5787 Berith Sholom Leadership's Rosh haShanah Speech

Shana Tova!

My name is Claire Gonyo and I’m honored to serve on the board here at Berith Sholom. I want to echo the welcome of Amy Lovett, our board secretary. I am so glad you are all here.

It almost feels serendipitous to take on this role today because yesterday was what I affectionately call my Jewaversary.

Four years ago, I formally stood before my Beit Din, went to Mikveh with Reb Deb, and was officially welcomed home to the tribe, the place my soul has been for thousands of years.

Two weeks later on Rosh Hashanah, Reb Deb introduced me to you all as Tova Danya bat Avraham v’Sarah, the “newest Jew in the room” as she called me that day.

And then 18 months ago I stood here as a Bat Mitzvah and delivered a D’var Torah that, at its heart, was all about community.

Today, I have been given the honor of giving the drash on behalf of our Board President, Beth Hershenhart, as we, as a congregation, embrace this year's theme: “A Time of Transition.”

When I think about transition, I think about history and community; what we inherit; what we build; what we sustain; and what we leave for those who come after us.

Some of the things that move me most as a Jew are our traditions: knowing that I'm part of something simultaneously enormous and intimate; that I'm part of our brit, our covenant with God; and that I'm carrying traditions our people have held for thousands of years. The way we embrace l'dor v'dor—from generation to generation—is part of who we are.

And let me tell you, the first time I saw Fiddler on the Roof after my Beit Din, the scene where there are at least a dozen families standing around kitchen tables lighting Shabbos candles gave me goosebumps from head to toe. But that also happens here, in this sanctuary with all of you, especially on these High Holy Days.

The Jewish people are certainly no stranger to transition.

As an am—a people, a tribe—our history is filled with moments when the world we knew changed profoundly: from slavery to freedom, from wandering in the wilderness to establishing a homeland, through the destruction of the Temples and centuries of diaspora.

And Judaism itself changed with us. After the destruction of the Second Temple, a tradition centered largely around Temple worship and sacrifice evolved into a rabbinic tradition centered around prayer, study, mitzvot, and community.

In today's Torah portion, Sarah herself experiences a transition that had once seemed impossible: after years of infertility, she gives birth to Isaac. And with Isaac comes not simply a change in Sarah and Abraham's lives, but the continuation of a covenant into another generation.

Again and again, our people have figured out how to carry forward what is essential while allowing the way we practice it to change.

And Judaism doesn’t just endure transitions. We mark them. We light Shabbat candles and make Havdalah to mark the coming and going of Shabbat. We mark lifecycle transitions—baby namings, Bet Mitzvahs, conversions, marriages, and mourning. And before these High Holy Days, Elul gives us a time for reflection and teshuvah as we prepare for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

And Berith Sholom is no stranger to transition either.

For 160 years, generations before us have experienced changes that must have felt enormous in their own moments. Rabbis have come and gone. The world around this congregation has changed dramatically. And still, generation after generation, people have chosen to sustain this community.

Now it is our turn to live through one of those moments.

After 29 years, Reb Deb has retired. Rabbi Abraham is helping guide us through this interim year. Our rabbinic search committee is doing the important work of finding the rabbi who will help lead us into our next chapter.

We have been a congregation for 160 years, and for 156 of those years, this building has held us. It has held our traditions and our rituals. It has held generations of our families. It has held us in celebration and in grief, in certainty and uncertainty, through periods of stability and through enormous transition.

And now, in a very literal way, it is our turn to hold it.

We already know this is a special place. I sometimes lovingly refer to us as “the little shul that could” because we are remarkably resilient. We bring together people from different Jewish backgrounds, with different viewpoints on religion, politics, and plenty of other things. Those differences aren't always easy to navigate, but somehow we continue to do it with vulnerability, openness, and kindness.

We have people who step up in just about every way imaginable—not just to keep this place and its people going, but to help our community grow, thrive, and even...transition. These things are part of our DNA.

So what do we want to carry with us?

What is essential about Berith Sholom to you? What have we inherited that we are responsible for sustaining? And what do we need to build now so that people sitting in this sanctuary decades from now inherit a community as meaningful to them as this one has been to us?

Those aren't only philosophical questions. Right now, they're practical ones, too.

And that's where the infamous four Ts come in: time, talent, ties, and treasure. We need all four to carry Berith Sholom into the future.

Time. Come to services, potlucks, and Bet Mitzvahs. Volunteer. Try a lifelong-learning program. Simply showing up is a gift to this community.

Talent. We need tech gurus and gardeners, writers and event organizers, turkey carvers, lawyers, and musicians. If there's something you can do and you'd like to help, please tell us.

Ties. Be an ambassador for Berith Sholom. Most people find us because someone tells them about this special little congregation. Help others find us, too.

And finally – treasure. We really and truly need your financial support. If you've been here before, you've surely heard the phrase, “Be like Ruth Marinsky!”

Ruth was a New York State employee who made a legacy gift to Berith Sholom. Nearly a quarter-century after her death, her gift still helps fund our synagogue. Ruth couldn't have known the people who would benefit from her generosity decades later. That's l'dor v'dor, too.

Your gifts matter, whether it's $18 to celebrate someone's grandchild, a Life and Legacy gift, or an 1870 Society commitment.

Our building itself has changed in recent years, including the installation of solar panels and structural changes to our sanctuary and courtyard. But the reality is that 156 years is a long life for a building, and this one needs our support if it is going to continue holding generations after us.

That is why we’ve recently launched our 160th anniversary campaign. Our priorities include replacing our sidewalks, updating security technology, maintaining essential infrastructure, addressing deferred maintenance, and building a reserve for future needs. Our goal is to raise $160,000 over the next three years—and today, I want to challenge us not just to meet that goal, but to beat it. We're already on our way. Before the campaign even officially began, a few donors stepped forward, giving us more than $20,000 toward our goal.

And Rabbi Abraham has promised that if we meet our $160,000 goal by Yom Kippur morning, he'll have Dan cut the fundraising portion out of his speech. So...no pressure.

We're asking you to show up for our community in this moment of transition by investing in its future. You should have received two pull-tab sheets when you checked in this morning, one for each effort.

First, we are asking you to make your annual High Holy Day gift. Those gifts are an important part of our regular operating budget. They help us do what we do here every day and every year, and we continue to depend on them.

And separately, we're asking you to make a gift to our 160th Anniversary Campaign. For this campaign, we're asking you to stretch beyond what you would normally give. Simply dividing your usual High Holy Day gift between the two campaigns won't get us where we need to go.

To put our goal in perspective, $160,000 works out to an average of about $1,300 for each of our 125 member families. We know that number will look different for every household. Some can give more. Some cannot.

What we're asking is that every one of us think about what it means, within our own circumstances, to stretch for the future of Berith Sholom. I've already made my pledge to the campaign, and I'm asking you to join me in investing in Berith Sholom’s future.

You can indicate your gifts by folding the appropriate tabs on your pull-tab sheets and handing them in today, or take the sheets home and use the QR code to give online. If you have questions, Andrew or any member of the Board will be happy to help.

Generations before us built this place. They maintained it. They paid its bills. They supported its rabbis and teachers and musicians.

They gave their time, talent, ties, and treasure to keep this little shul that could alive through decades when not only was I not a Jew yet—neither I nor my great-grandparents had even been born. They had no idea I was coming. They had no idea, really, that any of us would be here.

But because they built it, sustained it, and nurtured it, Berith Sholom was here for each one of us to come home to when it was our time.

We don't know the generations who will come through our doors next. We don't know their names or what their Jewish journeys will look like. But I hope we do everything we can—as individuals and as a community—to sustain and nurture this building and this congregation so that when it is their time, there is still a place here for them to come home to.

And perhaps, 160 years from now, they will be doing exactly what we're doing today—asking themselves what they inherited, what they will sustain, and what they will leave for those who come after them. And that’s l’dor v’dor, too.

Shanah tovah, everyone. I wish you all a sweet, sweet new year.