Eight years ago, Lucy and the kids and I celebrated the High Holy Days in this sanctuary, as members of Congregation Beth Am. The following year, we celebrated the High Holy Days at the Women’s Club in Palo Alto, as members of Congregation Etz Chayim. For the past seven years, apart from the Women’s Club, we have celebrated High Holy Days at Rollnick Auditorium at the JCC, Cubberley Auditorium in Palo Alto and last week at Gunn High School. And here we are today back in this sanctuary, as Congregation Etz Chayim. It’s been quite a journey over the past seven years.

    My name is Robert Berman. Karen Kennan and I are the Co-Presidents of the Etz Chayim Board. And no, I’m not here to go through the announcements this morning; that comes later. I’m here because, despite the wonderful journey of the past seven years, as I assess where we are as a Congregation; as I look ahead to the next phase of our growth; I see areas where we are clearly going through some growing pains; where we are going to need to help each other as we continue to build the Congregation. We face some interesting challenges over the next few years, and it is important that all of us in Etz Chayim understand what they are, what the alternatives are, and that each of us, in our own way, starts thinking about and grappling with these issues.

    Six families got together in February 1995, under the inspiration of Michael and Tricia Vinson, to discuss the formation of a new congregation serving the mid-Peninsula. We were looking for a combination of community and learning. To quote the original Mission Statement: "Congregation Etz Chayim is a liberal congregation emphasizing spirituality in a family-oriented and participatory environment. We wish to foster and strengthen a congregational sense of community – a place where members will feel ‘at home’." And later in the Mission Statement: "Our services will encourage congregational participation with the intention of educating the congregation and making the ritual more accessible to all. While we are rooted in tradition, we recognize Judaism as an evolving religion which encourages the creation of new traditions as it respects the old." And on the subject of education, we wrote: "Education is a high priority of the congregation. It is our goal to provide meaningful and substantive adult, family and youth oriented programs according to the needs and desires of our members."

    As a small group in the early years, we all participated in everything. We learned songs together. We developed ritual as we evolved together. We put out chairs together, put them back together, swept the floor together, brought food for onegs together. We even elected ourselves as the first Board of Directors of Kehillat Etz Chayim. For Lucy and myself, this was all new. We had been members of congregations for many years, but not like this. We had paid our annual dues, attended occasional services, made sure the kids were enrolled in Hebrew School and Sunday School; but this was different. Etz Chayim required not just our money and our kids; it required us to be involved in everything.

    For me, this was terribly intimidating. I grew up in South Africa, in a family that was deeply Jewish, but not deeply religious. We were members of the local Orthodox congregation; but only attended services a few times a year. I remember services as cold, serious affairs, all in Hebrew (which I didn’t understand) and which went on for hours. The best part was the sermon, when us kids were allowed to leave and go play outside. I remember feeling almost like an outsider. While this was my religion, I didn’t seem to belong; certainly didn’t feel comfortable amongst all those old men muttering away in Hebrew, interspersed by the occasional "shhhhh" directed as I recall not at the children (we were too afraid to make noise) but at our fathers, deeply immersed in business discussions with their friends and neighbors. In terms of observance, my family fitted the mold of the newly-formed Reform congregation, but by tradition we remained members of the Orthodox shul; there is no way my parents would ever have joined the renegade Reform group. So, despite the fact that I went to Hebrew school for many years; survived my Orthodox Bar Mitzvah; and even learned, as part of my Bar Mitzvah training, to conduct the Friday Night service, over the next thirty years I managed to forget most of what I had learned. I remained deeply Jewish, but not deeply religious. Then there I was, in 1995, a founding member of Congregation Etz Chayim. Not only was I intimidated; I was terrified of what I might be expected to know.

    That was seven years ago. In the context of Judaism, seven years is a fleck of time, nothing at all. In the context of Silicon Valley, it’s a life-time (think of how many large companies today barely existed in 1995; think of how many companies have both come and gone during that time!) For me, the past seven years in Congregation Etz Chayim have been overwhelming. I have participated; I have learned (not enough, but I have learned); I have broadened; I have enjoyed. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong. I may not yet be, in Ari’s definition, a serious Jew, but I’m a lot more serious about it than I used to be. I’m still not deeply religious, but I feel inspired by our services, comfortable with my Jewishness, and humbled by the drive and spirit of the Congregation. Our wonderful Rosh haShanah services last week were a fitting testament, in so many ways, to how far we have come as a Congregation over the past seven years.

    We know that, on the seventh day, G0d rested from the work that he had done. In many institutions, after seven years, you get a sabbatical. Unfortunately, Etz Chayim doesn’t work that way. We cannot rest. While we are coping with our Rabbi’s "sabbatical" of his voice, the Congregation cannot take off the next year to regain its strength. There are too many challenges ahead that need to be addressed sooner rather than later.

    To me, the first challenge is how we go about keeping the enthusiasm and the involvement of all the wonderful people who make this Congregation run, every day, every week, every Shabbat, every program. From service leaders to event organizers, from teachers to schleppers, from builders to bakers, from donors of money to donors of time; without these volunteers, we would have no Congregation. Vibrant Congregations are not made by Rabbis or Administrators or Educators; they are made by the desire of the membership to build and grow and learn; by their time and commitment to Judaism and to the congregational community; and by the ability of the Staff, (the Rabbi and Administrator and Educator) to guide and help them in that journey.

    When I look around the Congregation, however, I am concerned. I see some of our earliest members who have lost the spark of excitement for the Congregation. I see volunteers getting tired after years of work for Etz Chayim. I see committees that need chairpersons and members. I see ideas for new programs sitting idle because we don’t have the people to make them happen.

    So, one of my wishes for the new year is that this spirit of enthusiasm and involvement that has made Etz Chayim what it is today, spreads out throughout the Congregation; that our new members, and our intimidated members, and our uninvolved members are swept up in the desire to help, to build and most of all, to learn, in the way that I was swept up in the helping and building and learning over the past seven years. The good news is that there are so many things to do, ways to become involved, that whatever your focus, you will find something within the Congregation to pique your interest, to get you involved. The first step is always the hardest; getting involved the first time. The smart way to do this is to decide which area of Congregational life interests you, and call the Office or Committee Chair to make the contact. Or you can wait until someone calls you, which historically was a good way to hide, as we haven’t had a formal system for matching member interests with Congregation needs. However, our new Congregational software system, which we’re in the process of installing, will make this easy, so hiding is going to become much more of a challenge than it has been in the past! And be warned, for if my experience is any guide, one thing will lead to the next; each experience a new one, until one day you’re President of the Congregation.

I have grown within Etz Chayim to the point where I was comfortable joining Karen Kennan as Co-President of the Congregation for the new year. Both Karen and I are excited about the opportunities for continuing to build programs and community within Etz Chayim. We’re hoping that this year will see us in our own home (at last), which we believe is an absolute necessity to continuing to build the spirit and the life of the Etz Chayim community. We also have to agree a new contract with our Rabbi, as the current contract ends the middle of next year. And if I am a little apprehensive about the job, it’s because of what happened in Cape Town forty years ago. No one in my family has ever helped lead a congregation. The closest we got, in South Africa, was when a close friend of our family was elected President of the Congregation. Finally, I knew one of the people who sat in his morning suit and top hat in the grand box next to the ark; and when we went forward, after services, to shake their hands, he knew who I was and called me by my name. Unfortunately, he suffered a heart attack and died during his term; in fact, it was during a particularly contentious board meeting that he died. The story was that they were debating the renewal of the Rabbi’s contract at the time…

And indeed, I see our second challenge as one that has to do with our Rabbi. Not his contract, however; nor even his voice (which joyfully seems to be healing) but with his role within the Congregation. Ari Cartun has been our Rabbi for the past six years; first part-time, and then, two years ago, full-time. We were fortunate that a small start-up Congregation could attract someone with the depth of knowledge and learning and experience of Ari, and his contribution to building Etz Chayim has been profound and significant. The question we now have is, in the future, what role do we see for our Rabbi? Some in the Congregation want him to lead all services; others would rather that he continue to teach more of the Congregation to lead services ourselves. Some in the Congregation want him to spend more time teaching adult education classes; some want him to spend more time teaching in our youth programs. Some don’t want him really to be a teacher, but rather a true scholar in residence, helping others to teach themselves, and learning together with them. Prior to Etz Chayim, I had always assumed that the job description of a Rabbi was a fairly standard document, that all Rabbi’s did the same thing. What I have learned over the past seven years is that crafting together the skills and interests of a Rabbi with the needs of a Congregation is like a tapestry, a work of art, and as such, is always open to interpretation and critique.

    The third challenge revolves around the question of what we are. Etz Chayim is, to quote the Mission Statement, a "liberal" congregation. But, in American Judaism, there aren’t "liberal" congregations. There are Orthodox or Conservative or Reform or Reconstructionist congregations, but there aren’t "liberal" congregations. There are liberal congregations in England, but we’re in the United States. So, sometimes we call ourselves "independent", which certainly sounds better than "unaffiliated", which is what we are. The good thing about being "independent" is that it gives us the opportunity to evolve as a congregation in whatever way is comfortable to our members. The tough part is that, while this is an opportunity, it is also an obligation. If we were Reform or Conservative, we’d have a clear path to follow. But as "liberal" or "independent", we have to create our own path. Every step raises questions, requires debate, takes time. And then, as our membership evolves and changes, the decisions we made previously are questioned and challenged. It makes for wonderful, healthy, interesting debate, but it’s a tough way to run an organization. I am not proposing that we affiliate; indeed, the debate on whether to affiliate with Conservative or affiliate with Reform would probably make the alternative of continuing to evolve as an "independent" congregation seem like child’s play! But we are at a point where we need to understand what we mean by "independent" or "liberal". Over the next year, the Board will be tackling this question, to try to put greater definition behind it, and will look to everyone in the Congregation for input into these discussions.

   The fourth challenge has to do with the size of the Congregation. When we started Congregation Etz Chayim, we were very concerned about size. We all had been members of other Congregations on the Peninsula; all of which were so large that it was difficult for us to feel really at home. We enjoyed learning together, and the fellowship inherent in a small group. We were all involved in everything, and it was a very special experience. We talked about keeping it small, maybe 20 or 30 families, so we could maintain the closeness and cohesiveness of the group, but figured out that financially this was a non-starter, that we needed a larger group to afford a Rabbi and a School program and Administrative help. To this day, some of our early members still yearn for the small group of dedicated learners, and are finding it hard to adjust to the large and lively Etz Chayim you see around you today. To my deep regret, some of our early members have left the Congregation for this reason. And while I understand that members come and go (after all, my family left Beth Am to help start Etz Chayim), our challenge is to build a community that encourages our members to stay and to continue to grow within the Congregation.

    Ultimately, we wrote in the Bylaws of the Congregation that when we get to 300 members, the Board will establish a committee to (quote) examine ways in which the small community nature of the Congregation will be maintained, including, but not limited to (a) encouraging, supporting and assisting in the creation of a "spin-off" synagogue; and (b) exploring the question of placing a maximum limit on membership in the Congregation (unquote).

    As of last Thursday, we were at 266 members, including 216 families and 50 single members. That’s an average growth rate of over 80% a year. Even by Silicon Valley standards, that’s strong growth. Then there are the 34 trial members who joined for these High Holy Days, and whom we hope will decide to upgrade to full membership status within the next few months. We’re not at 300 full members yet, but we’re close. Within the next year, especially if we are successful in our search for a building, we’ll be there. Everyone says that with a building, our membership will grow by up to 25%. Assuming that’s what we want.

    We have always said we did not want to be a large congregation. Therefore, when we get to 300 members (or whatever number we then determine still fits within our definition of "small community nature"), what do we do? The easy answer seems to be that we encourage others, from within or without our congregation, to establish a new synagogue. We could lend them space (assuming by then we had space to lend), ideas, prayer-books, or administrative help. The problem with this option is not the spin-off congregation, which would probably grow and prosper as we have done; it is what would happen to the "old" Etz Chayim. Congregations need new members to give new blood and new ideas to the organization. As families graduate from the youth education programs, we need new families to take their place. As congregant volunteers tire, we need new ones to take their place. I struggle to visualize how this would happen if we closed the door to membership; yet without some control, we will end up so large that we will lose the "small community nature" that is integral to what we are at Etz Chayim.

    Alternatively, we could try to spawn a network of satellite congregations spread throughout the Bay Area, operating under the Etz Chayim umbrella. We could have the Etz Chayim Palo Alto campus, the Etz Chayim Sunnyvale campus, the Etz Chayim San Mateo campus… all of which sounds more like the Silicon Valley model! Or we could divide into groups focussed on our interests, which would allow the serious learners (at least, those with more time and focus) to learn together, the younger families to learn together with their children, and the rest of us to find ways to continue learning somewhere between the two? Again, I don’t have the answer, but I do want to pose the question so that we all start thinking about how we would like our congregation to evolve over time.

    And ultimately, the last challenge on my list is the challenge of funding all of this. After all, I was the first Treasurer of the Congregation, and who’s ever heard of a Synagogue that didn’t talk about money? Two years ago we launched a capital campaign, to fund a permanent home for the Congregation that it has taken us too long to find! But find it we will, hopefully within the next year. Thanks to the generosity of the 50% of the Congregation that we have met with, we already have pledges for $2 million. But when we find a building, the challenge is going to be raising the additional $6 million we are probably going to need to close the deal and up-fit the space. So please don’t be surprised when you get that call, and please give generously.

    I’m sure you noticed, when you sat down this morning, that there was a donation envelope on your seat. Giving on Yom Kippur is a tradition in many communities; it certainly was in South Africa when I was growing up. The more you gave, the better your seat for the next year. That’s not the way at Etz Chayim. After all, again to quote our Mission Statement, we’re an "egalitarian" congregation. We go for the "early bird catches the good seat" theory.

    But even egalitarian seats cost money. High Holy Day services this year will cost us around $15,000, which covers the rent of the facilities, sound systems, security, cleanup, advertising, printing, postage, break-fast, baby-sitting and the rest. The additional revenue we get from extra family seats will not totally cover this. Our overall budget this year is tight. Like many organizations, operating in a downturn is taking its toll on the Congregation. Our expenses, primarily rent and salaries, are fixed. Our income comes largely from membership dues, but what we have seen since dues invoices went out in July is causing us great concern. A number of members of the Congregation have left the Bay Area for jobs elsewhere, and have therefore not renewed their membership. In addition, the economic hardship that has resulted from layoffs and company closures and the decline in stock prices and the tanking of many stock option plans has left an increasing number of members unable to pay their full dues amount for the year. In previous years, we have been fortunate in being able to balance reduced dues against additional fair-share dues contributions. This year however, despite the generosity of the nearly 20% of our members who have made additional fair-share contributions, we will come up short.

    So I am asking you, on behalf of your Congregation, to take home the envelope that was on your seat and send it back to the Etz Chayim office with whatever you can afford to give, to help us balance our budget this year.

    Our Congregation has come a long way in only seven years. Despite the unanswered questions and challenges with which we will have to grapple over the next year, together we have created a very spiritual place, where despite our different backgrounds and different interests, we can pray together as Jews, learn together as Jews, and take pride in the history and heritage of the Jewish people. For me, it is summed up so simply and so well in the song we sang at the beginning of the Rosh haShanah morning service, and again this morning, from Psalm 133: Hineh mah tov uma na’im, shevet achim gam yachad. Behold, how good and how pleasant it is when people dwell together as family.