Congratulations to

Chris & Robert Adler

  • Narrow screen resolution
  • Wide screen resolution
  • Decrease font size
  • Default font size
  • Increase font size
Home From the Rabbi
From the Rabbi
From the Rabbi - April 2017 PDF Print E-mail

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again!” In many ways this could be the moto of the Jewish approach to text and prayer.  In a world in which we tend to want the new and the latest innovation, Judaism likes to go back to the classics and remind us of eternal truths.  Even in the Reform and Conservative movements, in which we like to be creative and dynamic in our ritual practice and philosophy of Judaism, we are always rooted in the texts and prayers that have been the cornerstones of our people’s lives for centuries, if not millennia.  Perhaps this is why we return again and again to the same stories in the Torah and recite the same prayers at our regular prayer services – we understand that we may not succeed in grasping all that that we can learn and experience of those texts in one go, or even in one lifetime.  Every time we delve back into the study of our texts we are continually trying again and again to find greater depth and meaning in these great writings that are our inheritance. 

And one of the greatest texts to which we return again and again every year is the Haggadah of Passover, retelling the story of the Exodus from Egypt.  Surely, we may think we know this story.  We have heard it many times.  What could we possibly learn from it now after so many repeated readings?  The answer of course is that no matter how many times we read it there will always be more to learn.  Partly this is because the text is rich and deep and varied, full of details we may not see until we have read it many times.  And partly it is because as we grow older and our lives change and we experience and read things differently.  As my daughter gets older I am introducing her to many of the books, movies, and TV shows  I loved as a child, and experiencing them again.  As I do so I see new messages and nuances that I could never have understood as a child but do now because of the experiences I have had in my life.  Every year we return to the Haggadah text and every year we are different and so our experience of the seder is different. 

And, of course, we return again and again to the same text of the Haggadah and the same story of the Exodus because some truths need to be told and retold until we truly get them right!  Human nature is such that  it is often easy to forget these lessons when we do not continually return to them to refresh our connection with our tradition.  We need to hear the stories again and again to truly understand them and to truly ingrain them as part of our lives.  We need to be reminded every year that we are part of a great tradition that has helped us survive and thrive as Jews for thousands of years.  And we must each year remind ourselves that this great tradition began in slavery and oppression, so that we never become arrogant and entitled.  It reminds us to never forget that our tradition is great because it reminds  us year after to year to remember what it was like to be slaves in Egypt, to be downtrodden and thus to conduct our lives with compassion and in pursuit of justice for all.  

           Rabbi Ilan Emanuel

From the Rabbi - March 2017 PDF Print E-mail

The old joke is that Jewish festivals can be defined as “They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” On Purim we might also add “drink and be merry!” In the Book of Esther, Mordechai declares the new festival by sending a letter to the Jews of the empire “to observe the fourteenth day of the month of Adar and the fifteenth day, every year – the days on which the Jews obtained rest from their enemies and the month which for them was turned from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday.” According to the Talmud, therefore, the month of Adar, in which Purim occurs, is a month in which we “increase with joy.”

But in a way this seems a bit odd.  Certainly we would be naturally happy to have survived such a threat to the Jewish people.  But the obvious emotional response would seem to be relief rather than joy.  Our ancestors celebrated out of relief, to let off steam from all the pent up anxiety born of fear that they would be killed by Haman.  But after that, for subsequent years, it might be expected that the commemoration of a near genocide of the Jewish people would be more subdued.  Why would the festival enshrine that momentary joy as the essential element of this festival for all time?

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, the former Chief Rabbi of Great Britain and the Commonwealth, argues that the joy of Purim and the month of Adar is a therapeutic joy.  He notes: “The Jewish response to trauma is counterintuitive and extraordinary. You defeat fear by joy. You conquer terror by collective celebration. You prepare a festive meal, invite guests, give gifts to friends… Precisely because the threat was so serious, you refuse to be serious – and in that refusal you are doing something very serious indeed. You are denying your enemies a victory. You are declaring that you will not be intimidated. As the date of the scheduled destruction approaches, you surround yourself with the single most effective antidote to fear: joy in life itself.”

This is an important message that reminds us that, no matter how dark the world seems to be, our response should be to increase joy for ourselves and for all around us.  As we look at a world that is often scary and worrying in many ways and, as we hear of very troubling ant-Semitic incidents around the United States and the world, we take the lessons of Mordechai after the awful threats we survived in the Book of Esther and apply them in advance to the problems of our time.  We declare that we will commit ourselves to hope and joy rather than fear and dread. 

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov taught: “It is a great mitzvah to be happy always… Strengthen yourself to push aside all… sadness. Everyone has lots of problems and the nature of humanity is to be attracted to sadness. To escape these difficulties, constantly bring joy into your life—even if you have to resort to silliness.”

Purim is silly and joyous.  But it is not simply frivolous and fun. It is a genuine and hopeful response to darkness and fear in in our lives and in our world.  When we celebrate Purim it is not just a celebration of a festival (as important as that may be) but a profound statement of resilience and life. 

Have a joyful Purim! 
Rabbi Ilan Emanuel

From the Rabbi - February 2017 PDF Print E-mail
Two stories of the Chassidic Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev:
On his way to synagogue one Saturday morning, Rabbi Levi Yitchak met a Jew smoking on Shabbat.  “Surely” the Rebbe asked, “You have forgotten that today is Shabbat?” “No” replied the man, “I remember.”  “Then,” stated the Rebbe, “you obviously didn’t know that the law forbids smoking on Shabbat?” “No, I know that too,” he replied.”  The Rebbe looked to the heavens and said to God: “True, he violates the laws of Shabbat.  But you must admit one thing: nothing can make him tell a lie!”
One day while walking Rabbi Levi Yitchak was hit in the head by a garbage can.  After thorough investigation he found that the culprit was the wife of a vicious critic of Chassidic Judaism. “Don’t be angry with her God,” implored the rabbi, “she was only trying please her husband!”
I love these stories not just because they show a rather humorous side to usually serious genre of Chassidic stories, but because they point to an important truth.  Sometimes we think that to be truly honest and to tell the truth means being negative.  We think it’s easy to be positive and nice but telling the truth means being critical.  But actually it’s very easy to be negative, to let our negative emotions – anger, fear, frustration –drive us to say things that are hurtful, things that are critical of ourselves and others.  It’s easy to dismiss others because they get in our way or to demean others because of a trait we find annoying or frustrating. 
But what Rabbi Levi Yizchak of Berdichev teaches us is that truth is both positive and negative.  To be truly honest one must be willing to see both the good and the bad in all things.  When we seem to be favoring the positive we must force ourselves to look at the negative however unpleasant.  But the opposite is also true.  When we find ourselves looking negatively upon others or even upon ourselves, we should always do as Rabbi Levi Yitchak of Berdichev did and be as honest in our praise as we are in our criticism. The person we find most difficult in our lives, may also have traits that deserve praise.  It’s easy when we are angry or impatient forget this, but these stories remind us that it is our duty to be as honest about the good in others and in ourselves as we are about the bad. 

Rabbi Ilan Emanuel

From the Rabbi - January 2017 PDF Print E-mail
January 2017 -  Hope

This year Chanukah and the secular New Year overlapped which is apt considering the themes of both celebrations are quite similar.  Both are about hope.  On Chanukah we celebrate the hope of a small band of rebel Jews fighting against a mighty empire for their right to live as Jews and the hope of light in the darkness of the winter.  And on the secular New Year – as with the Jewish New Year - we hope for renewal, looking forward to a year in which we can turn over a new leaf and in which the difficulties we have faced in the past year may give way to hope for something better in the new. 

Hope is sometimes dismissed in our modern world as a rather “fuzzy” virtue.  The business adage: “Hope is not a business plan,” suggests the reason why.  Hope gives the impression of being an exercise in magical thinking, a belief that if one only hopes hard enough everything will turn out for the better. But in the eyes of many it lacks specificity, practicality and realism. 

But hope is an essential part of Jewish tradition and history – hope for an end of exile, hope for victory over the Greek empire, hope for the return to Zion and the establishment of the modern State of Israel.  Indeed Israel’s national anthem is Hatikvah, the “hope” and every time we sing it we declare “od lo avdah tikvatenu”, ‘our hope is not yet lost.’  And our future is also based on hope, the hope of a messianic age in which all the problems of the world will be swept away and all will be made right under the rule of G-d. 

Hope is not magic, but it is incredibly powerful, able to give meaning even in the darkest times.  Rabbi Hugo Gryn told of his experiences in Auschwitz.  One day in the middle of winter they realized that it was Chanukah.  His father, with whom he shared a bunk, decided to make a makeshift Chanukah menorah from scrap metal, using some butter as oil to burn.  Hugo protested that the butter should not be wasted in such a way and that surely the butter could be better used to feed someone.  “Hugo,” said his father, “both you and I know that a person can live a very long time without food. But Hugo, I tell you, a person cannot live a single day without hope. This Menorah is the fire of hope. Never let it go out. Not here. Not anywhere.”

Hope cannot fix all things.  But hope can raise our spirits even in the midst of darkness and it can inspire us to do what needs to be done to help make the world better despite all odds.  Hope keeps us going so that, faced with what the world is, we never give up on creating the world as it should and could be in this secular New Year and beyond.

Rabbi Ilan Emanuel

From the Rabbi - December 2016 PDF Print E-mail

At the heart of the celebration of Chanukah is the celebration of a miracle.  But which miracle are we celebrating?  The obvious answer is the miracle of light, the miracle of the holy oil by which the light of the menorah in the rededicated Temple in Jerusalem lasted eight days instead of one.  But a small band of Jews defeating a mighty empire is just as miraculous in its own way and for many Jews in history this was the real miracle to celebrate on Chanukah. 

In Jewish thought there are two ways of understanding miracles that correspond with the two miracles that are part of the Chanukah story.  One is a public miracle, a miracle in which the laws of nature are broken in a way that points those who see it to the reality of G-d’s power.  The miracle of lights was such a miracle.  But our tradition also proposes another kind of miracle, one in which apparent natural phenomena occur in a way which suggests that events were guided by a higher divine power. The miracle of a small weak group of Jews defeating the mighty Greeks despite all odds could arguably, understood in this way.   What is remarkable, considering the central focus on the miracle of lights in our modern way of celebrating Chanukah, is that the special prayer recalling the miracles of Chanukah (Al Hanissim) that is added to the Amidah during Chanukah focusses on the miracle of defeating the Greeks against all odds and not the miracle of light. 

Perhaps the reason for this is that, while the miracle of light is beautiful and meaningful, it is somewhat removed from the experience of our daily lives.  None of us are likely to experience an obvious supernatural miracle in which the very laws of nature are overturned.  But how many of us might experience the possibility of the divine working in our lives?  Perhaps all of us have done so even if we don’t realize it.   

In focusing on the less obvious kind of miracle, the Al Hanissim prayer conveys an important lesson.  If miracles are extraordinary events that happens to us, divinely bestowed and entirely out of our control, then we are passive in how we interact with the miraculous and the divine.  But if miracles are things that happen in daily life even if we do not see it at the time, then we can and should be more active in how we react to the world around us.  This idea reminds us to be more open to the presence of the divine in the world and suggests that we can be an active part of making the miraculous happen in our daily lives. 

In the words of Rabbi David Hartman, “What appears as fate, the necessity of a small people subject to an invulnerable empire is revealed as an illusion.  The language of the biblical miracle is the Bible’s way of undermining the acquiescence of humans to the “way things have to be.”…Belief in miracles is the basis of the “hope model” of Judaism… (Rabbi David Hartman).  When we believe that miracles are all around us, we can believe that there is always hope for the future, and that we can be part of making that hope a reality in the world.

Happy Chanukah!  

Rabbi Ilan Emanuel


<< Start < Prev 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Next > End >>

Page 7 of 24


Like our Facebook Page


Religious Services

Due to COVID-19, in-person services at CBI have been cancelled until further notice.

Virtual Shabbat Services
Fridays @ 6:30pm CST
Saturdays @ 9:00am CST

This week, Services will be held on
CBI's public Facebook Page

Weekly Shabbat Services are held online via  CBI's Member only Facebook page. 



Administrator Login

Login is only available to administrators at this time.

Who's Online

We have 10 guests online