July 3, 2026

This Shabbat converges with July 4^th, and this year’s celebration is the semiquincentennial anniversary of our country’s birth. 250 years invites us to reflect on the key lessons we have learned. Throughout the year, Congregation Beth Tikvah has been part of an interfaith collaboration with Worthington-area congregations to mark this anniversary with a program entitled Faith250. Envisioned by Rabbi Michael Holzman, a Reform Rabbi in Northern Virginia, and his colleagues, Faith250 was created to elevate this year’s special anniversary. They selected four core American texts that help us think about our country’s founding and the 250-year journey we have been on.

The core texts included Emma Lazarus’ The New Colossus, The Declaration of Independence, America the Beautiful, and Frederick Douglass’s speech, What to the Slave is the Fourth of July.

The Declaration of Independence’s most famous words begin: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness…”

Though their vision was bold, the dream of equality expressed in it was limited to men, excluding women and enslaved Black people. As we studied this document, we reflected on its aspirational nature, and we wondered how we have upheld the vision or where we have fallen short of it. The struggle to achieve this vision endures each day. So many new Americans have faced challenges as they tried to settle here, and the effects of slavery are still felt by many in the African American communities. Attempts to curtail rights have been met by protest. Perhaps it is this built-in possibility for change that helps us understand that we are constantly trying to improve the society in which we live. Governments are established with the consent of those governed. This is the bedrock of our democracy. The right to vote and to have a voice in our government is the fabric of who we are as a nation. Preserving this is tantamount to our democracy’s survival over the next 250 years.

When we studied Emma Lazarus’ The New Colossus, the poem that appears on the base of the Statue of Liberty, we reflected on the following words:

“‘Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!’ cries she

With silent lips. ‘Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Studying these words, we were moved by the contrast between the ‘storied pomp’ of ancient lands and the ‘tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free” emerging from those same lands. The storied pomp was not for everyone, and many who came to America were persecuted, poor, or searching for opportunity in a place grounded in equality. Of course, we know new immigrants to America were not always met with open arms, but with hard work and commitment, many of those new immigrants would find new life. Many of us recall stories passed down through our families about those challenging times. The lamp greeting us was a beacon to the future.

The fabric of the American story continues to be written and rewritten. The vision held by our founding generation inspires us to continue to build for a better future—a future that sees the equality of every human being and creates structures to ensure that equality. As we build this vision, may we also build a future that is not grounded in the fear of scarcity but one that recognizes the abundance of opportunity.

We hope you will join our interfaith communities at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Worthington on Sunday, August 9 at 5:00 pm for an interfaith service to culminate in this learning partnership. More details will be shared very soon.

Shabbat shalom and Happy Fourth of July!

Rabbi Rick Kellner

June 26, 2026

Over the last several weeks, I have spent time writing about the various Reform Movement platforms. You can read my reflections on the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform, the 1937 Columbus Platform, and the 1976 Centenary Platform on my blog. I want to pause briefly this week and next from that series to focus on two different, unrelated aspects of American Jewish history.

For the past two weeks, I have had the honor of serving on faculty at the URJ 6 Points Sports Academy in Asheville, NC. Three of our Beth Tikvah kids are campers there this session, and others will attend later in the summer. The URJ camping movement has played a significant role in the development of Jewish identity since the 1950s. Michael Meyer writes in his book Response to Modernity that following World War II, religious schools wanted to create a more immersive Jewish experience for their students. They rented camp facilities for a weekend and created Shabbat and educational programming. This immersive time-built community through an experience that could not be accomplished during a few hours a week. The Union of American Hebrew Congregations purchased land in Oconomowoc, WI, and then Saratoga, CA, to create Jewish summer camps that would come to be known as OSRUI and Swig, respectively. Land purchases followed in every region of the country, and the URJ camp movement began.

Tens of thousands of young people attend Jewish summer camp every year. This summer is my 23rd summer at a Union for Reform Judaism camp. At 6 Points Sports, campers play sports, but they do so while learning different values every day, including sportsmanship, teamwork, pride, intention, leadership, and growth. Each of these values is taught and reinforced through Jewish wisdom and tradition. Perhaps the greatest part of the camp experience is the community being built through mishpachot (what we call cabins, because 6 Points is located at a boarding school and the kids stay in dorms). Even though the camp is centered on playing sports and improving, what the kids truly love is the Shabbat experience.

Tonight, they will enter the Holy Stadium. Last week, I shared these words with the 6 Points Sports community:

When Shabbat arrives this evening and the sports and competition settle, we enter our Holy Stadium, where we pray and enjoy the blessing of the sacred community we are building. A stadium is a place for competition, the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat. A Holy Stadium is a place of prayer, connection, song, and celebration. It is a space where hopes ascend and where we are sheltered with a blanket of peace. When we enter the Holy Stadium, we bring the values that guide us. This week focused on hesed, kindness. It is our foundation. We tell our friends “good try” or “great play,” or we express our concern if they fall or are struggling. We learned about sportivut, sportsmanship, as we focused on less “me” and more “us,” emphasizing the importance of working for the collective. This morning, we learned about kavanah, intention, as we reflected on how we prepare to play on the field and live our lives each day. While the Holy Stadium is a sacred place, it also brings us into one of the most sacred times at camp—a time when we build the most wonderful memories with our friends: making s’mores, singing at song session, and Israeli dancing together.

Whether our kids are at:

• GUCI (our URJ regional camp in Zionsville, IN)
• 6 Points Sports
• 6 Points Creative Arts
• 6 Points Sci-Tech
• Camp Wise
• Camp Livingston
• Emma Kaufmann Camp
• JCC Day Camp

Or any other Jewish summer camp experience this summer, we know that Jewish summer camp is one of the leading experiences that helps build Jewish identity and Jewish community. Studies have shown that time at Jewish summer camp creates connections for Jewish youth that lead to lifelong, enduring commitment to Jewish life.

At Beth Tikvah, our Brotherhood has helped support Jewish youth attending Jewish summer camp each summer through the annual Chicken Souper Bowl. Jeff Wasserstrom has led this effort year after year. He has helped raise hundreds of thousands of dollars, and our Beth Tikvah campers have benefited from his efforts for many years. Thank you to Jeff and the Beth Tikvah Brotherhood for making camp possible for so many of our youth.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

Reflections by Rabbi Rick Kellner

Rainbow by Kevin Johnson

from Mishkan Ga’avah: Where Pride Dwells, edited by Rabbi Denise Eger, CCAR Press

When I see a rainbow on

The flag flying

From the lamp-post,

Fluttering in the

Pacific breeze,

I know that God

Made a covenant

Between us.

If we lived our lives

In black and white,

We would never see

That promise God made.

To see all those colors together

Reminds me

That God is there

For you and me.

…

Signs of God’s covenant with humanity and with the Jewish people are everywhere. Torah teaches us that the bow in the clouds after a storm is a sign of God’s covenant. We also learn in the book of Genesis that brit milah is a sign of the covenant. Later, in Exodus, we are taught that Shabbat is a sign of the covenant between God and the Jewish people. Together, these signs trace the unique partnership God forms—first with all humanity, then with the descendants of Abraham, and ultimately with the Jewish people.

For the poet Kevin Johnson, God’s rainbow covenant shifts from the clouds to a flag blowing in the breeze. What is typically seen refracted through raindrops becomes a symbol stitched together, extending God’s covenant and reminding us how God embraces all creation. For members of the LGBTQIA+ community, who have so often been marginalized and excluded, seeing the Rainbow or Progress flag is a powerful reminder of spaces where they are welcomed, affirmed, and embraced.

Perhaps the most powerful line in this poem is the comparison between living in black and white and living in a world of color. To live in black and white is to live in a binary world, with limited ways of seeing one another. Johnson invites us instead to see the world in its full spectrum of color, an invitation to recognize and honor the diversity of humanity, just as God created each of us.

Embedded within the Jewish concept of brit—covenant, we find themes of hope, protection, and mutual loving-kindness. We are all responsible for extending these values to the LGBTQIA+ community. As we enter Pride Month, we will celebrate with Pride Shabbat on June 5^th and then join Worthington Pride on June 7^th. Through these celebrations, let us wave the Pride or Progress flag proudly, as an expression of the fullness of God’s covenant with all humanity.

June 19, 2026

Over the last two weeks, I have written about the foundational platforms that guided Reform Judaism in America, beginning with the Pittsburgh Platform in 1885 and the Columbus Platform in 1937. Post–World War II America brought about a rush of changes in American life, as well as Jewish life. We saw a large shift from city life to suburban Jewish life and the establishment of many synagogues, including Congregation Beth Tikvah in 1961. The Classical Reform prayer experience began to shift from a choir that sang melodies by Sulzer and Lewandowski to the music of Jewish composers and singers who shape what we sing today—Debbie Friedman, Rabbi Dan Freelander, and Cantor Jeff Klepper, to name a few.

Rabbi Maurice Eisendrath, who led the Union of American Hebrew Congregations from the late 1940s and moved the UAHC headquarters from Cincinnati to New York, placed a strong focus on the ethical obligations of Jewish life. He helped establish the Religious Action Center as the social justice arm of the movement. He marched with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and helped establish the pursuit of justice as central to Reform Judaism. His leadership helped centralize the UAHC as the voice of Reform Judaism. Prior to his leadership, Hebrew Union College, as well as the voices of rabbis leading large congregations, had competed for leadership.

After Eisendrath’s death in 1973, Rabbi Alexander Schindler took up the mantle of leadership. He brought a different connection to Judaism and Jewish life. Under Rabbi Schindler’s leadership, the UAHC centralized Jewish education and Yiddishkeit. There were numerous publications, such as Gates of Mitzvah and A Guide to Shabbat, that helped bring cohesion to what was becoming a fragmented Jewish experience. The CCAR published Gates of Prayer, its first prayer book in more than a generation, and the book that many of us who grew up in Reform congregations used throughout much of our lives. Reform Judaism was shifting back toward a more traditional observance of Judaism. The kippah and tallit, which would have been considered contraband in a Reform temple 50 years earlier, were becoming more commonplace.

The world was changing as well. The 1960s saw the rise of the Civil Rights Movement and a wave of legislation granting rights to the African American community and other minorities. The Vietnam War and the protests surrounding it took hold in America. In Ohio, the Big Red Machine went on to win back-to-back World Series titles, and the New York Knicks won a couple of championships—something that wouldn’t happen again until 2026 (yes, this week has been a dream come true for me—Go Knicks!). In the Jewish community, Israel was still threatened by its neighbors, as its very existence came to the brink in 1967 and 1973.

The UAHC Centennial in 1973 and the HUC Centennial in 1975 created both a desire and an opportunity to develop a new platform. Michael Meyer writes in Response to Modernity that representatives from the HUC faculty, congregational rabbis, and laity began meeting for this purpose in 1971. Longtime HUC professor Eugene Borowitz, a traditionalist in theology, led a group of faculty at HUC-JIR in New York to create a new platform. After these efforts did not succeed, CCAR President Robert Kahn created a committee of CCAR members to draft a new platform. A year later, in 1976, the CCAR gathered in San Francisco to adopt Reform Judaism: A Centenary Perspective.

The echoes of the Holocaust guided Jewish life, even though it had not yet become commonplace to discuss it openly. The language of survival is clear throughout the document. Meyer explains that this new platform avoided taking a clear theological position. Torah, it explained, resulted from the relationship among God, the Jewish people, and Israel as an uncommon union of faith and peoplehood. Mitzvot were described as “claims made upon us.” The document began with a reflection on history and concluded with history, stating, “with God’s help people are not powerless to affect their destiny.” Absent from the creation of this platform were divisions over Zionism; those discussions gave way to deep conversations about how one lives as a Jew.

It is this document, and the Reform Jewish world it helped shape, that influenced the ways I grew up Jewishly. Just like its predecessors, it mirrors what was happening in the world—both Jewish and non-Jewish—during a time of rapid change.

As we navigate this pathway through history, we learn about the thinking and experiences that have shaped Jewish life today. As Reform Jews, we adapt, change, and grow.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

June 12, 2026

We have spent much of this week doing important work as we engage with our schools. On Monday, we hosted school administrators for a professional development seminar on responding to and preventing antisemitism in schools. On Tuesday and Wednesday, we hosted nearly 50 teachers from across Central Ohio for a professional development seminar in Holocaust education and the impacts of antisemitism. We are so grateful for JewishColumbus’s support in this work. We should be proud of the sacred work we are doing as we help teachers gain the tools and skills needed to support their students.

Last week, I began an email series that will last several weeks and focus on the history of Reform Judaism, with a closer look at the 1885 Pittsburgh Platform. The subsequent platforms unraveled the Pittsburgh doctrine, beginning with the 1937 Platform, which was adopted right here in Columbus, Ohio, at Temple Israel. The rejection of Jewish ritual life and a connection to Jewish peoplehood were completely overturned by the end of the 20th century.

The 1937 Columbus Platform reflected a significant shift happening in America at the time. In 1885, the American Jewish community was largely of German descent. The early 20th century brought waves of Jewish refugees from Eastern Europe, including the former Soviet Union. With this influx of Jewish immigrants came a diversity of Jewish belief and practice, as well as a different financial status. These immigrants had either witnessed pogroms or were descendants of those who did. By the 1930s, significant quotas had limited Jewish immigration, and American Jews began to see the plight of Jews in Europe as the Nazis rose to power.

A key text on Reform Jewish history is Response to Modernity by Michael A. Meyer. Meyer shares that by 1930, when the Reform Movement was creating a new hymnal, “Hatikvah” was included in a section entitled “The Nation.” David Philipson, who had been present at the 1885 gathering of rabbis, declared, “Had anyone told me twenty years ago that nationalism would make such inroads as to succeed in having the Zionist National hymn ‘Hatikvah’ incorporated into the hymnal published by the conference, I would have thought him ready for the lunatic asylum.”

In 1935, Felix Levy, a Zionist, became president of the CCAR, only the second Zionist president to lead the Conference. Meyer writes that Rabbi Edward Israel had circulated a resolution among the CCAR’s 401 members in support of the Palestine Labor Movement. In total, 241 rabbis signed it. With more than half of the Conference made up of Zionist rabbis, the tone in the Conference was shifting. Though in 1935 the CCAR chose to allow its members to take individual stands on the issue of Zionism and would take no official stand, it paved the way for a committee to form to write a new platform.

The drafting of a new platform would not come without disagreement and strife. Samuel Cohon and Samuel Schulman were at odds with one another. Schulman, the retired rabbi of the Classical Reform Temple Emanu-El in New York City, drafted one document, while Cohon, a rabbi who held a deep connection to the Jewish people, drafted another. Other Zionists, including Abba Hillel Silver and Stephen Wise, who were part of the commission, sided with Cohon. When Schulman became ill and could not attend the 1936 convention, CCAR President Felix Levy chose to put forth Cohon’s draft. Any decision was ultimately postponed for a year. As Meyer writes, those in attendance here in Columbus not only had to decide between two platforms but also between two determined and angry personalities. Only eight opposed the new document.

The platform, entitled The Guiding Principles of Reform Judaism, represented a major shift away from its Pittsburgh predecessor. It was not a declaration of specific Reform tenets, but rather a comprehensive and concise liberal interpretation of Judaism. Regarding Israel, the Columbus Platform states, “In all lands where our people live, they assume and seek to share the full duties and responsibilities of citizenship and to create seats of Jewish knowledge and religion. In the rehabilitation of Palestine, the land hallowed by memories and hopes, we behold the promise of renewed life for many of our brethren. We affirm the obligation of all Jewry to aid in its upbuilding as a Jewish homeland by endeavoring to make it not only a haven of refuge for the oppressed but also a center of Jewish culture and spiritual life.”

Though it does not specifically call for a Jewish state, the call for a Jewish homeland in Palestine reflects the tone of Zionist writers, Ahad Ha’am among them, who saw it as a center for Jewish culture and spiritual life, as well as a refuge to support those in danger.

From a theological perspective, the document turns away from language like “God idea” and toward an understanding of God as the source of creation and the “indwelling Presence of the world.” It introduces the language of social justice, calling for society to eliminate “man-made misery, and suffering, of poverty and degradation, of tyranny and slavery, of social inequality and prejudice, of ill-will and strife.” The Columbus Platform also brings back an emphasis on Jewish ritual life, something that had been completely rejected two generations earlier.

The early 20th century marked a significant shift in Reform Jewish life. The latter half of the 19th century saw a focus on Americanism and the desire to assimilate into the new world in which Jews were living. By contrast, the early 20th century drew on the impact of religion, faith, and Jewish peoplehood as foundational aspects of Jewish life.

As we think about the conversations taking place today, we cannot help but see the parallels in Jewish history. The early 20th century was a time marked by persecution and danger. It was arguably a time with some of the highest incidents of antisemitic undertones in American history. The debate that ensued strikes the same notes we are hearing today: Who are we as a people? What should be the center of our concern? The tension between Judaism’s universalist ideals and its particularist concern for the Jewish people continues today.

As we reflect on this history, we ask what history can teach us. Living in the Diaspora and under the Star-Spangled Banner has afforded us the ability to work toward a balance between the two. How can we continue to nurture that balance today?

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

June 5, 2026

Over the past week, there has been significant debate sparked by a gathering of Reform Jewish leaders in New York City at a conference called Re‑Charging Reform. Hosted by the Stephen S. Wise Free Synagogue, the gathering ignited controversy around the ordination of anti‑Zionist rabbis at Hebrew Union College. Participants adopted a resolution calling on the College not to ordain anti‑Zionist rabbis, while HUC President Andrew Rehfeld defended the institution’s commitment to inquiry, discussion, and engagement with contemporary issues.

In this brief reflection, I will not attempt to offer an opinion on that question. Instead, over the coming weeks, I will explore the history of Reform Judaism, examining the foundational documents that have shaped Reform Jewish thought and values in America over the past 140 years. These documents and platforms can be found on the website of the Central Conference of American Rabbis. Through this exploration, we may better understand the roots of today’s debates and, perhaps, be better equipped to form our own perspectives. We will return to the current question after our dive into history.

Much of the discussion about Zionism in Reform Judaism can be traced back to its earliest platform, adopted in Pittsburgh in November 1885. Known as the Pittsburgh Platform, it sought to articulate guiding principles for an emerging movement in the United States. Regarding Zionism, the document famously states: “We consider ourselves no longer a nation, but a religious community, and therefore expect neither a return to Palestine, nor a sacrificial worship under the sons of Aaron, nor the restoration of any of the laws concerning the Jewish state.” Controversy surrounding this position contributed to the development of the Columbus Platform some fifty years later.

It is important to note that the Pittsburgh Platform was never formally adopted by the Central Conference of American Rabbis, which was established in 1889, four years after the gathering. The document emphasized the ethical foundations of Judaism while rejecting certain ritual practices, such as kashrut and laws of priestly purity and dress. Its call to “participate in the great task of modern times…to solve, on the basis of justice and righteousness, the problems presented by the contrasts and evils of the present organization of society” had a lasting impact on Reform Jewish life.

Questions remain regarding what inspired the Pittsburgh gathering and why the final document was adopted by the rabbis in attendance. Scholars argue that a debate between Rabbi Alexander Kohut, a recent immigrant to the United States and leader of Congregation Ahawath Chesed, and Rabbi Dr. Kaufman Kohler played a role. While this debate focused on the purpose of religious practice—similar to distinctions we might draw today between Reform and Orthodox Judaism—the motivations for the gathering may have been broader. Some suggest that the rise of the Ethical Culture movement, founded by Felix Adler in 1876, influenced the conference, as it appealed to many of the same people drawn to Reform Judaism. Others point to concerns about assimilation and the fear that many Reform Jews might disengage from Jewish life—an ongoing challenge for Diaspora communities.

Questions also remain about whether the principles were widely adopted by American Jews at the time. Historian Jonathan Sarna notes that little documentation of the discussions was preserved, and the “Authentic Report” published afterward did not include dissenting voices. Rabbi Michael Machol of Cleveland remarked in 1890, “I was opposed to some of them, and am still opposed to them.” A century later, Rabbi Walter Jacob described the document as a defining text of the early twentieth century, while also noting that its influence may have been somewhat exaggerated. Some argue that its stance on Zionism led to a reversal in the 1937 Columbus Platform, while others, such as Maxmillian Heller, suggested as early as 1903 that its views were already outdated. Jacob ultimately wrote that the platform “represented a radical reform which was almost immediately modified.”

While its immediate impact may be debated, the Pittsburgh Platform clearly left a lasting mark on Reform Judaism, serving as a point of reference for later developments. It has sometimes been used to suggest anti‑Zionist or non‑Zionist origins within Reform Judaism, though that may not fully reflect the diversity of views at the time. What is clear is that the Platform sought to respond to the pressing concern of assimilation—a question that has shaped Jewish life for centuries and continues to resonate today.

Next week, we will take a closer look at the Columbus Platform of 1937.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

May 29, 2026

The Hebrew Bible offers two possibilities when translating the word “song” into Hebrew. One option is shira, as in “shiru ladonai shir chadash” – “Sing a new song unto God” (Psalm 95). Another example of this is when the Israelites reached the other side of the parted sea the book of Exodus reads “az yashir moshe uv’nei Yisrael et hashira hazot” – “And Moses and the Israelites sang this song…” (Exodus 15:1).

The second option is zimra as in Psalm 98:5 which reads “zamru l’Adonai b’chinor b’chinor v’kol zimra” – “Sing praise to God with the lyre and melodious song” or “Mizmor shir l’yom hashabbat” – “Sing a song of Shabbat” (Psalm 92:1).

Why would there be two options for a word we express singularly in English? The two options seem to indicate slightly different meanings, though the translations of the verses I cited above make that difficult to recognize. The Hebrew Academy suggests that it is only in modern Hebrew that we realize a distinction between the two. As we can see in Biblical translations, shira and zimra appear to be used interchangeably. In modern Hebrew the word shir or shira might suggest the actual text of a song or poem; whereas zimra, indicates the art or act of singing or playing an instrument. The verses above reveal that shira could accompany an expression of joy upon witnessing something new. Zimra, on the other hand, might suggest a more regular occurrence of singing that includes an expression of gratitude.

Perhaps a modern distinction can help us capture the meaning of tonight’s celebration honoring Julie Sapper’s retirement as our longtime Director of Musical Programming. On countless occasions, Julie brought deeper meaning to the shirim—the songs and sacred texts of our tradition—through zimra, the act of singing, whether through our voices or through instruments. Her love of music harmonized these two biblical expressions, bringing joy to our Shabbat, reflection to the High Holy Days, and her heart and soul to both the music and the people.

Julie has a deep passion for all music, and especially for Jewish music, as well as a profound love of teaching. She began her career as a music teacher long before she ever walked through the doors of Beth Tikvah. When she joined our community 19 years ago, she began as a music teacher in our Religious School. It was years later, through her own vision and creativity, that she envisioned the role she has held for more than a decade. We have all been blessed by her passion, skill, and wisdom. I hope you will join us for Shabbat tonight as we honor Julie for her 19 years of devoted service to Beth Tikvah. Come prepared to sing, whether you call it shira or zimra, our voices will help us celebrate such a special milestone. 

Mazel tov to Julie and her family!

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

May 22, 2026

Earlier this week, there was an attack on a mosque in San Diego in which several individuals were murdered. Our sympathies extend to the entire Muslim community. No one should ever be murdered in their house of worship. We in the Jewish community know this pain, suffering, and fear all too well.

Each year at this time, I take a moment to recognize that many in our community are celebrating graduations. So many of our young people have walked—or will walk—with their classes in the coming days. This year, I have the honor of being the parent of one of these graduates. On Sunday morning, Zoe will put on her cap and gown and receive her high school diploma from Worthington Kilbourne High School. To say we are proud and excited is an understatement. The little girl who used to run to the bimah after services to be held by her dad has worked so hard to earn this moment.

While no one gives me a microphone to address our graduates, if I did, here are three lessons I would offer them.

Show Up

There is a beautiful teaching I learned from Rabbi Sharon Brous’ brilliant book, The Amen Effect. In ancient times, when people ascended the steps of the Temple in Jerusalem, they would enter, turn to the right, walk counterclockwise, and exit near where they had entered. However, someone who was suffering—one who was grieving a loved one, someone who was lonely, or someone who was ill—would enter with the crowd, turn left, and walk clockwise, moving in the opposite direction from everyone else. The entire community would know that this person was in pain. Those walking to the right would see them and say, “May God comfort you. May you be wrapped in community” (The Amen Effect, p. 3). To live in community, we must see those who are suffering and not just see them but be present for them. To walk through the world alone, bereft in grief or living with pain, reminds us that life is filled with mountains to climb. Seeing pain is not enough. Reaching out and showing up in a moment of need is an act that will be remembered forever. When your friend is in need, show up. Be there for them.

Open Yourself to Learning and Personal Growth

When we graduate, our hearts are filled with pride. We know so much because we have learned so much. But we cannot let our learning stop. Life brings profound experiences that offer moments for growth and reflection. You who are graduating are amazing people, but as you enter the world, work, and continue learning in college or graduate school, 10 years from now and 20 years from now, you will be different people. Life will come your way. Reflect on what happens and learn how those moments influence you to do differently and to do better.

In Pirkei Avot, the ancient collection of ethical teachings—which I jokingly tell our B’nai Mitzvah students should be titled “The Rabbi’s Greatest Hits”—the sage Yose ben Yoezer teaches: “Let your house be a meeting place for the Sages; sit in the dust of their feet, and drink in their words with thirst.” Make your home a place of learning and a gathering place for the wise. Sit at their feet and learn with thirst. That thirst reminds us that learning must never stop learning. Every person and every moment offer an opportunity to learn, we just need to remain open to it.

Kindness Matters

As I concluded the counting of the Omer on Wednesday evening, I read Rabbi Karyn Kedar’s words in Omer: A Counting, CCAR Press: “And know, of all the words I have found, kindness is the most powerful. It can transform the world. At the end of my days, the only thing I will regret in my life are times when I was unkind.” Psalm 89 reminds us that the world was built on a foundation of kindness. As builders, we lay the bricks of that foundation. Though it lies beneath the surface, it provides the strength and support we need to withstand life’s storms. Those storms have the potential to shape us or to harden our hearts. Kindness brings warmth from the depths of our souls. Let it burst forth and remember that kindness has a lasting impact.

There is one more bonus message I want to offer. Our young people are entering a world where too many harbor ill will toward Jews and toward Israel. Sadly, many of you have already encountered such hatred during your youngest years. Your Judaism lives within your heart and soul. It provides a pulse and rhythm by which your life beats. There are those who will try to take that from you. Don’t let them.

You know who you are. Beth Tikvah has planted sacred seeds of Jewish tradition and Jewish values within you. Water those seeds with every mitzvah you perform and every Jewish moment you celebrate. The Jewish people need you. Remember: kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh—all Israel is responsible for one another. The Jewish people will support you, and you, in turn, will support the Jewish community.

Mazel tov to all our graduates.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach,

Rabbi Rick Kellner

May 15, 2026

We have entered the wilderness. The fourth book of the Torah reflects the Israelites journey through the midbar, this intermediary period from the moment we left Egypt and received Torah to the time we entered the land of Israel. Torah commentator Aviva Gottleib Zornberg explains in her commentary, Bewilderments, that the book is intended to capture a brief episode in our history, but she explains, it tragically swells to deathly proportions. We imagine a moment in our people’s story when we are essentially homeless. It is a time period that ultimately sees one generation go and another come. That image is meant to change the mindset of Egyptian slavery, not to forget the story but to know that the lived experience of our slavery could not build a new society. As we wander throughout this land that is largely uninhabitable, we encounter little bushes with sharp spikes, there’s sand and rock all around us. We are hungry and thirsty; we long for what was because we cannot see a better future. This experience is fragile; we are vulnerable; we are attacked from behind; we battle for our future. The JPS Torah commentary calls the midbar uninhabited and unirrigated pastureland where Moses takes the flocks to pasture. As a shepherd he has some familiarity with this. We know from the citation of Michael Walzer’s words in Mishkan Tefilah that, “wherever we go it is eternally Egypt that there is a better place, a promised land; that the winding way to that promise passes through the wilderness.” Walzer’s enduring lesson to us is multifaceted. Our experience in Egypt is eternal; it lives in us and calls to us from the depths of history. We reach moments that are like a promised land, but we can only get there when we wind our way through a wilderness, a place where we encounter other challenges and obstacles that will help us reflect and grow.

One might argue that metaphorically in this moment in history, the Jewish people are in another wilderness. It is a time when we are constantly attacked from multiple places. The trauma of October 7^th still lives within us. As Israelis are striving to rebuild their lives. Americans Jews are facing antisemitism on campus and on social media. Though the ADL reported the number of antisemitic incidents in 2025 decreased from 2024, the number of violent antisemitic attacks increased. We see this with attacks on synagogues in Jackson, MS, and West Bloomfield, MI. Jewish life across Canada, Europe and Australia is increasingly difficult. Many are asking themselves the question, is it time to leave, and if not today then when? This is a barren wilderness in which we feel threatened, when the likes of the Amalekites or others attack us. And we are being attacked wherever we turn.

Before I continue, I need to offer a warning, what I am about to discuss may be quite graphic and triggering and so I want to preface these words with that warning. I imagine most of us have read or at least heard about Nicholas Kristof’s opinion piece in the NY Times this week entitled, The Silence That Meets the Rape of Palestinians[i]. The piece contains no less than 14 claims about brutal sexual abuse and rape by Israeli prison guards perpetrated against Palestinian prisoners in Israeli prisons. The charge is not that there were just incidents but “Israel employs systemic sexual violence that is widely practiced as part of an organized state policy.” Before continuing, I want to be clear that allegations of rape and sexual abuse need to be taken quite seriously and investigated. We know that there are incidents of sexual abuse, and those incidents must be dealt with, and those perpetrators must be punished. Every prison system in the world has issues of abuse and those issues must be responded to accordingly but to make a claim that Israel’s is systemic takes isolated incidents a step further into the world of blood libel.

Of the claims Kristof makes, twelve of them have no names attached, and no date or time, they occurred. He also publishes the claims of the Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor as fact. This group is long known to be affiliated with Hamas. To justify his claims, he approaches former Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, who was Prime Minister over twenty years ago. Olmert is quoted in the article saying, “Do I believe it happens? Definitely. There are war crimes committed every day in the territories.” The day after the opinion piece was published Olmert said, “Mr. Kristof’s article includes claims of extraordinary gravity, that Israeli authorities have directed the rape of children, that dogs have been used as instruments of sexual assault, that systemic sexual torture is state policy. I did not validate these claims.” 

Olmert references what maybe the most outrageous claim of the opinion piece, that Israel trained dogs to commit sexual abuse and assault. Not only is this scientifically impossible, as Matti Friedman explains in the Call Me Back Podcast with Dan Senor[ii], it is a claim that has been around in the fringes of anti-Israel conspiracists for years but had been ignored by mainstream media because it was ridiculous. What Kristof has done is brought it into the mainstream. Matti Friedman is a well-respected journalist who used to work for the Associated Press, he has published several books. Friedman teaches us about the historical approach to delegitimize Israel. First there was the apartheid claim which got some people upset, then you make the claim that Israel is a genocidal state, something worse than being an apartheid state. Last year claims surfaced about Israeli soldiers intentionally shooting children, and that Israel was intentionally starving Gazans. Friedman explains that you have to keep coming up with more and more charges so that Israel and Israelis can look terrible in the eyes of the world.

I want to offer two more reflections. This piece appeared in the opinion section of the NY Times, not the investigative journalism section. Kristof could publish it appearing as investigative journalism because the opinion section editors would not push for fact checking. Second, this piece appeared in the Times the day before Israel was set to release a well-documented and researched report of Hamas sexual violence on October 7^th that is corroborated with Hamas’ own video evidence published to social media on that day. What we are seeing is a systemic effort to delegitimize Israel in the eyes of the world. The efforts work this way, if something horrific was committed against the Jews, like genocide perpetrated by the Nazis, then the Jews must be guilty of it too. If Hamas committed sexual violence against Israelis, then Israel must be doing it too. This effort makes claims that Israel is among the worst perpetrators of crimes against other humans. It delegitimizes Israel on the world stage which also results in those filled with hate to aggressively attack Jews around the world.

Matti Friedman helps us understand a framework for which we can approach an understanding of this blood libel. Back in 2014 for an article in the Atlantic, he wrote that “Western media has become less an observer of this conflict and more of an actor in it.” They are fueling the fire that is raging all around us. He invites us to think about such a piece in two ways. First, we might ask the question, is the writer trying to make Israel better or is the writer trying to make Israel go away? Kristof is not trying to make Israel better which begs the question is the conversation about it even worth having. For Friedman, if the discussion is about “how to make Israel a better country, a more moral country, a more successful country, a better place to live for Jewish citizens, for Muslim citizens, I’m very much interested in having the discussion, which is, I think, the most important discussion.”

If one needs further evidence of this, on the same day the NY Times published Kristof’s opinion piece, it also published an investigative journalism piece entitled, “How Israel Turned Eurovision’s Stage Into a Soft Power Tool.” The article sites numerous instances in which Primer Minister Netanyahu and the Israeli government advertised and encouraged voting in the contest. Government involvement is forbidden, according to Eurovision’s rules. What the piece fails to mention is that Israel was responding to efforts made by other countries to exclude it from competition. I decided to search the word Eurovision in the NY Times search bar to see how often articles about the contest appear in the newspaper. In 2025 and 2026 there have been 15 articles about Eurovision. Only five do not discuss Israel and the political situation. Two about how to watch, two about the favorites, and the last is about a new Eurovision contest beginning in Asia. Every other piece about Eurovision in the last two years involves some discussion of boycotts, Israeli influence in the voting, or something to do with Israel and the recent war. One cannot help but wonder if there is an agenda behind all this.

As consumers of news, how should we respond. The Midrash might offer several options. Bamidbar Rabbah teaches us that Torah was given in fire, in water, and in the desert[iii]. Why? Because this is how a person should acquire Torah, with a fiery enthusiasm, in a calm manner to understand the Torah correctly, and with the desert, to be humble enough to recognize that we must empty our minds to acquire a deeper understanding. One member of Dan Senor’s team responded in such a way. That person, in preparation for the podcast, messaged Dan saying, “the hard part is that, even if the worst claims in the piece are distorted or false, that doesn’t make the real failures in the Israeli prison system, any less painful.” We know there are real failures in the system, and we, like many Israelis want those who perpetrated abuse or sexual violence to be held accountable. That is the humility we must bring to such a situation, recognizing that there were abuses and harm done. That must be corrected. Second, we must fight such blood libelous claims with a passionate fire with a hope that people actually realize the ludicrous nature of such claims. We must ask that journalism standards return to those that require sourcing and verification. And like water, we must remain calm, not react immediately and use our own internal wisdom to start asking questions.

One other approach may come in the second verse of our parshah in which we read Seu et rosh[iv]. It is usually translated as “Take a census of the whole Israelite community.” More literally, it means “lift up the head.” A Hasidic commentator, named Shaloh explains that the word literally uses the word rosh here which means head. It teaches us the importance of the Jewish people, that each is a head, each is important. Each member of the Jewish community must feel the responsibility for their individual actions, for every action can improve the condition of the world. This, then, must be our focus. There will always be writers like Mr. Kristof who sling blood libel at us. We know our focus is to do mitzvot and bring light into the world. In Theodore Herzl’s book entitled The Jewish State, his concluding words are, “We shall live at last as free [people] on our own soil and die peacefully in our own home. The world will be freed by our liberty, enriched by our wealth, magnified by our greatness. And whatever we attempt there to accomplish for our own welfare will react with beneficent force for the good of humanity.” Herzl’s vision for Israel is not for the sole benefit of the Jewish people. He believes our accomplishments will improve the world, they already have and may they continue to do so in the future,

Living in this wilderness is incredibly challenging. But we remember the wilderness is the place where Torah was given. Let us receive it with a profound openness so it can teach us a measure of discernment to decipher truth from fiction and a calmness to engage in the discussions about how Israel can become a better society for all her inhabitants. Kein yehi ratzon.

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[i] The Silence That Meets the Rape of Palestinians

[ii] All references to Matti Friedman’s insights are from Call Me Back – with Dan Senor: The Making of the Kristof Column — with Matti Friedman, May 14, 2026

[iii] Bamidbar Rabbah 1:7

[iv] Torah Gems, Volume III Bamidbar, English Edition

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

May 1, 2026

Each year, I look forward to Beth Tikvah’s Shavuot celebration. For years, we have called it Torahthon because, much like a telethon that goes on for hours on TV, the night of Shavuot is traditionally observed with hours of study lasting into the wee hours of the morning. Our study does not go that long, but we do take time to immerse ourselves in Jewish learning. The traditional name for this evening of study is Tikkun Leil Shavuot. The word tikkun, as we know, indicates healing or repair. Why would a night of learning bring us a sense of healing or repair? Or perhaps, why is a night of learning itself an act of healing or repair?

To answer those questions, we turn to the collective voices of our tradition. Bracha Seri, a Yemenite-Israeli poet, writes:

“With great awe I listen to my ancestors, reading, suckling from healthy roots, soaking in, tinkling through my soul—till the words ferment within—emerging, seeping through my heart, my life source.”

As links in the generations-long chain of Jewish tradition, we stand like trees with firm trunks and leaves stretching wide, providing shade. Flowers turn to fruit, to be picked by those who crave nourishment for a hungry soul. All of this is nourished from below by roots stretching deeper and deeper into the ground, drawing in water from pools lying far beyond our sight, and from above by the sun’s warmth as it converts light into energy.

Why is Torah likened to water, the rabbis once asked?

A midrash teaches that we read Torah on Mondays, Thursdays, and Shabbat because, just as a human being cannot go more than three days without life-sustaining water, so too a human being cannot go more than three days without life-sustaining Torah. While three days without Torah may not be detrimental to our physical health as three days without water would be, it is certainly detrimental to our spiritual health. The study of Torah is an invitation to immerse ourselves in the life-sustaining and guiding values Jewish tradition has to offer. However, it is not solely the words of Torah that guide us, but also the voices of our ancestors who taught and interpreted Torah as a guide for their own lives. Torah provides healing because its words nurture every aspect of our being.

Why is Torah likened to light, the rabbis once asked? The Book of Proverbs, the Jewish Bible’s collection of ancient wisdom, teaches us: “The mitzvah is a lamp, and Torah is light” (Proverbs 6:23). Just as the sun provides light to help a tree grow, so too the Torah provides light, sustaining our own Jewish growth. The rabbis of the midrash (Genesis Rabbah 3:6) teach that God took the light from the first day of creation and hid it away for future generations of the righteous to uncover. It is left to us, in every generation, to immerse ourselves in Torah study so that we may discover that light. Yet we know that we do not take that light in solely for ourselves. We use it to create fruit—mitzvot, our actions—which become a light to all those touched by what helps us grow.

Why is Torah study an act of tikkun? Because it raises up wisdom from generations past, brings us light that guides us on our path, and helps us reflect that light into the darkest places we encounter.

Written by Rabbi Rick Kellner