Creating a Caring Community
Rosh Hashanah 5767, September 23, 2006
Rabbi Bruce Kadden

In 2000, Harvard Professor Robert D. Putnam published an intriguing book called Bowling Alone:  The Collapse and Revival of American Community.  Based on a quarter century of research, Putnam demonstrated how we Americans have become increasingly disconnected from family, friends, neighbors, and our democratic structures.  He concluded that our stock of social capital, the connections that we have with one another, have significantly decreased, impoverishing our lives and our communities. 

Social capital develops as a result of social networks:  neighborhoods, houses of worship, schools, civic clubs, book clubs, trade unions, anything that brings people together for a common purpose.  As a result of the cooperation, friendship, trust and relationships of these social networks, the participants benefit, and so does the general community.  When these networks become weak or disappear altogether, individuals and society suffer.

Professor Putnam found that although more Americans are bowling than ever before, they are not participating in leagues, but are Bowling Alone.  So?  What is the difference between bowling alone and with others?  Why does it matter?  Because more important than the bowling, of greater value than the particular activity, are the relationships formed, the social interaction, and the caring and trust that develops.

“Bowling Alone” became a symbol, a metaphor for contemporary society, where independence has replaced cooperation and individuality has replaced community.  We used to know all of our neighbors; now we are lucky if we know anyone in the neighborhood.  It was not unusual for someone to live one’s entire life in the same community; now it rarely happens.

One of the first things people would do when moving to a new community is to find a place of worship.  The Pacific Northwest, however, has been identified by Professor Patricia Killen of Pacific Lutheran University and others as the “None-zone,” n-o-n-e, because when asked for religious affiliation, a plurality of people choose “none of the above.”

Jews are no exception.  We are a mobile people, picking up and moving at the drop of a yalmulke.  It used to be when you walked into the synagogue you would know everyone.  There would of course be a few new faces each year, but they quickly were welcomed and integrated into the community. 

Many people who have been here 15, 20, even 25 years, tell me how welcomed they felt when they first came here.  Sometimes it was one particular family that took them under their wings and made them feel at home; at other times it was just the general welcome they received from the community.

The synagogue was a family and when anyone needed help, everyone knew about it and responded in kind.  And the same story was replicated in synagogues throughout the country. 

Last evening I introduce our congregational theme for the year:  becoming a K’hillah K’dosha, a holy community, and spoke about how a synagogue does this as a house of prayer, a house of study and a house of gathering. 

But of all the purposes of the synagogue, of everything we do, there is none more important at this time than being a caring community.  We can have the most inspiring worship services, the best educational programs, and enjoyable community gatherings, but unless we are able to develop meaningful relationships, unless we are prepared to reach out to one another in times of need, then we cannot become a k’hillah k’dosha.  This morning, I want to speak about how we can become a caring community.

Once upon a time, when Jews walked into their synagogues they knew almost everyone.  They didn’t always get along with one another, but they knew each other.  Now, more often than not, the old timers will comment to me how many new faces they see when they come to Temple. 

This remark is sometimes made with a sense of joy that there is new blood in the synagogue, sometimes with a sense of inevitability that it is just the way it is, but often with at least a tinge of resentment, as if to say “I don’t feel like it is my synagogue anymore.”  Such feelings are understandable.  We want to feel at home when we come here.  We want not only to be familiar with the prayers and melodies, but with the people sitting next to us.  We don’t want to feel like a stranger in our own home.

The first challenge to creating a caring community is simply to get to know one another.  We started the process a few years ago by providing name tags so that the Temple would at least be a place where everyone knows your name.  But there is a difference between knowing someone’s name and knowing someone. 

It is not enough to know someone’s name, to wish each other Shabbat shalom or L’shana tova or to say hello at the oneg.  It is a good start, but not enough.  We must make the effort to get to know the members of our community. 

I have to confess that although I have been here more than two years now, there are still members that I don’t really know.  We might have met once or twice, but have not had a chance to really sit down and talk with each other.  That is something that I am truly sorry about, and hope to rectify during the coming year.

I ask each of you, also, to try and do the same.  Make it a point to introduce yourself to those you do not know and find the opportunity get to know them.  If you are at an oneg, don’t always sit with the same people, but seek out an unfamiliar face and say hello.  And when you meet someone who is new to our congregation and community, introduce them to your friends.

I also want to encourage you to participate in temple programs which are designed to bring members of our community together.  Dinners for Seven, for example, is an opportunity to meet other people in a relaxed, social environment and enjoy a good meal together.

Joining a havurah is another opportunity to join with members of our community on a regular basis.  The havurah is one of the great developments in the modern Jewish world, bringing together families to share Jewish holidays, social activities, and other interests.  Temple Beth El has a number of havurot that have been in existence for many years with families often forming close, lasting friendships that go well beyond the havurah and the synagogue.  Some of these havurot are looking for new members.  And we are also committed to creating new havurot of those who want to pursue a common interest with other members of our community.  (Flyers/October bulletin)

Getting to know each other is the first step toward creating a caring community, but it is not enough.  We have to learn to be sensitive to each other’s needs and to be ready and willing to help each other deal with the many challenges we face. 

The special Torah reading for the first day of Rosh Hashanah tells of the conflict that emerges in Abraham’s family following the birth of his son, Isaac.  Sarah is not at all pleased that Isaac’s older brother, Ishmael, is still around, apparently tormenting Isaac, so she tells Abraham to get rid of Hagar and her son.  Although the matter greatly bothers Abraham, God encourages him to follow Sarah’s desire.  God apparently wants to preserve shalom bayit, peace between Abraham and Sarah. 

So, Abraham sends Hagar and Ishmael away with some bread and water, but the water soon runs out.  Hagar, who can’t bear seeing her son die, leaves him under a bush, sits down at a distance, and weeps for her dying son.

God, hearing the cry of the boy, sends an angel to Hagar.  The text tells us that “God has heard the cry of the boy where he is.”  The rabbis were puzzled by this text.  Of course God would hear the cry of the boy where he is.  Where else would God hear him?  This apparently unnecessary phrase must have a special meaning, according to the rabbis. It implies that we must respond to a person’s needs here and now.

When we hear the cries of our fellow human beings we must respond.  Sometimes these cries are audible, we actually hear them, but sometimes they are silent.  Sometimes these cries are visible, we actually see them, but sometimes they are invisible.  Being able to identify the cries, whether we can hear them or see them or not, is the first step to reaching out and responding to those in need.

After the angel reassures Hagar, the text tells us that God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water.  Note, that it doesn’t say that God made a well of water appear, rather that God made it possible for Hagar to see the well of water.  It was always there, but until God called it to her attention, she was not able to see it.

Similarly, we can reach out to those in need, to help them see what they are not able to see, to help them hear what they may not be able to hear.  We can let them know that someone cares and that there is help.  We, of course, cannot solve their problems for them, but we can help them take the first step on the path toward a solution.  Each of us has the ability to do so if we open our ears to their cry.

On a practical level, there are many opportunities for each of us to lend support to those in our community who need it.  Most of us already do this.  We visit those we know when they are sick.  We attend a shiva minyan.  We make a meal for a family.  We offer someone a ride to services or to the doctor.  Doing these mitzvot comes naturally to many of us.  We don’t have to be asked.

Yet, there are times when there are needs, but no one responds.  It may be someone who is a new member of the community and has not made a lot of friends yet, or someone who is a long-time community member, but not as active as he or she once was.  It may be someone who is reluctant to ask for help or someone who doesn’t know who to ask.

A subcommittee of Tikkun Olam has decided that it is time to become proactive and again create a network of people to help each other at times of need.  We are asking each of you to make a pledge, not of your money (that was last night), but of your time to be available to help members of our community in their times of need.  When needs arise among members of our community, we want to be sure that we respond as a caring community.

When you entered the sanctuary this morning, you should have received a Caring Community pledge form.  On this form you can indicate your willingness to help out in a variety of ways:

--by being available for a shiva minyan;

--by making a meal for a family whose lives have been disrupted by illness or death;

--by offering someone a ride to services;

--by calling someone on occasion to say hello;

--by visiting someone in the hospital or at home.

Simply indicate which of these mitzvot you would be willing to do on an occasional basis and return the forms in the boxes which are in the foyer and the rotunda.  We will compile the responses by geographic area and when the need arises, one of the members of the committee will contact you and ask you to fulfill your pledge.  It is as simple as that.  You might get a call to help in a few weeks, a few months, in a year, or, if the need does not arise, perhaps not at all.

But we want to be sure that when anyone in our community has a need in one of these areas that we are able to meet that need.  We want to reach out to one another to show that we care.  We want to create a truly caring community.

I also want to encourage you to let me know if there is someone in the community who might need help.  I promise to contact the person discretely and sensitively determine if they want some help.   

And I also want to encourage you to let me know when you need some help.  Many of us have a tendency to be independent, to do things for ourselves.  We don’t want to rely on others.  We don’t want to ask for help. 

Sometimes, though, being independent is not a sign of strength, but a sign of weakness.  Let us help you when you need help.  Let us do a mitzvah.  Let us reach out.

Creating a caring community cannot solve all of the challenges of contemporary society.  In and of itself it will not break down our isolation from each other.  But it is a place to start.  And with each person who is helped, with every person who feels more a part of our family, we move one step closer to becoming a k’hillah k’dosha, a holy community.

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