What I Found In Laconia, NH
Installation Sermon
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
Temple B’nai Israel,
Laconia, NH
November 13, 2015
President of the Board of Trustees, Cantor; fellow rabbis, educators and
clergy of many faiths; members of the Board of Directors and congregants of
Temple B’nai Israel; honored guests and friends, I begin with the most
beautiful word in the Hebrew language, shalom! Peace!
Having just begun serving as rabbi of Temple B’nai Israel, you
will forgive me, I hope, for still feeling a little bit like “the new kid on
the block.” You see, I’m still looking
around, still trying to familiarize myself with the area, the people and the
culture.
To tell the truth, about a year ago, when I began looking at
this fresh and new venture, I didn’t know what to expect. I was finishing a 20-year rabbinate in the
Boston area, an area known for its erudition in academia as well as
Judaica. What would I find in Laconia,
New Hampshire?
The whirl of events surrounding my transition left me almost
in a daze. It was good that soon
afterwards I left for some R&R in Israel. Israel is my home. My mother lives there, my brother and his
family—my family…. It is where my entire being finds nurturance and
replenishment, where my roots reach as deep as the most ancient strata of my
people’s history, and where my boughs extend up and out, even to the most
modern times and innovations.
When I returned at the end of the summer, I felt refreshed,
ready to begin this new chapter in my life.
Yet I still didn’t know quite what to expect, and the High Holy Days met
me with a bit more than the usual trepidation in my heart.
What I did find astounded me—and still continues—to this
day.
Not only did I find the kind of powerful and dramatic beauty
of nature that New Hampshire possesses. Within the first few weeks, I found
some time to hike up a couple of mountains and explore a couple of nearby
trails. I experienced the magnificent
kind of New England fall that artists and poets rhapsodize about.
Not only did I discover a slower, more patient, more
easy-going way of life; a place where you don’t need to cut off another driver
just to get in the line of traffic; where, if you want to stop and enjoy the
moment, you can, and do.
Not only did I discover a thriving Jewish community here,
but one that has been in existence for well over one hundred years!
I discovered a community of people so devoted to their
Judaism that they took it upon themselves to make sure that it survived and
even thrived. Working first with
volunteers and then with student-rabbis—many of whom went on to become national
leaders in their own right—this group took on the mitzvah—the imperative—of maintaining
their Jewish way of life for themselves and their children. Volunteers all, they not only ascertained
that the temple stood on solid financial ground, but also that it faithfully
followed our customs and traditions and became a warm and welcoming home—in the
fullest, most “heimisch” sense of the
word—for all its sons and daughters.
Maybe that’s what has to happen in places like New
Hampshire, where we Jews find ourselves more isolated and therefore more dependent
on our own skills and abilities than in some other, larger and more specialized
communities. The responsibility of being
Jewish, of living Jewish, of making sure the Jewish People continue beyond us,
is so much more incumbent upon us here.
At the same time, however, Laconia is not so
isolated from the rest of the world, not in this age of social media and instant
communication. The same problems and issues
that Jews face all over the world are as crucial here as elsewhere.
Living as a small minority among other cultures has always made
keeping Jewish traditions alive and meaningful a difficult task. It is possibly even more of a challenge today,
especially in places where gathering to worship and study as a k’hilla, as a sacred community, means we
have to get in our cars and drive nearly an hour just to get to a temple.
Throughout our people’s history, the study of our sacred
texts has been key to Jewish existence.
Yet today, in our time of unprecedented progress in research, science
and technology, a day when the study of the cosmos can take us to the very
first milliseconds of the universe’s existence, the stories of Creation that we
find in the Torah seem—at least to some of us—irrelevant and childish.
Laws that once regulated our people’s behavior—what we wore,
what we ate, even whom we socialized with and married—are less in keeping with
our contemporary lifestyle than they ever were before.
Perhaps it was the Holocaust, less than a lifetime away, or
maybe the advances of photography—particularly images of war and terrorism—that
allowed the most horrifying crimes, the most horrendous cruelty ever exercised
by human beings, to penetrate the safe havens that once were our homes and break
down the walls of our carefully structured lives.
Israel, the homeland our people returned to and rebuilt as a
safe harbor, a refuge from the age-old scourge of anti-Semitism, is still being
attacked and delegitimized among its many enemies and detractors. Among us, too, some of us are examining our
relationship to our homeland, trying to understand both the politics and the special
bond that exists between Israel and the Diaspora, and what that means for
us—and more importantly, for our children, who have never known a world without
a State of Israel, without an Israel Defense Force to help defend and protect them,
and to fill us with joy, gratitude and pride.
To quote a line from one of my favorite Broadway musicals,
“Fiddler on The Roof,” these are all problems “that would cross a rabbi’s eyes!”
And yet, just as we’ve never lost hope in the past, so we
remain hopeful today. Our strength as a
people has never come only from within us.
And surely, as our third patriarch, Jacob, learned to recognize so long
ago, surely God is present here, among us, at this sacred time and place.
When I first walked into this community and sanctuary, I
felt—as palpable and as tangible as anything in the physical world that can be
perceived, measured and gauged—love and devotion that are nothing short of
miraculous.
Our very presence here tonight is proof that, despite all the challenges and
difficulties, we have not abandoned our faith, nor lost any of the love that we’ve
always carried with us, throughout our journeys. Our love for our heritage, for our people and
our land and, ultimately, for our God, is still the single most powerful force
that has always inspired us to create and maintain our sacred communities.
Despite the relative isolation of this congregation—or
perhaps because of it—Temple B’nai Israel has become hallowed ground for this community. They just can’t seem to stay away from
it! From the Board of Directors to the
volunteer teachers, caretakers, cooks and handymen (and women); from Cantor to
Educator; from the children and the parents or grandparents who bring them here,
to a rabbi who drives two hours every other weekend so we can all celebrate or
mourn together, learn together, and worship together. Surely there is excitement here, a spirit of
innovation, a true miracle of survival and existence.
Temple B’nai Israel is a staple in the rich communal life of
the Lakes Region of New Hampshire. Every
summer, it participates in the Food Festival, offering a wide array of
traditional Jewish foods. In the fall,
the school children glean the fields of local farms and prepare soup for
Salvation Army lunches. The annual Interfaith
Thanksgiving Service will take place here, in this sanctuary, a week from this
Sunday; and proceeds from tomorrow night’s performance, at the Winnipesaukee
Playhouse, of the Boston College Jazz Band and Vocal Ensemble will benefit the
Central New Hampshire Visiting Nurse Association and Hospice.
Services at Temple B’nai Israel are a true example of what
the rabbis called not only avodat
hakodesh—the sacred service—but also avodat
halev—the service of the heart. And
the enthusiasm shown by the children as well as adults who come here to
participate in Torah study and Jewish learning only highlights the nearness of
the message of Torah and Judaism to our hearts and minds.
All these—beauty of nature, a vibrant community, challenges
and blessings—and yet so much more, have I found here, at Temple B’nai Israel,
in Laconia, NH.
Not too long ago, a child asked me a wonderful
question. “Rabbi,” he said, “how do you
know that God hears our prayers?” I
looked him in the eye and answered, as truthfully as I could, “Because you are
here.”
My friends, I feel blessed to be here tonight with you, to
participate with you in this joyful occasion.
I feel blessed to have been asked to be one of a long line of rabbis who
found inspiration, purpose and meaning here. I am humbled by the kindness,
trust and faith you have shown me by entrusting into my hands not only your own
spiritual care, but also the care and education of your children and
grandchildren. It’s a gift I will always
treasure.
As always, I am filled with love and gratitude to my wife,
Sally; to our children Hannah and Jonathan; to our parents, family and friends
for always being there for me and supporting me along my path.
I feel particularly blessed and grateful to have a role in
the history of our people, to carry God’s message forward, to help bring to
reality the vision of the prophet Isaiah:
“These I will bring to my holy mountain and I will give them joy in my
house of prayer. Their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be accepted
on my altar; for my house will be called a house of prayer for all nations”
(Is. 56:7).
Thank you
and may God bless us all tonight and always.
Amen.
© 2015 by Boaz
D. Heilman
