May 15, 2026

Ten years ago, on a fall Shabbat evening, a group of men I didn’t recognize walked into services and sat in the back of the sanctuary. Several were wearing purple sweaters. I approached them to introduce myself, as I always try to do when new people come to Shabbat services. They told me they were visiting from Chicago for the weekend. After several minutes of conversation, I learned that they were part of the delegation from Northwestern University that had come to Columbus for the football game the next day between the Buckeyes and the Wildcats. A few were on the coaching staff; not all were Jewish. One of the men in a purple sweater introduced himself as Morton Shapiro, who at the time was the President of Northwestern University. He told me that if I ever needed anything, I could reach out. As they departed that evening, I wished them well and told them to enjoy the World Series, as the Cubs and the Indians were in the middle of an epic seven-game series. Mr. Shapiro turned to me and whispered, “See that guy over there? He is a part owner of the White Sox. We’re not rooting for the Cubs.”

I had not heard much about Morton Shapiro in the years since, though I knew he had stepped down and retired from Northwestern several years ago. He was in the news last week because he had been invited by Georgetown University to receive an honorary doctorate and serve as the commencement speaker for its law school graduation. When he was invited to speak, he encouraged the graduation class to look at much of what he had written for the Jewish Journal, Los Angeles’s Jewish newspaper. In recent years, he has repeatedly expressed support for Israel and Zionist views. Georgetown moved forward with the invitation because, as they stated, “Georgetown is a place that cherishes dialogue and debate.” Just days before the ceremony, students learned he would be speaking and wrote a letter in protest. Shapiro decided to withdraw because he “didn’t want potential protestors to distract from the day’s festivities.”

A week prior, at the University of Michigan’s graduation, Derek Peterson, outgoing chair of the Faculty Senate, spoke at commencement and said in remarks intended as a homage to the Michigan alma mater, “Sing for the pro-Palestinian student activists who have, over these past two years, opened our hearts to the injustice and inhumanity of Israel’s war in Gaza.” These words were not included in the original approved version of the speech and were ad-libbed in the moment. Prior to these remarks, he had praised the university for hiring its first Jewish professor, Moritz Levy, in the 1890s. Peterson justified his comments by tying the two together. Michigan’s president condemned the remarks, stating that graduation ceremonies are not the place for expression of personal political beliefs. Peterson’s words drew the loudest cheers of the speech and caused pain for many Jewish students in attendance. It also cannot be forgotten that some of those same protesters vandalized several buildings around campus, including the home of University Regent Jordan Acker, who is Jewish. Their actions incited fear and heightened the antisemitic atmosphere for Jewish students. His speech was not the time or place for those remarks.

Shapiro’s decision came just days after Peterson’s comments. He decided to publish his prepared remarks in the Jewish Journal anyway. They contained nothing political. Shapiro was replaced by a Georgetown Law faculty member who “has been outspoken in recent years, in particular for defending the right to express antisemitic views.” Shapiro’s speech is worth reading and is the source of the quotations above. His remarks “discussed humility, gratitude, and the need for dialogue in our polarized society.”

Shapiro wanted the graduates to understand that the most important skill they would need had nothing to do with interpreting the law or working as a team, but rather “the humility to realize how much there still is to learn.” His words speak volumes at a time when too many people insist they are right and leave no room to listen to anyone but themselves. People boast of their expertise when they might be better served by opening their hearts to the possibility of learning something that might invite them to reconsider their perspective and lead to growth.

Shapiro reminded the graduates that gratitude goes hand in hand with humility. None of those students reached that milestone without the help of others. He encouraged them to be grateful for all the people who supported them along the way. He invited students to reconnect with those who helped, explaining that they would be overjoyed to learn where the students are now in their lives.

Shapiro spoke about the lost art of dialogue and how a curse of moral certainty has infected many of our minds. A growing sense of disrespect and distrust has plagued so many individuals and communities. He praised Georgetown Law’s deep commitment to free and open inquiry, deliberation, and debate in all matters.

The students never heard these words. They lost a profound opportunity to carry with them essential wisdom for life—wisdom that on one hand seems obvious, but on the other feels so necessary. Shapiro wanted the students to help change the world for the better. Sadly, they are not better off for having missed the chance to hear his remarks. I hope they took the time to read them. As we take the opportunity to read Morton Shapiro’s words, may we recognize the importance of humility, gratitude, and the world’s desperate need for respect and trust.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

May 8, 2026

Each of us can recall significant moments in our lives. These moments might include becoming a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, graduating, getting married, or the birth of a child or grandchild. Memorable moments may also be more traumatic: experiencing a severe illness, the death of a loved one, or a terrible accident.

In their book The Power of Moments, Chip Heath and Dan Heath explain that a defining moment is a short experience that is both meaningful and memorable. They describe the essential elements that make up these life‑defining moments. They include:

Elevation: Defining moments rise above the everyday and transcend the normal course of events; they are extraordinary.

Insight: Defining moments rewire our understanding of the world.

Pride: Defining moments capture us at our best—moments of achievement and moments of courage.

Connection: Defining moments are social. Weddings, graduations, vacations, work triumphs, Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, speeches, and sporting events are strengthened because we share them with others.

Being a sports fan often comes with memorable moments. Whether your favorite team wins a championship or experiences a magical moment in the middle of a mundane season, certain occasions stand out. For fans who are unable to be in the ballpark to witness these moments, the way an announcer describes them often becomes part of the memory itself.

Earlier this week, John Sterling, the longtime voice of the New York Yankees, died at the age of 87. He began broadcasting Yankees games on the radio in 1989 and retired in 2024. At one point, he called 5,058 consecutive games, including the postseason. He broadcast eight World Series and described a Yankees championship‑winning out in five of them with his famous call: “Ball game over! World Series over! Yankees win, thuuuuh Yankees win!” (I know it is a bit sacrilegious to write about the Yankees in Ohio, but I am going to do it anyway.) Sterling called two perfect games—“He’s gonna get it…27 up, 27 down, baseball immortality…”—and who can forget his iconic home‑run calls: “It is high! It is far! It is… gone!” followed by a unique phrase for each player. “Bernie goes boom!” “A thrilla from Godzilla!” “Georgie juiced one.” “The Bam‑Tino.” “All rise! Here comes the Judge!”

As sports fans, we ride the waves of our teams, experiencing moments of thrilling excitement alongside moments of deep heartache. Often, it is the broadcaster who shapes the moment and tells the story in a way that deepens its impact. For me, as a longtime Yankees fan who listened to John Sterling’s deep baritone voice day after day, year after year, those memories stand out vividly. What stands out even more, however, are the memories shared by the people who knew him best. Suzyn Waldman, his longtime broadcast partner, shared that he did everything he ever wanted to do in life and that he was the kindest person you could ever meet. That is how one hopes to be remembered.

Sterling was Jewish, though he worked on the High Holy Days and rarely spoke publicly about religion. He was a devoted fan of Broadway and famously sang Fiddler on the Roof. He also played on a softball team called The Four Corners, referencing the tzitzit on the corners of a tallit.

As I read and reminisced this week about Sterling and the way he accompanied defining moments, I began thinking about the blessing of being a rabbi. This coming week marks the completion of my nineteenth year in the rabbinate. I have had the honor of being present for many of the most meaningful moments in people’s lives. I have stood with families as a loved one took their final breath. I have stood beneath the chuppah as couples began their lives together. I have sung siman tov as people took their first steps as Jews after conversion, and I have walked alongside people as they wandered the shadowed path of grief.

Among my favorite rabbinic moments are the personalized messages I share with young people at B’nai Mitzvah services. I do not know whether people remember every sermon or story, or whether our youth remember those messages, but my hope is that they help elevate the moment with insight, pride, and connection. Over the years, you have invited me, Rabbi Martin, Rabbi Huber, and other rabbis into your lives. We thank you for allowing us to walk through these moments with you.

As Chip Heath and Dan Heath remind us, “Moments matter!” Within the collective canvas of the standout moments of our lives, rabbis have opportunities to provide meaning, comfort, and wisdom. May we have the spiritual fortitude, soulful awareness, and profound wisdom to do so well.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner