Community at Temple Israel
Rabbi’s Message – August 6, 2026
Next week we enter the month of Elul, the season that begins our spiritual preparation for the High Holy Days. We hear the shofar. We engage in cheshbon hanefesh, an honest accounting of our lives. We reflect on our relationships—with God, with others, and with ourselves.
One of the customs of Elul is Kever Avot, the practice of visiting the graves of loved ones before Rosh Hashanah. At first glance, it seems to be a tradition about cemeteries.
But I don’t think that is what lies at its heart.
Not everyone has a grave to visit. Some have loved ones buried thousands of miles away. Others have relatives whose resting places are unknown, including families forever changed by the Holocaust. And yet the tradition endures.
Perhaps that is because Kever Avot is not ultimately about a place. It is about remembering the people whose lives continue to shape our own.
That has always struck me as significant. Before Judaism asks us to examine ourselves, it first asks us to remember. Before we ask who we hope to become in the coming year, we remember who helped make us who we are.
Parents, grandparents, teachers, mentors, friends, and loved ones continue to influence us long after they are gone. Taking time to remember them is not separate from the work of Elul. It is one of the ways Elul prepares us for the year ahead.
Our congregation has been living that truth in its own way this year. As several longtime staff members have retired or moved on, we have had the opportunity to reflect on the countless ways they quietly shaped Temple Israel over many years. Their work often happened behind the scenes, but it touched our worship, our learning, our celebrations, our sorrows, and the daily rhythm of congregational life. Taking time to express our gratitude is not simply about looking backward. It helps us recognize the foundation on which we continue to build.
Communities remember in much the same way.
This week marks seven years since the Oregon District shooting. For some, this anniversary is deeply personal. For others, it has become part of Dayton’s shared memory. As Elul approaches, I’m reminded that remembering is not about remaining in the past. It is about honoring lives that mattered and allowing those memories to shape the kind of community we continue striving to become.
Perhaps that is one of Elul’s quietest insights: before we ask who we hope to become, we remember those who have helped make us who we are.
May this season of reflection prepare our hearts for the year ahead. May we carry forward the wisdom, love, and gratitude of those who have shaped our lives. And may the memories of those lost in the Oregon District be for a blessing.
Zichronam L’vracha.
My husband died unexpectedly 14 days before Rosh Hashana, during Elul. I will always be grateful Rabbi Bodney-Halasz stayed with me at the hospital for hours after his death. I’m aware this time of year is very demanding for Rabbis and for the staff at synagogues and temples, and I will always appreciate the kindness and care she expressed that day.