May 9, 2025

Before I begin my Shabbat email message, I want to let you know that I have been notified several times this week that our members have received emails using my name, connected to a strange email address, asking for help with special projects. If someone responded to those initial emails, the follow-up was a request for gift cards in very high amounts. Please know that I would never ask for something like that via email. If the email seems weird, it probably is!

As first-year students at Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem, Debra and I worked together with our beloved teacher, Paul Liptz, to plan a trip to Poland for our classmates. While I do not quite recall how the idea came up, we convinced Paul to lead us on this journey through Jewish history during Passover. We walked the streets of the Warsaw Ghetto, visited the platform where the Kindertransport left the city, and learned about Janusz Korczak (pronounced Ya-nis Kor-jack) and Mordecai Anielewicz. We met the modern-day Reform Jewish community called Beit Warszawa. We also visited the Treblinka Death Camp, Auschwitz-Birkenau, and the city of Krakow.

Thinking back to that trip in April of 2002, two moments stand out. First, we visited a town called Jedwabne, whose story is told in the book Neighbors. The town was divided relatively evenly between its Jewish and non-Jewish population. They lived together; the children prayed together. Prior to 1941, it was a beautiful place to coexist. However, in July of 1941, the non-Jewish neighbors turned on their friends. They gathered them in a barn and burned it. There were 1,600 Jews and 1,600 non-Jews living in the town. Only seven of the Jews survived. I will never forget the spot where the barn stood, which now bears a plaque. As you read the story, you learn that the descendants of the non-Jews live in denial of their ancestors’ actions. The story teaches us that it was not the Nazis who perpetrated this evil, but people who were friends and neighbors. It is a painfully dark story in Holocaust history that helps us understand how ordinary people were caught up in evil.

I also remember walking through Birkenau, beholding the barracks, entering the gas chamber, and then reaching the crematorium at the back of the camp. It is impossible to describe what it is like to walk through a gas chamber where more than a million of our Jewish family members were murdered. I recall feeling a hollowness whose depth reached the center of the earth. It was as if my soul became disjoined from my body. I felt so empty, unable to connect to anything. I remember sitting by the crematoria, and our teacher, Paul Liptz, picked up a small piece of human bone to show us. I asked to hold it; to this day, I cannot explain why. Perhaps I was hoping I’d cry. With the bone in my hand, I still felt empty. But I wondered who that person was, and how I would never know their story. For years I thought something was wrong with me—why wasn’t I in tears? Why couldn’t I feel anything? Years later I realized nothing was wrong with me. Sadness is not the only emotion one can feel in a place of unimaginable death. One can feel numb, hollow, empty.

Fast forward to May of 2024—I arrived in post-October 7th Israel with our group from Beth Tikvah. We had traveled to the Nova site—another place of death and evil. It is a park, a field, that was set up for a music festival. I felt hollow inside, but I recognized the feeling. I had only felt it once before. It was the same one I had felt 22 years earlier inside the gates of Auschwitz.

History echoes within our minds, stirring emotions that echo within our souls.

As a people, we return to the places of death and destruction because we are storytellers. We stand in those fields, and in the barracks, to bear witness and to emphatically say: we are still here.

Tonight, at Shabbat services, you will hear from Michelle Lee and Ben Reinicke, who recently returned from the March of the Living. Together with Jews from around the world, Holocaust survivors, and October 7th survivors, they marched on Yom HaShoah from Auschwitz. They visited many of the same places I did. Michelle and Ben will graduate high school in only a few short weeks, and they will carry this experience with them as they go off to college. Join us this evening to hear their insights.

In many ways, the March of the Living captures the essence of Jewish tradition. In each generation, we tell the story of our people. Whether we journey to Spain to learn about pre-expulsion Jewish life, or we visit Eastern Europe and immerse ourselves in a history that emerges through the ashes—wherever our people have traveled, the stories of sadness and reemergence follow us.

Another story is emerging this week. The Eurovision Song Contest is once again upon us. If you have not yet listened to Israel’s submission by Yuval Raphael, called New Day Will Rise, it is a must. Yuval Raphael is a Nova survivor. It is a powerful song that blends English, French, and Hebrew and is built on the story of the aftermath of October 7th, which echoes the story of our people.

Whether we listen to Michelle and Ben’s reflections tonight or Raphael’s beautiful song, we will rise, we will dance again, we will continue to tell the stories—because that is what we do as Jewish people!

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

May 4, 2025

How does one begin to reflect on eighteen years as a rabbi? For years, I was asked why I chose to become a rabbi? I became quite proficient at sharing the story about my rabbi, Phil Berger, of blessed memory invited me to meet with him before my junior year of high school. I had spent time that summer in Israel and several weeks at Kutz Camp, the NFTY Teen Leadership Academy. It wasn’t until 10 months later at the service honoring our synagogue’s seniors when he talked about the importance of being Jewish leaders, when I decided I wanted to be a rabbi. Fast forward 30 years from that summer and I look back on this first part of my rabbinic journey filled with abundant joy and blessings.

It has been the greatest honor to serve in two wonderful congregations, of course here at Beth Tikvah and at Temple Isaiah in Los Angeles. A day does not pass when I do not count my blessings for how lucky I have been over these years. I am filled with such gratitude for our staff, temple presidents, lay leaders, and congregants who make this community great. Each of you fill the work I do and my days with such holiness.

In thinking about these last eighteen years, I want to reflect on a few lessons I have learned along the way. As rabbis we spend so much of our work thinking about how we can bring meaning to people’s lives. We do this through education, prayer, meaningful programs. Over the years, I have created or co-created many different programs, and many have been great. Those programs are important as they are the steppingstones on which we walk from significant moment to significant moment. Being a rabbi is about helping to create meaning in those big moments; perhaps most importantly when people are vulnerable. The most sacred moments are those that I share with families at a B’nai Mitzvah celebration, a wedding, accompanying them through darkness of grief or when they are in need of healing. The programs are important but being present in these significant moments may be most important and sacred.

Judaism offers us a plethora of answers to a multitude of questions. Our tradition is a treasure trove of wisdom waiting for us to explore more of it. As a rabbi one of the most important things I can do is be a transmitter of our tradition. I recall first moving to Los Angeles in the days before GPS devices were a thing. We were still using Map Quest for most directions. When I arrived in LA, someone gifted me the famous Thomas Guide which was several hundred pages and contained a map of every street and neighborhood in Los Angeles County. You first looked up the street in the index of where you were going and then found it on the right page of the map. (Thank God for the GPS!) Part of being a rabbi is understanding where people are and when there is a question about Jewish life or wisdom, it is our responsibility to help connect them with answers. Years ago, I read a teaching from the Tzvat HaRivash which taught that if we have studied Torah during the day, it might bring us meaning as the lessons we learn might apply to our lives. As a rabbi, there are times when I need to be like the Thomas Guide or GPS helping to support us all on our journeys.

Lastly, the days following October 7th have taught me that Jewish Peoplehood and connecting to the core parts of our Jewish story enrich our lives and connect us to community. We are the sum of the stories we tell about ourselves. Each time we gather to celebrate Shabbat or a holiday, each time we gather to learn Torah, and each time come together as a community, we add to the stories. We are bound together by these stories which in some ways reminds us of the menorah that stood in the ancient Temple. The Torah tells us we are to light the lights regularly, tending to them until they light on their own. There is a fire that burns within each of our souls and every time we gather in community we tend to the flame of Jewish life.

I am so grateful to have served at Congregation Beth Tikvah for these past fourteen years and as a rabbi for the past eighteen. I am truly grateful to Debra, Zoe, and Shira who have shared this journey with me and been supportive every step of the way. Thank you all for being part of our extended family.

Rabbi Rick Kellner

May 2, 2025

Shabbat Shalom! As fires continue to rage around Route 1, the central highway connecting Tel Aviv and Jerusalem that cancelled the annual Yom Haaztmaut Torch ceremony along with other events, we know that there is much turmoil within the hearts and souls of Israelis. Other turmoil reminds us that there are just three days left to vote in the World Zionist Congress elections (if you count today.) I am grateful to our Beth Tikvah team, led by Hannah Karr, Rob Rosenberg, Liz Shafran, and Joanne Strasser, who have worked to get our Beth Tikvah voters. The significance of this election is only further underscored by events that took place earlier this week outside the Reform Synagogue in Ra’anana. It was Yom HaZikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day for fallen soldiers and terror victims. At Kehilat Ra’anan people had gathered for a screening of an Israeli-Palestinian joint memorial service when a violent mob of Israeli far right extremists disrupted the event. People were forced to exit the synagogue under police protection. Rocks were thrown at attendees, and several were injured. Men yelled at women who were gathered there saying, “Because of you, soldiers, die,” and “Too bad Hamas didn’t take you”. Protesters also screamed horrible words including “whore” and “Nazi.” There are videos of the awful things said by the rioters and other videos of a group of men chasing after a woman who had left the synagogue.

Kehilat Ra’anan has been vandalized before in 2010, 2014, and 2016 with slogans that ridiculed the Reform movement. In response, Rabbi Chen Ben-Or Tsfoni, the rabbi of the synagogue shared the following words, “It is natural, after such a night, to feel anger or even hatred. But we must resist. We must not let hatred claim our hearts. If we give in to that darkness, our Judaism – built on compassion – will be defeated…we must walk forward together, toward life, toward light.”

This synagogue is personal to Morissa Freiberg, our Director of Lifelong Learning and Education. When she traveled to Israel in January of 2017 on an educator’s trip with JewishColumbus, she attended Shabbat Morning services there. Experiencing Reform Judaism in action, Morissa was offered an Aliyah during the service which she has shared was profoundly meaningful.

Morissa’s story reminds us of our personal connections to events and places, even as they occur around the world. As I reflect on these moments, I am struck by how a day that is meant to be unifying and honor the memories of those who have fallen can turn to further deepen divisions that exist within Israeli society. This tragic moment underscores the importance of the World Zionist Congress Elections as we strive to turn out the vote to support Reform Jewish causes in Israel. As I have shared over the past two months, this vote will help allocate $5 billion in resources over the next five years. It is critical that you vote!

Next Shabbat when we read from the book of Leviticus, we will read the famous words, “V’ahavta l’rei-acha kamocha…love your neighbor as yourself.” A friend recently shared with me the image of a bus in Israel in which the window reads, “V’ahavta l’rei-acha kamocha…gam im lo kamocha…love your neighbor as yourself, even if he is not like you.” 

What fitting words for a moment such as this! These words reflect the essence and the values that Reform Judaism brings to the world. One would think they would also be values inherent to all ways of practicing Judaism. Clearly the religious right has different ideas. Rabbi Tsfoni’s words can be our guiding light as we move forward. Hatred will only darken the pathway before us, whereas filling out hearts with kindness, compassion, and light, will only make us stronger. If you have not voted, the time is now. Please do not delay any longer. Go to www.zionistelection.org and VOTE REFORM today!

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner