up our hearts, our minds, our spirits, and feel connected: to one another; to the Divine; to our tradition; to our story. This a place where we come to be open to the sacred practice of hakhnasat orhim, of welcoming others, both on the giving and receiving end. It can be hard to give ourselves permission to feel welcome, to feel at home; and I implore all of us to do that; to be open to sacred encounters with other human beings; open to transformation as we engage in those encounters.
So we’ve covered “Open.” But let’s briefly touch on the other word in the title for tonight’s event, which is actually equally significant, and of course that word is: bayit, house.
Society Hill Synagogue is a bayit. It’s a house. For starters, it’s a Beit Midrash, a House of Study. Here at Society Hill Synagogue, we recognize that Jewish tradition, a living tradition, is a storehouse, a treasure trove, of sacred wisdom, waiting to be discovered — to be brought to bear on our own life circumstances, creating new worlds of meaning. Even — and perhaps especially — in this age of modern life, with the discoveries of science, the inundation we experience of news from around the globe at dizzying speeds, we could use more immersion in this storehouse of timeless wisdom, the intergenerational wrestling by our ancestors and by ourselves of how we are called to cultivate lives of goodness and meaning and service. Through our Shabbat morning Torah Study, through our ongoing adult education as referenced in your brochures, through our Hebrew School and our Playschool, we make ongoing Jewish learning a core element of what is available here at Society Hill Synagogue for you to avail yourselves of. We are a Beit Midrash, a house of study.
We are also a Beit T’filah, a House of Prayer. We moderns don’t necessarily know what to do with prayer. Is it where we ask God for something and we then get it, like a cosmic vending machine? Is it where we read the words of the prayerbook, subjecting them to scrutiny, determining whether we like them or not? Is it talking to God spontaneously, or is it prescribed liturgy? An old-fashioned superstition or a lost art form? To me, it’s a practice that’s been handed down to us that is worth exploring, forging ahead into the unknown, holding space for t’filah, the Hebrew word for prayer, which means something like to break down the barrier: to break down the barrier between what is within and what is beyond, opening up our hearts to whatever comes, doing so alongside one another. A Beit T’filah, a House of Prayer.
We’re also a Beit Mitzvah, a House of Action. Judaism has never held that religion is exclusively what we do with our inner lives, even if that matters, too. It’s how we carry this spirit into the outside world, serving others, responding to the call. Society Hill Synagogue is a place where we respond with action. Channeling the words of our Haggadah, we say, let all who are hungry come and eat, packing food for Philadelphia neighbors with our food insecurity initiative. Recognizing that civic engagement is a core plank in effecting tikkun olam, repair of this broken world, we have a get out the vote drive. Responding to the words, v’shinantam levanekha, you shall teach your children, we volunteer in the classroom at Vare-Washington Elementary School, seeking to serve our community. A Beit Mitzvah, a House of Action.
Which brings us to the final form of Bayit that this house is. It’s a Beit Knesset, a House of Community. Traditionally translated as synagogue, this word simply means a house of community, a house of assembly; a house of gathering. Fundamentally, that’s what we do here. We commune. We assemble; we gather. To what end? Well, I’ve identified a couple of ends: we learn; we pray; we act. But sometimes, “gathering” is an end in and of itself. We are Jews. We are human beings. We need to gather; to connect; to feel; to love. Increasingly, in the world we live in, we can feel isolated, lonely. The second half of “let all those who are hungry come and eat” is “let all those who are in need come too.” What does “in need” mean? Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik teaches that it means those who are, yes, lonely.
And we all have lonely parts of ourselves. We all have parts of ourselves yearning for connection, for warmth, for sparks of life through the interaction with another. That’s what we do here at Society Hill Synagogue. We connect with one another over meals after each and every one of our Friday night and Saturday morning services, and through so many other communal programs. We are a Beit Knesset, a house of gathering, a house of community.
Welcome to our Open House. Shabbat Shalom.
Remembering October 7
I also want to take this moment to highlight a couple of community-wide observances of the commemoration of the tragic events of October 7 that our community is active in supporting. I hope you’ll join us. These include:
Monday, Oct. 7 @ 7:00 pm, we’ll join the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia and the Board of Rabbis for a virtual memorial service to commemorate the Oct. 7 massacre. The program will include prayer, mourning, and messages of hope — Register here.
Sunday, Oct. 27 @ 1:30-3:00 pm, Society Hill Synagogue is an Institutional Sponsor of the in-person community-wide commemoration that will be hosted by the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia at Har Zion Temple (1500 Hagys Ford Rd, Penn Valley, PA) — Register here.