It is truly a privilege to be a rabbi. It is particularly a privilege to be a rabbi at CBT, which, believe me, is an extraordinary community. But all rabbis are called upon to participate in the deepest, most meaningful experiences that people have. Naming a daughter. Entering a son into brit milah. Guiding children as they become adults. Dancing with Ruth-Ann z”l at bnai mitzvah celebrations. Bringing loving partners together in kiddushin, literally “holy,” matrimony. Helping the elderly leave a legacy they can be proud of. Listening with sacred intensity when people struggle with illness and seek healing of soul and body. And being there, at the very last moments, to help perform a mitzvah of chesed v’emet when a soul returns to its heavenly source.

It’s all very wonderful and moving. You could write a book. In fact, as many of you know, I am. But of all these and many more experiences, there is nothing like watching a righteous convert, a ger tzedek, have an aliyah for the very first time. In that moment, there is a transformation that takes place. They are holding on to the Torah—their Torah—and blessing G-d, their G-d, “Who has chosen us from among the nations”. At that very moment, the convert experiences for the first time what it means to be part of “us,” and it is almost always overwhelming.

Tears flow.

Ironically, this is an experience most of “us” never have. Our first aliyah comes when we are 13, relieved that we have no more bar mitzvah lessons, and thinking about the party to come. The only exception to this rule, I might add, is when women who had been excluded from the bimah are welcomed for the first time—and that alone is justification for being an egalitarian synagogue. But for most of us, that is not what we experience. In fact, if you are an motfb—“member of the tribe from birth”—it’s real easy to take your Judaism for granted. Survey after survey has shown that for the vast majority of us, being Jewish is something dramatically different from what our righteous converts experience. High on the list are remembering the Holocaust, having a good sense of humor, and enjoying nostalgic feelings about matzah balls and Bubbe lighting candles.

These things are Jewish, to be sure. But what exactly do they have to do with Judaism? And that leads us to the question for the day: what are we doing here? Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan, a towering figure of both the Conservative and Reconstructionist movements, pressed the point that Judaism is a civilization, and not only a religion. Every aspect of Jewish life—Jewish food, Jewish music, Jewish art, as well as every activity in which Jews wished to be engaged—basketball, bridge, mahjong, bowling, swimming—had a legitimate place at what was intended to be, literally, a Jewish Community Center.

Hence, the classic “shul with a pool.”

And don’t get me wrong—I agree with Rabbi Kaplan, and will vigorously support almost anything that a bunch of Jews would like to do together, from poetry to pickleball. But…But…Somehow that doesn’t seem to be…adequate. We haven’t survived for 4,000 years by being an activity center, no matter how elaborate and multi-faceted. Sinai is not a social club.

Here’s a better explanation of what we are doing here. Reflecting my own experiences of the convert’s passion, I would like to share with you the declaration of faith made by a convert as they become Jewish. And as I read, ask yourself if you could make the same declaration:

“I hereby affirm…my commitment to the G-d of Israel, the torah of Israel, and the people of Israel.

I pray that my present conviction may guide me through life, that I may be worthy of the sacred tradition and community which I now join. As I am thankful for the privileges thus bestowed upon me, I pray that I always remain conscious of the obligations that are mine as a member of the House of Israel.

Today I hereby pledge myself to live the Jewish way of holiness, by accepting the mitzvot of Judaism now and always, here and wherever I may be. In preparation for this moment, I have sought both to infuse my life with Jewish values and to create a distinctively Jewish atmosphere in my home. Specifically, I declare that I have determined, to the best of my ability, to make the following Jewish observances an integral part of both my life and that of my family:

  • By giving [my] children a quality Jewish education
  • By making Shabbat and Jewish holidays important moments of holiness in my home and by opening my home to others so that I may become G-d’s partner in sharing the holiness of sacred time with those who are searching or in need.
  • By enhancing my observance of Shabbat and Jewish holidays by lighting candles, reciting Kiddush and Birkat Hamazon, and performing other rituals distinctive for each holy day;
  • By incorporating kashrut into my life and by sharing my bread with others who are hungry;
  • By affiliating with the Jewish people through a synagogue and attending religious services.
  • By remembering those who are ill and visiting them.
  • By participating in the life of the Jewish community through supporting religious and communal institutions in Israel and the Diaspora and by dedicating my life to making this world a better place in which to live, for all people.
  • By identifying with the State of Israel, the Jewish homeland, the center of Jewish hopes and aspirations;
  • By engaging in Jewish study on a continuing basis.

I pray that in all these ways, I may continue to grow in the love of Judaism and find blessing because of my decision to become one with the Jewish people. By joining Judaism and the Jewish people, may I add my willing heart and hands to our eternal task of being G-d’s partners in seeking to perfect the world under G-d’s universal sovereignty.

Shma Yisrael….”

My friends, that is what converts pledge. So I ask you, when was the last time you said what they say? When did you last pray “that I may be worthy of the sacred tradition and community to which I, by virtue of birth, belong?”

How conscious are you of “the obligations that are yours as a member of the House of Israel?”

How often have you renewed your pledge “to live the Jewish way of holiness?”

When did you last express a wish to “grow in your love of Judaism?”

And finally, when did you last pledge “your willing heart and hands to your eternal task of being G-d’s partner?”

That, my friends, is above all else what we are doing here. And if we do it, everything else will follow in its wake.

In today’s Torah reading, the topic is the Akedah, the binding of Isaac on the altar. Our rabbis waxed eloquent on Isaac’s mesirat nefesh, his willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of our faith.

Our faith. It is our faith that has been, is, and always will be at the core of our community. It is the expression of that faith, the exploration of that faith, the exultation of that faith, that explains what we are doing here. Everything else is a mere adornment. As much as we enjoy playing corn hole, pub crawling, and doing the wobble dance, no one has ever put themselves on the altar for them—and no one ever will.

At the end of the day, what matters is not what you would give your life for. What matters is what you would live your life for. To that end, I will make available to the whole congregation the Convert’s Declaration of Faith, in the hope that you will periodically review it and be renewed by it, and be reminded that our challenge is to lift ourselves above the world of trivialities, see the mountain that G-d shows us, and climb it—for G-d’s sake and ours.

In conclusion I pray, my dear friends, that in the coming year we have the privilege of climbing the mountain of our faith together.

Ken yehi ratzon.