Are the kids all out of here? Good. I don't want them to hear this talk. I don't want to blow your cover.

I received a letter from one of our students this year, and I have permission to share it, though I have made it anonymous: not just because I want to preserve this student's privacy, but because I think it speaks for many in our congregation:

• whether they are young or old;
• whether they are children of parents who never went to any Jewish education as well as children of parents who were brought up having been taught in a Jewish school experience;
• whether they are children of parents and grandparents who model Jewish practice as well as of those who do not;
• whether they are children of mixed marriages or of in-marriages;
• whether they attend a Jewish Day School or a Jewish supplemental school like ours;
• whether they are children of parents who seldom mark Jewish occasions as well as of those families who regularly celebrate (and I do mean celebrating, as in enjoying) Shabbat and Festivals;
• whether they are children from families who have never been to Israel as well as from families who have traveled there, and have been positively moved by the experience.

Here is the letter:

I feel fairly uncomfortable bringing up Jewish stuff with my friends. I think the reason is that none of my friends are religious, so it makes me feel like an outsider. When I say that they aren’t religious, it means that they have no religion at all. It's just weird saying "Sorry, I can't do that with you because I have to go to Shabbat services instead.” Then comes the inevitable follow-up question "What's that? It’s an uncomfortable topic for me, because I don’t want to be thought of as “the religious kid.” I’d rather be “that guy.” Better would be just by my name and other reputation for my deeds and talents and personality.

And if I’m going to learn a language, it’s gonna be French or Spanish, not Hebrew. I don’t really know why I’m so shaky with the whole Jewish kid thing, I just am. I hope I’m being clearer than I think that I’m being.

Of course I thought this student's concerns came through clearly. I think every person in this room knows what this student meant, and exactly how they felt when they wrote this letter. Everyone has had to explain to her or his friend or family member why they joined a synagogue (not just this one), or why they don't eat this or that, or eat anything at all today because it's Yom Kippur, or not show up for work today. And then you get the follow-up question (which is not in the form of a question, so they would lose at Jeopardy™) that goes: "I didn't know that you were religious!"

It was a question because of the note of incredulity with which the person delivered that last statement. We can feel a question mark lurking inside the exclamation point. Who, you?Religious? I thought you were enlightened! Or maybe, I've never seen you do anything overtly Jewish: did I miss something?

Just as the laid out a question in the form of a statement, when we hear their statement, we'll usually feel a question bubbling up:

Will they still like me?

Will they still respect me in the morning?

(OK, I know, that's two questions.)

What would you say to this person, student, child, mature adult? Maybe I should ask you, what have you said to such people, to your friends, family members, children?

Some of you will need an answer really soon, for this question, in one form or another, is being asked more and more of parents in our congregation, especially as the students consider whether they wish to make the significant commitment to Bar/t Mitzvah training. Our Bar/t Mitzvah class this coming year is 28 kids. It would be seven more, but some of the kids decided not to go through it, for a host of reasons, but among every students' list of reasons was some version of this letter.

Others need an answer today, for themselves. Forget about students! This applies to the adults, too!

Some believe that all of the underlying causes for letters like this to be written by Jews stems from our emancipation from the Ghettoes and Mellahs, (Mellahs are the Muslim equivalent of a Ghetto). Once we were out we could experience all that the world had to offer, and it was so engrossing that we just did not have time or interest in remaining within the Jewish community's walls, even if those walls only existed in our thoughts.

America has a song about this phenomenon, born of the US Doughboys' experiences on leave from the Western Front in Europe during World War I: "How you gonna keep 'em down on the farm, after they’ve seen Paree?"

By this point you may be thinking that I have an answer to this question. You may be thinking that if I only live my life differently, go to services more often, celebrate Shabbat more often with better food, send my child to a Jewish Day School, things will be different. If you are thinking these thoughts, then either you did not listen to how I began my talk, or you did not believe me when I said that I have not found a variable that would rule out the possibility that our kids may not find answers in Judaism.

Of course, children who grow up in homes that do Jewish rituals regularly, and do them in a fun way, where everyone participates, organically and non-hypocritically learn that they are fun, whether they feel that they wish to override them for a concert or a party or a school sports activity. In fact, it would be strange for a child, or even a young adult, to be so committed to and involved in the celebration of Jewish activities unless they did not make them feel ignorant, or they were overwhelmingly fun, or unless their best friends were there. The same is true of the adults in our congregation, and in all congregations, and not just in Jewish congregations.

Young people, and people who are young at heart, are basically playful puppies, lolling about, looking for the next excuse to romp. It was because I learned how to romp well while I was in youth group that I connected with my Judaism. And it was because I continued to find ways to romp about in college that I continued on to rabbinical school.

But I am not a useful example, for our home was devoid of all Judaism until I asked to go to Sunday School (that's what we called it back then), when I was in 2 nd grade (because all my neighborhood friend were there). I was the one who brought things home to do, like light the menorahs I made with the candles the congregation gave me.

I do credit my family for joining a congregation so I could go to religious school. But, I'm not a good example, because I know that most of you here today did not become members because your kids were begging to go to Sunday School.

I am going to make some strange recommendations here, and, basically, before I do, I want you to know that the end of this talk was about three pages ago, when I said, "What would you answer this student?" We are all in the dark, here, folks. Basically, I challenge all of Etz Chayim's adults to answer this student's questions for themselves. Why should anyone subject oneself to being misunderstood and falsely labeled as religious?

There are a couple of tacks we can take when answering this question. The first one stems from our people's tradition in law and literature. We can re-define the word religious so as to take the sting out of it. There are many ways to do that, and I won't bore you with them this morning. If you want me to bore you with them some other time, call me, and let's have coffee.

Oh, sorry. Did I mention coffee on a fast day? Heaven forbid!

The second answer is that we can say, no, I am not religious, I am spiritual. Spiritual usually means that we are aware that not all of reality is visible or explainable, and that we can sense and intuit a Presence in the Y0u-niverse that comforts us and reassures us, while "religious" means we respond to that spirituality in regular ways.

However, I did my Dictionary research online, using Encarta's Dictionary of 1999, which I think, seven years out, may still be valid for these words. I reordered the definitions, for my own effect.

1. relating to the soul or spirit, usually in contrast to material things
2. connected by an affinity of the mind, spirit, or temperament
3. relating to religious or sacred things rather than worldly things and the one that absolutely surprised me:
4. showing great refinement and concern with the higher things in life

Boy, after that definition, I would guess we would all want to be described as spiritual!

Now, here is the definition of Religious:

1. relating to belief in religion, the teaching of religion,
2. following the practices of a religion;
3. and showing devotion or reverence for a deity or deities.

Those are not surprising. Here is a 4th definition, which did surprise me:

4. very thorough or conscientious! As in, I exercise "religiously."

Again, we would all want to be "thorough and conscientious."

Of course, playing word games with Religious and Spiritual won't impress a 12 year-old, nor will it sway most adults.

But let me explore the difference between religious and spiritual for a moment. Those who define themselves as spiritual do not necessarily feel bound by a set of practices. Some spiritual people I know make it a point not to be bound by any one religion, so as to be better able to have spiritual experiences among all spiritual traditions. I must say that, to a great degree, I enjoy being spiritual among spiritual people from most traditions, and, actually had the highest single spiritual experience I have ever had, besides the birth of my children, in an interfaith service done by a group of us seminary students from several traditions. But I digress.

Religious people are, as the Latin root of the English word says, "bound together by some thing." Res means a thing, and Ligio means to bind, as in the ligaments that bind our bones together. We are only religious in a community's terms. We can be spiritual in a vacuum. Religion implies actions. Some religious actions are actual and moral, and some are symbolic, demonstrating our place and our community's place in the Y0u-niverse. You may have noticed that I did not mention G0d. this is because, for all intents and purposes, Political Parties are secular versions of Religions, in that they are things that bind communities together morally, and even, at times, spiritually, and certainly symbolically, and with those symbols come rituals.

Rituals. Some people find the need for Hebrew in our rituals to be off-putting, and feel that they also make us feel ignorant if we don't know what it means. Now, I agree, especially when the amount of Hebrew is long, like everything we sing. These songs run the risk of causing those of us who are not Hebrew letter-ate (unable to decode Hebrew letters) or who are not fluent in the language to feel one-down, devalued, etc.

Let me say that the major reason to learn these songs, etc, in Hebrew is to be universalist in our worship. I know you may think that there is nothing less universalist about our services than Hebrew. That is true, in terms of people who are not Jews. But when we speak of Jews, the best thing we can do for ourselves and our children in terms of making them able to participate with Jews around the country, around the world, and in all kinds of Jewish experiences from liberal to traditional is to teach these Hebrew songs and blessings.

When I was on vacation in 1981, I went to a Reform Jewish service in Amsterdam. It was in the vernacular: Dutch. The only parts I knew were the Hebrew songs. When our congregants went with me to Israel in 1998 and 2004, even those of them who did not read Hebrew (i.e., the vernacular for Jewish worship in Israel) were able to participate there if they had been fairly regular service attenders here, for they could follow most of the songs there, which were very like what we do here.

In fact, English readings are too Orthodox for me. What I mean by this is that if I understand them, and I usually do, but I disagree with them, I have no way out. I am forced to agree with them or not participate. This is how I feel in Jewish creative services that are very touchy-feely, or very formal, or extremely political.

On the other hand, when we all sing Borei Pree haGafen, we mean "Wine is coming soon." Some of us may be thinking about relationship of Divinity to viticulture, while others are simply toasting G0d, or the holy day. Others may be thinking about the way the community sounds, and some, like Pavlov's dogs, start to salivate at the sound of the blessing knowing that a tasty gulp of Manischewitz is on its way. It doesn't matter. The ritual unites us in a deed, a religious act, but lets our minds wander where they may.

I had a professor of philosophy in rabbinical school, Dr. Alvin Reines, who made a distinction between the Seventh-day Shabbat and the State-of-mind Shabbat. He said that one could do Shabbat on Tuesday if that were more possible, and have a rewarding experience on that Tuesday, if one were in the state of mind to do so. It could even be a better experience than on a Seventh Day Shabbat if one were not in the right state of mind, if we felt that the calendar were coercing us to do something when we were not ready or able or willing to do so.

I agree with him, but only theoretically, because if I try to do Shabbat on any other day of the week than Shabbat, I will not have community with me. And why does that matter? It matters because people amplify our experiences in ways that doing things alone may not. For example, if we were to decide to hold a funeral half a year later than the death of our loved one, people would not know what to do, and, basically, the experience would be full of people feeling haltingly insecure, unduly stilted. And, in the mean time, people would not know how to react to you for a while, more so than if you had held the funeral on time.

Additionally, were someone in our congregation to stand among their Jewish peers and say the Kaddish, when they were done people would ask them for whom they were mourning. Kaddish, like all symbols and rituals, is a way of communicating with a community in a non-verbal way. I could just speak the cadence of the Kaddish with nonsense syllables and you would recognize it, if you have been schooled to do so. But the most important thing about this is that when our congregants grieve over the death of a loved one, and invite the congregation to their home for a Shiva Minyan, a regular weekday service that gives them the opportunity to say Kaddish, they are always buoyed by the spirit of those who show up from the congregation, people who come just in order that there be a minyan. Unless you have had it happen for you, you may not believe me. But if you are one of the many families in our congregation for whom this has been true, tell your friends so they don't think I am making this up.

Anyway, the definition of doing things religiously is doing them with commonly understood symbols, like words, time, ritual foods, and ritual greetings. It means doing things in a culturally-defined way that allows people to participate fluently and gracefully along with you, while thinking their own thoughts. Of course, if you don't know Hebrew, it is harder to be graceful and fluent, but that is why we put the transliteration for all the Hebrew on the same page.

I said that I did not have the perfect answer to this student's questions but, I did have an answer. The student, whom I'll call Solomon because he possesses a wisdom beyond his actual years, actually gave it to me in the course of our conversation. Solomon said that on occasion his friends have been invited to the family house for Shabbat dinner. All Solomon's friends love that dinner, because of the tasty main course that the family serves. Just to let you know a little of how you could incorporate this family's success stories into your own lives, this item is a take-out specialty, since both parents work outside the home, and don't have the time to cook up a full Shabbat dinner before coming to services. If take-out is what you look forward to, then, by all means, do take-out!

I told Solomon that in our house as well, our daughters sometimes have guests for Shabbat dinner. Most of their guests are from families, Jewish included, who do not have a special Shabbat dinner. When kids see the full spread of food, they don't mind the other rituals that precede it. In fact, most people do respect people who have values and traditions, and who live those values and traditions, as long as they are good people and their traditions stand for goodness. So, inviting non-Shabbat-observing friends over is a good way of dispelling the strangeness of why someone might not be able to attend a Shabbat event on time.

I say "on time," because the rule in our home, as well as, just by chance, the rule in Solomon's home, is that all the family members are home for Shabbat dinner, but they may go out afterwards to the parties and dances. On occasion, when we can, we even make these after-dinner events more possible by holding our Shabbat dinner a bit earlier. We go half-way to compromise, to affirm our kids for doing the same.

But this only works in a home where the whole Shabbat thing is consonant with the rest of the family's values and practices. Instituting this kind of Shabbat when the kids are in middle school, already, would be very difficult. So, if this sounds like something you want to do, and your kids are young, start doing Shabbat now, so that it will be more natural to all involved. Solomon's situation worked because Solomon's family was already celebrating Shabbat on a regular basis, and already inviting his friends over, so that I could point out to him that they actually admired his family values, as well as their tasty take-out Shabbat dinners, even though the family went through the table rituals of candle lighting, and Kiddush, and haMotzi.

And what of those adults who do not do this with children, but have the same problems of whether or not to do this in front of their "non-religious" Jewish and non-Jewish friends and family? The answer is the same. If this is something you do because it is meaningful to you, and you do it well, and with good humor, your friends will understand this and likely back you up. even if well means the best take-out food you can afford, or a nice leisurely dinner in a restaurant, with wine and candles and bread, then you may well find that your friends will respect both your transcendent commitments to your values, as well as to your flexibility in living them out.

I have been making a case for religious practices, done in a community, and in a home whose values and practices are consonant with such an approach. Let me sum up now, and end with two things.

First, I do not have an all-inclusive answer to the question with which I started this talk, namely, "Why should I be different from all the people who have no religion when it keeps me feeling funny about myself, and when I will be asked, over and over again, to weigh whether to go to this secular event or celebrate Shabbat or Yom Kippur with my family and community? Why should I do it when all I get is grief about it?"

Second, I will offer some advice to the family members of people who are weighing this question. Here it is: don't be Jewish for someone else. Period. Not for your parents, and not for your children, and not for your life-partner. Do it for yourself if you are going to do it.

But don't do it by yourself. There are many in this congregation whose families do not come with them to participate in Jewish activities. If your family is an anchor, weigh anchor. Do it for yourself, but not by yourself.