Positive things have happened over the past two years.  Many new people have moved into our community- mostly young but some older, and some who left town during the pandemic for other cities have moved back, realizing they could not find in the bigness of Jewish life in New York what they had in the relatively close knit community of Kesher.  The Shul has made strides of which it could only dream for decades, such as acquiring land for potential expansion and funding for additional staff.   The community has pivoted countless times, creatively navigating around Covid to accommodate as many of its members as possible at such events as Purim Megillah readings, outdoor Yom Haatzmaut and Lag B’omer celebrations, High Holiday services in hotels, children’s groups, Sukkah events, Shavuot inside and out, and so much more, working to accommodate the diverse array of our constituents and their extremely varied, and ever changing pandemic comfort levels.

But…..

When I think back in my mind’s eye to the diversity and throng of our congregation in the years before Covid, when I picture Kiddush on Shabbat in the shoulder to shoulder social hall- a different demographic in each corner with its own bottle of whisky- laughing, celebrating community, Shul and Shabbat together, I am melancholy.  We are still a diverse array of ages on Shabbat in Shul but it’s not as crowded and it’s not as chronologically diverse as it used to be.  A number of our congregants, both old and young, have not returned due to Covid or inertia or both, and over the past two years 15 or so families moved to the greener backyard pastures of the Maryland suburbs.

I imagined that after a few years, as Covid waned, we would return back to things as they were.  But now that the pandemic has become, according to some, an ongoing endemic, whose severity is gauged not by transmission rates, which may be high at times, but by the general severity of illness (American Medical Association, April 1, 2022, “How we will know when COVID-19 has become endemic” by Marc Zarefsky), we, as yet, have not fully returned.

I am beginning a listening campaign.  I am contacting our members, especially those who used to be regular Shul goers but have not returned in a regular way, to hear from them.   Though over the pandemic I checked in with most of our members every few months to see how they were, now my agenda is different.  I want to know how they see Shul and community, what their religious, communal and spiritual needs are and how we can best meet them.  Is the pandemic keeping them home on Shabbat?   Is it the comfort of home?  A new found spirituality practiced in the forest instead of the sanctuary?

No doubt like any individual or community Kesher Israel has faced ups and downs, the natural waxing and waning of numbers, intensity, and inspiration.  But we are still a community.  If I have not been in touch with you to meet yet, feel free to reach out to me.  I want to hear from all of the members of our community.

Only by listening to you, only, like in this week’s Torah portion, by re-counting each of us and reiterating the profound value of having each of us counted and present, if not in body then at least in conversation and in spirit, can we move toward a more redemptive and unified state.  Indeed, as the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, in our Torah portion stands at the center of our people radiating Divine life to all, each of you, the presence and the unity of our community and each of its members, is the vital heart which beats at the center of Kesher Israel.