August 8, 2025 | Shabbat Sermon

We all have powerful images etched into our minds that we carry with us. They might be from a particular place or moment in our travels. They might be something we saw on television or from a significant moment in our lives. These images are permanent, much like the way we record sound bites on a vinyl record or, a century earlier, when Thomas Edison created the first phonograph. That permanence is the same with the images etched in our souls—images that carry us from place to place and give us insight into our history and story.

Of the images etched into my mind, I have been drawing on one since last Saturday evening, when we observed Tisha B’Av, the anniversary of the destruction of both Temples in Jerusalem. When you walk near what is called Robinson’s Arch—named for the archaeologist who discovered the extension of the Western Wall of the Kotel, near the corner of the Southern Wall—you encounter an enormous pile of large stones. These stones are the remnants of the Roman siege in 70 CE—or possibly an earthquake. In the stories we tell, however, they are a reminder of a world that once was, a world that only lives on through the commandments of the Torah or the practices described in the Mishnah, which we can no longer follow. Each of these one-ton stones bears witness to our people’s history and the destruction of what we once knew as safety and sanctuary.

Can you imagine what it would be like to have lived in those times? Going back to the First Temple period, we may not have to imagine too much. Last week, we read from the opening chapter of the book of Isaiah as part of our Haftarah. Isaiah lived a few hundred years before the destruction of the First Temple. His world was filled with idolatry, a huge gap between the wealthy and the poor, and neglect of God’s teachings. He expressed frustration that the Israelites brought offerings, calling them futile because they were accompanied by evil. He called to them: “Cleanse yourselves, remove evil from My sight, learn to do good, seek justice, relieve the oppressed, uphold the orphan’s rights, take up the widow’s cause.” With these words, Isaiah knew what would befall his people if they did not correct their ways—they would lose their identity. The destruction of the ancient Temple was not only the destruction of a physical space, but the undoing of sanctuaries, rituals, and traditions that grounded daily life.

Centuries later, rabbis sat with that history and grappled with it. Why did it happen? They wanted to understand so they could prevent such destruction again. Rabbinic tradition tied those historic moments to our actions. The Talmud tells us in Tractate Yoma (9b) that the First Temple was destroyed because idol worship, forbidden sexual relationships, and bloodshed were rampant. During the Second Temple period, the people were performing mitzvot, so why was the Temple destroyed? The rabbis teach it was because of senseless hatred (Talmud Gittin 55b). Their reasoning reflects how human action brings about destruction.

Many of us know the story of Kamza and Bar Kamza, but it is always worth retelling. A man instructed his servant to invite his friend Kamza to a party, but the servant invited his enemy, Bar Kamza, instead. When the host saw Bar Kamza, he wanted to remove him, but Bar Kamza offered to stay and pay for what he ate. The host refused. Bar Kamza offered to pay for half the party, then the whole party, but neither was acceptable, and the host threw him out—while the rabbis present did nothing. Bar Kamza then informed the Roman emperor that the rabbis were conspiring against him. He suggested sending a red heifer as a gift for sacrifice. En route, Bar Kamza blemished the calf, ensuring the rabbis would not accept it, thus offending the emperor and prompting the siege of Jerusalem. According to the rabbis, this could have been avoided if they had intervened.

This story is about more than the destruction of a physical space—it is a creative way to teach that the world, along with our values and institutions, can crumble around us. In many instances, we cannot control these events. Stephen Covey, in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, describes living in a world of concentric circles. The outer circle is the Circle of Concern: health, family, politics, war, safety, antisemitism, and more. Some things in this circle are beyond our control, while others are not. Inside is the Circle of Influence—the place where proactive people focus their energy, working on what they can change. Reactive people focus on the Circle of Concern, blaming, accusing, and feeling victimized.

Were the rabbis of old working within their Circle of Concern or Circle of Influence? Perhaps both. The prophet Isaiah may be our model for focusing on the Circle of Influence. This Shabbat is called Shabbat Nachamu, named for the opening words of the Haftarah from Isaiah 40. This Isaiah knew of the destruction of the Temple and sought to comfort the people: “Nachamu, nachamu ami yomar Eloheichem. Comfort, comfort My people, says your God.”

Renowned author Dr. Erica Brown explains that harsh realities must be balanced by love. Tenderness, she writes, is not just about how you speak but about the relief your words bring. Consolation begins when we value what truly matters. “The first step of consolation,” she says, “is not a tangible solution. It is hope.”

And that is our question: how do we find hope in darkness? Today, sanctuaries of safety and security feel like those toppled stones in Jerusalem. The war between Israel and Hamas rages on. Hostages remain in captivity. Hunger and suffering persist—in Gaza, Sudan, Ukraine, and beyond. Here at home, people face poverty, homelessness, antisemitism, and fear.

The great Temple may be gone, but our tradition teaches about the Mikdash M’at—the “small sanctuary” of synagogues and study halls. We may not be able to control the world’s great concerns, but we can influence our immediate surroundings. We can feed the hungry, help the vulnerable, volunteer, and create sanctuaries of kindness and connection.

As we recite the Mi Shebeirach, a prayer for healing, let us remember: the most powerful healing comes when we turn prayer into action. May we be comforted by our ability to create small sanctuaries, to act as agents of change, and to bring hope into the world around us. Kein yehi ratzon.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

August 8, 2025

It is the greatest honor to serve this community as your rabbi. I know that you turn to me for wisdom, guidance, morality, and answers to the most profound questions. Many of you expect me to be a voice of reason and to speak out against injustice. I strive to be present for you during life’s challenges, and I find great joy in celebrating with you at simchas as well. These past twenty-two months have been some of the most challenging for the Jewish people and for rabbis. I have tried my best to lead with intention and to bring Torah to the world. I have worked to create opportunities for us to deeply explore Jewish Peoplehood, Israel, sacred texts, and more.

I know that we likely don’t always agree on everything – and that’s okay! That is what makes the Jewish community special. Disagreement creates the best space for the fruits of Torah to emerge. The Talmud recounts the story of Reish Lakish and Rabbi Yochanan who were great study partners. After Reish Lakish died, Rabbi Yochanan struggled to find a new partner who would challenge him. He grew frustrated because the new partner never disagreed with him. Disagreement sharpened Rabbi Yochanan’s Torah. Disagreement, dialogue, and discussion lie at the hearts of who we are as a people. 

With that in mind, I want to share with you something that I struggle with. Over the last twenty-two months of war, many claim to know all the answers. We rely on trusted journalists and turn to a range of media outlets—from the New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, and The Atlantic to CNN, Fox News, and MSNBC, The Associated Press and more. For news coming out of Israel, I turn to the Times of Israel, Ynet News, the Jerusalem Post and Haaretz. Some turn to see what Arab news media is sharing and they turn to Al Jazeera. (One great source to see what the Arab world is sharing is www.memri.org, it is Arabic news in translation.) Many of us listen to podcasts like For Heaven’s Sake with Rabbi Donniel Hartman and Yossi Klein HaLevi, or Ask Haviv Anything with Haviv Rettig Gur, or Call Me Back with Dan Senor, to name a few. We trust all these sources as truth and fact as they help us know and understand how to face complex issues.

From time to time, on the For Heaven’s Sake podcast, Hartman and Klein HaLevi asked what they know versus what they don’t know. As I reflect on these two questions, I realize I know a lot less than I don’t know.

I know that I love Israel.

I know that my heart breaks that the 50 hostages are still held captive and that the world doesn’t seem to care about them.

I know that there is profound suffering in Gaza.

I know that 70% of Israelis want the war to come to an end and the hostages to all come home; if I were Israeli, I would be part of this 70%.

I know that Hamas lies and creates propaganda for the world to see. 

I know that Hamas wants their people to suffer. 

I know that empathy has no boundaries. 

I know that antisemitism is on the rise.

But—

I don’t know what media source to fully trust. 

I don’t know what happens on the ground in Gaza each day. 

I don’t know what the real numbers are.

I don’t know what it is like to walk into a booby-trapped building. 

I don’t know what it is like to leave my family for months on end to serve in the reserves. 

I don’t know what happens in the back rooms of Israel’s war planning or governing decisions. 

I don’t know what, if any, other motives are at play in these governing coalition discussions (I know what I read, and I have my thoughts.)

Recently, I listened to the Identity Crisis Podcast, where host Yehuda Kurtzer interviewed David Horovitz, Editor-in-Chief of The Times of Israel, on “Journalism in the Fog of War.” I want to share some key points he makes, please see the transcript or listen to the podcast for exact quotes

• Israeli journalists cannot actually cover the war with any reliability because they are not on the ground. The IDF allows journalists short entries into the Gaza Strip.
• Independent and foreign journalists are barred from Gaza. There has not been a single verified independent journalist able to file freely in an ongoing manner from Gaza.
• Foreign news agencies, Reuters, the Associated Press and the Agence France-Presse have reporters in Gaza who are not part of their international staff. They are local hires; some have an interest to get everything right, and some have no interest whatsoever. All of them are influenced by the fact that Hamas does or can do terrible harm to people who do not do what they want.

I reflect on these words and on this piece by Matti Friedman in the Free Press about searching for truth in an information war. I think about how mainstream media outlets such as the NY Times use images and words to skew the narrative, or even a German news outlet publishing staged photos, fueling the Hamas propaganda machine. So what do we do? We struggle, we question, we wonder what role antisemitism plays in all of this. We do our best.

We hope and pray that there will come a time when everyone will lay down their weapons, hostages return home, and the suffering of Palestinians in Gaza will come to an end. I also hope and pray  that we begin to truly see the humanity in one another.

And, if you read one thing this week, read Rachel Goldberg Polin’s plea in the Free Press entitled The Appeal of a Mother Who Buried Her Only Son.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

August 1, 2025

This is a challenging moment for Israel and the Jewish people. Since the beginning of the war, I’ve chosen not to comment on Israel’s military strategy. I am not a military expert, and much about the war remains unknown to me. Yet, we now face a growing humanitarian crisis in Gaza. While many reports have warned of famine since October 2023—some even earlier—those specific claims have not proven accurate. Still, real hunger persists. Food prices continue to rise rapidly.

At the war’s start, aid shipments temporarily stopped. They resumed but halted again for 80 days after the winter ceasefire. In April 2024, I gave a sermon opposing the suspension of humanitarian aid as a war tactic. I repeated that concern in March 2025 when Israeli leaders believed that restricting aid might pressure Hamas to surrender or release hostages. They were wrong. Hamas exploited that suffering to strengthen its narrative and delegitimize Israel.

Hamas remains responsible for much of the suffering in Gaza. They initiated this war on October 7 and still hold hostages. Hamas has stolen aid, charged exorbitant prices, and interfered with fair distribution. Many trucks remain undelivered. The UN has refused to collaborate with the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF), the only group offering free meals. During failed negotiations, Hamas demanded the removal of the GHF because it undercut their control over aid as a revenue source.

Last week, I wrote about how Jews are held to a high moral standard. As a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation,” we must recognize suffering and respond with compassion. The Torah in Deuteronomy urges us: “There shall be no needy among you… and if there is, you shall not harden your heart” (Deut. 15:4, 7). Our Haggadah invites, “All who are hungry, come and eat.” Proverbs adds, “If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink” (Prov. 25:21).

These sacred teachings call us to act. We can no longer ignore the pain in Gaza. Thankfully, this week brought reports of increased aid—coordinated by Israel and through foreign airdrops. Every effort to ease suffering is critical.

During last year’s High Holy Days, I discussed our evolving relationship with Israel. Rabbi Donniel Hartman describes a category called “troubled-committed.” Many of us belong here—we are troubled by Israel’s policies, but we remain committed to the State and its people. This moment should not shift us into the “troubled-uncommitted” category. Discomfort with the government must not make us question our core identity.

The policies of this current Israeli government are deeply concerning. Yet, recent actions offer hope. Israel must continue improving. Using humanitarian aid as leverage is never acceptable. As Jews, we must demand more—from ourselves and our leaders. Right now, the world does not view Israel or the Jewish people favorably. We must meet that moment with moral clarity and compassion.

Last week, The New York Times published a photo meant to capture the Gaza crisis. It showed a mother holding an emaciated child. Later, it emerged that the child had cerebral palsy and long-standing nutritional issues. The photo cropped out his healthy brother. Within 24 hours, the Times admitted the mistake and offered context—but the harm had already spread.

Another image showed a sick child, later revealed to be in Italy receiving treatment—thanks to Israeli efforts. These misleading stories, even if unintentional, deepen bias and put Jews at risk. Media agencies must do better. Honest reporting matters, especially in a world where perception shapes reality.

This week, I turned again to the For Heaven’s Sake podcast with Rabbi Hartman and Yossi Klein HaLevi. Their insights have guided me throughout the war. They reminded listeners that empathy is not finite. We can care for Palestinians and still love Israel. We can feel for our neighbors and remain loyal to our people.

As we reflect on this painful moment, we give thanks that aid has increased. We continue to pray—for the return of the hostages, for the war to end, and for suffering to cease.

• For Heaven’s Sake Podcast with Rabbi Donniel Hartman and Yossi Klein Halevi
• The Price of Flour Shows the Hunger Crisis in Gaza by Amit Segal
• Is Gaza Starving? Searching for the Truth in an Information War. By Matti Friedman
• Once again, Israel tried to restrict Gaza aid. Once again, its policy failed miserably by Lazar Berman

We continue to pray that the hostages will return home, the war will end soon, and the suffering in Gaza will cease. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner