Rabbi's Blog

Looking Back on the Holy Days The High Holy Days have a way of flying by. The staff and volunteers at TKC spend months preparing, and then, almost before we know it, the final shofar blast sounds and we're breaking the fast. Before this season slips into memory, I want to say thank you and share a few moments from what we talked about together. Thank You Our High Holy Days are only possible because of so many people. Many of them have already been thanked elsewhere in this is

Rabbi Akiva teaches us to build. Rabbi Eliezer teaches us to notice what we didn't build. We need both.

Kol Nidrei Sermon 5787 A few weeks ago, I hopped on my bike and went for a ride all the way up to the eastern Tennessee Mountains. It was fantastic. Huge, rolling mountains and valleys that stretched for miles, rushing streams and lakes and blue skies with just enough clouds that it would have made a perfect muse for an artist. Riding around the twisting roads of the mountains, each new turn could unfold into a view that seemed to go on forever. I thought of Psalm 121, “Es

Not perfect. Not just fine, either. As good as we're actually capable of being — which, it turns out, for most of us, most years, is quite a lot.

Here’s one of the things that really struck me in the days, weeks and months that followed - how very different people could be from one another. The most extreme examples were the hijackers who were ready to die so that they could murder other people that they had never met before, and then the firefighters that raced towards the towers, towards the danger to do the opposite - to save people that they had never met before. The stark contrast between villain and hero is ra

When a human king mints a coin, they're exactly alike. Not so when God mints a person — we're all in the image of Adam, yet each unique. When I want to spend time with my wife, my kids, my friends, I don't want just any human being, and I don't want a computer. I want those specific people. We can mean more to each other than a computer ever could, because we offer our unique souls.

We can’t let our Judaism just be in response to whatever is happening on the news. As I write this, it’s the middle of the month of Elul, the period leading up to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. So being Jewish “today” means being a Jew entering the High Holy Days. It is a time to reflect on who we’ve been and who we want to be, as Jews and as people. May our reflections and our answers to those questions lead us to a good year ahead. Shanah Tovah.

All the things that b’nai mitzvah do, such as reading Torah or giving a d’var Torah, are significant in part because those are things that adults do. So, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, can take on those big roles, too.. not only does it not take away from the child’s moment, it makes it more special. It shows that becoming b’nai mitzvah is the beginning, not the end.

We're entering Elul now, the month of reflection before the Days of Awe, and soon after, Sukkot, our harvest festival, of gathering in what was planted long before this season began. As we plant this fall, in our yards and in our lives, may we have the wisdom to plant some things for now, and the faith to plant other things for a future, even if there’s no guarantee on what that future may hold.

Any honest accounting of what America has meant has to include this: for people like my own family, and for millions of others, it was a place of refuge and opportunity, a place of freedom in every sense of the word. It's the reason I exist to be standing here saying any of this at all.

And for those in this room who have spent years — sometimes a whole lifetime — being asked to explain yourselves. To justify your love, your identity, your sense of self, to people who held the power to include or exclude you, to people who thought they had the right to judge. I want to say this directly: this is your community. I don't even know that I can say "we accept you," or “we love you,” because "we" includes you. You are a part of us. This is your home.

I’m writing this column on May 12, exactly four days after Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati ordained its final four rabbis. A couple of years ago, Hebrew Union College’s leadership decided to close the Graduate School and sunset the rabbinic program in Cincinnati. That decision has now become reality. Four students in a class, of course, is not sustainable — though it dropped that low only after school leaders let it be known that they were considering closing the program.

The Passover Seder is one of the most powerful rituals of the Jewish year. Gathered around a table with friends, family or a bit of both, we share the story of how a group of slaves in Egypt came to be the Israelites. We share the earliest memories of our people and combine them with the lessons that have been learned. And then we eat a delicious meal whose ingredients (and lack of certain ingredients) reinforce our stake in the whole thing. The Seder is what Rabbi Lawrence H

Chanukah is often described as the “Festival of Lights,” but its deeper meaning can sometimes get lost behind familiar rituals and stories. This year, I wanted to step back and ask a simple question: what does Chanukah really celebrate? In the video below, I explore Chanukah through classical Jewish sources, focusing on Jewish identity, cultural encounter, and the challenge of remaining rooted and visible in a broader world. Rather than comparing Chanukah to other holidays, t

Chanukah arrives this year at a moment when many are feeling the weight of darkness. Around the world, Jews are facing a rise in antisemitism. Since October 7, 2023 and throughout the war that followed, our community and others have carried grief, fear, anger, and exhaustion. And yet, right in the middle of the darkest weeks of the year, Judaism gives us a festival built entirely around light. Chanukah is not only about resistance to tyrants. It is also about the upside of J

This D’var Torah explores the themes of Toledot through the lens of Thanksgiving: how gratitude creates abundance, how Isaac’s family struggles with a mindset of scarcity, and how the wells of Rechovot offer a vision of spaciousness and blessing. Immediately following the teaching, Kyra shares a beautiful rendition of “Teach Your Children,” adding another layer of reflection on legacy, hope, and the world we pass on to the next generation.

When the rains finally stop, what comes next? In Parashat Noach, a rainbow becomes God’s promise of renewal after devastation. In this sermon, Rabbi Jason Holtz explores how that ancient symbol of hope still speaks to us today—through faith, resilience, and the longing for something “over the rainbow.” Featuring a moving rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” performed by Kyra, this video blends timeless Torah wisdom with the power of music and community.

The world can feel like it’s flooding — with noise, pressure, and confusion. Parashat Noach reminds us that we can’t always stop the waters, but we can build our own arks: spaces of steadiness, purpose, and faith amid the chaos.

A few days ago, our sukkah partially blew over. I noticed it from our kitchen window one morning, getting breakfast ready. The wooden beams across the roof, the roof itself, and one of the walls collapsed. It happened overnight, when the wind picked up. By morning, it looked like our Sukkot would have had a sukkah for just the first half. Our sukkah was reduced to just a tangle of poles and fabric on the ground. But less than an hour later, it was standing again. Actually,

Just because something is temporary, doesn't mean it isn't holy.