Having read (in pre-publication) Esther Brill’s piece on “Comfort, Connection, and Community” in this Bulletin, I am inspired to share some related alliterative thoughts— in this my last article as Temple Sinai President— on exuberance, exhaustion, and expeditions.

I feel a mix of exuberance and exhaustion as my three years as Temple President approaches an end on June 30. I am exuberant about our congregation, the wonderful people who volunteer, and the enriching services and programming that take place in our beautiful sanctuary and facility. At the same time, I am exhausted after an extended term working alongside our clergy, office staff, and lay leaders to keep up with everyday Temple business. It has been especially challenging to do so during the extraordinary crises of the covid pandemic, horrific atrocity of October 7, and ensuing war and worldwide spike in antisemitism. I am so grateful for everything that these dedicated people have done for our congregation during these difficult times.

These dual sensibilities (exuberance and exhaustion) are similar to those I experienced decades ago when I led wilderness expeditions. My shtetl-born grandparents would have surely been dumbfounded by this experience. They might have said (in Yiddush), “Nu, why spend a month at a time in remote mountains rather than training to be a doctor, a lawyer, or an accountant? This is meshuge!” Although they had no reference for my backcountry trips, I’d like to think they would ultimately agree that these expeditions had some parallels with the Jewish congregational community we enjoy at Temple Sinai. Let me explain.

After years of climbing and hiking with friends, I took several months of intensive training after college to lead adults on mountaineering expeditions in the Mountain West. These expeditions were demanding and potentially hazardous, and the comfort and safety of all participants required them to be well-oiled teams. Each group needed to cohere around common goals, shared values, and respect for one another. When they did so, we were able to achieve so much more through mutual effort and support than we ever could on our own. By myself, I can climb non-technical routes and travel a modest distance with the supplies on my back. With a well-tuned expeditionary group, however, we can cross raging rivers, scale peaks, traverse glaciers, and backpack for a hundred miles.

Now I certainly enjoy the peace and privacy of solo camping. But I have only experienced the sublime wonder of a summit sunrise, a stomping herd of bighorn mountain sheep, and calving alpine ice and rockfall when traveling with an expeditionary team. Such euphoric experience is a blessing, not only for uplifting the spirit but also for grounding the ego. For me these experiences have engendered humility, comfort in my skin, and commitment to Chesed (lovingkindness) and Tikkun Olam (care for the world). These experiences can also be exhausting. Living with constant danger and physical toil is stressful. So too is the emotional exertion of living closely with and caring for so many others for a long period of time.

Perhaps you see where I am going with this. My years as Temple President and board member have entailed the emotional exertion of a backcountry expedition, but they have also been similarly exhilarating. Like many of us, I feel the sublime current of our deep Jewish heritage most clearly when I am with our congregational community. Never more so than in our sanctuary as we sing and pray together on Shabbat, joyously celebrate b’nai mitzvah ceremonies, and share one another’s pain during funeral services.

I sometimes think of myself, in classic American terms, as a self-fashioned person. But my time at Sinai has reminded me that some of the most important aspects of myself— my Judaism, my heritage, my desire to leave a meaningful legacy— are not just self-made. They take shape in a community of values and practice that uplifts the spirit and grounds the ego. It is for this reason that I think my shtetl-born grandparents would agree that our congregational community is, like an expedition, a blessing. It has been a gift for my family for the past fifteen years, as we have shared this congregation’s Reform Jewish values and practice and thereby strengthened our commitment to Chesed and Tikkun Olam.

Like the many congregants quoted in Esther’s article, I have cherished the comfort, connection, and community of Temple Sinai, and I will try to do my part—through volunteer activity and financial support— to strengthen our congregation. Please consider doing so as well and joining me on this expedition.