I sat at a table with the loved ones of a woman who had died of cancer far too young, as they shared stories about her life as an artist, a partner, and a parent. Unexpectedly, the woman’s 20-something child announced, “There’s something I need to say. Grandpa, I’m trans. I need you to know that I’m a girl.” The grandfather took a moment, and then, in his thick Texas accent, he replied, “I don’t get it, but you should be whatever makes you happy.”

Later, the daughter shared with me how her mother had supported her journey and how she had made the spur-of-the-moment decision to come out because of the safe space I had created. It was clear that she could not imagine going to her mom’s funeral as anything other than her true self. I worked with her to craft a eulogy where I spoke about all the support her mother had given her, helping everyone present develop a deeper understanding of them both. Through the power of sacred story, even at this devastating moment, her family was able to live more honestly and authentically.

Jewish community and Jewish ritual can inspire profound transformation. At this funeral, I was reminded that every moment in synagogue life contains the potential for people to grow and discover truths about themselves and each other. This is the work I am called to do as a rabbi – to create transformative spaces where people can share their stories to better understand themselves, each other, and the world.

My Rabbinic Vision and Strategy

I believe that synagogues are in the transformation business. Together, we have the power to change lives and change the world. We do this by helping people lead lives of meaning, purpose, and belonging.

Meaning is our understanding of who we are. Purpose is our understanding of our mission in the world. Belonging is the feeling that we are seen, known, and valued. When we explore these together, we transform lives and communities.

Achieving transformation requires not just vision, but strategy. In the pursuit of my vision, I turn to my background and studies in organizational development and community organizing. For every program, project, sermon, and service, I begin with these questions: “What is the change we are hoping to inspire?” and “How will this contribute to meaning, purpose, and belonging?” From there, I build a strategy to achieve those goals. Here are three examples:

Question: How can we inspire young adults through creative worship?

In 2018, Cantor Rollin Simmons and I noticed that while our regular Friday night services were well attended, there were often only a handful of people under the age of 40. So, we set out to create a worship experience for young adults that would be relevant, exciting, and beautiful, where they could seek meaning. We wanted people to leave and say, “I didn’t know prayer could feel like that.”

We created Warehouse Shabbat, a quarterly alternative service that takes place beyond the walls of our synagogue. Each service centers around a spiritual question, like: “How might we plant seeds of hope in tearful times, so that we can reap in joy?” or “Can the omer help us cultivate gratitude by teaching us to number our days?” From there, we curate an eclectic mix of modern poetry, popular and traditional music, diverse texts, and compelling visual t’fillah to explore the question from many perspectives. The service continues to grow, and though it was built with the needs of young adults in mind, we have been delighted to see that people of all ages find it meaningful. (The rotating seasonal dessert options and signature cocktails probably help too). People keep returning and bringing their friends, eager to be buoyed by community and to find new depth in prayer and conversation.

Through this service, I have seen the meaning and transformation that are possible when tradition and innovation meet. In this service, I experience some of my favorite parts of being a rabbi. I collaborate with a creative clergy partner to make something entirely new and joyful. I share my interests, like using my love of astronomy to inspire awe and wonder. I use humor and live by my motto that we can take the work seriously without taking ourselves too seriously. The insights from Warehouse Shabbat now inform every service I lead. For me, prayer is an opportunity for meaning and transformation. We address our deepest yearnings in the place where ancient wisdom and our modern lives meet.

Question: How can we address people’s feelings of powerlessness by revitalizing our social justice work?

Early in my time at Emanu El, I was tasked with revitalizing our congregation’s social justice work. Turning to my background in community organizing, I put together a Core Team of leaders. In small gatherings in congregant homes, we engaged more than 100 people with this prompt: “Tell us a story about a time when you witnessed injustice and what you did about it.” Congregants shared incredible stories of heartbreak and courage and left those conversations feeling like they got to know each other in deep and powerful ways. Honestly, if our work had stopped there, it would have made an enduring impact on our congregation because every participant gained a new sense of belonging.

But our work did not stop there. We realized that many of the stories we heard expressed a feeling of powerlessness in the face of growing injustice in the world. In response, we developed our first community organizing initiative: Emanu El Votes, a civic engagement campaign that has increased the voting percentage of our congregation by more than 30% over the last four election cycles.

Our Core Team has launched additional projects, and through each, a growing number of our congregants have found ways to express their purpose. Through these campaigns, we have also developed many new leaders who have gone on to join the synagogue Board or to chair other committees. With the power of story and strategic organizing, we are making a transformative impact on the lives of our congregants, our congregation, and our city.

Question: How can Jewish learning speak to people’s urgent needs and challenges?

One of the highlights of every Elul is playing “bad apology bingo.” It is part of an annual young adult class called The Art of the Celebrity Apology, where we use the framework outlined by Maimonides in Hilchot T’shuvah (The Laws of Repentance) to analyze public apologies. We explore how Rambam’s centuries-old ideas on repair are echoed by modern social science. We might laugh together when somebody gets “bingo,” but the class is more than just a fun gimmick. It is about looking at something ubiquitous in our lives – the public apologies we see on social media and in corporate press releases – through the lens of our tradition’s ancient and compelling wisdom. It is about building practical and powerful spiritual skills, while addressing one of the most urgent questions we face: How can we seek repair when we have hurt the people we love?

This class encapsulates my philosophy as a teacher. I create learning opportunities that are vibrant, joyful, and participatory. I come at questions from interesting angles and make surprising connections that ignite the imagination. And most of all, I see learning opportunities as invitations for transformation. This means speaking to the deepest questions in people’s lives. With every sermon or class, I start with questions like, “What is on people’s minds?” and “What do we need to feel this week?” Then I look to our texts to see what might speak to these pressing needs. And I put a wide range of modern disciplines in conversation with our ancient wisdom. I use humor and curiosity to inspire openness, honesty to inspire vulnerability, and passion to inspire curiosity, in the pursuit of meaning, purpose, and belonging.