Why Judaism Matters to Me

On Wednesday August 2, the visiting faculty at Camp GUCI led services and shared brief personal reflections with campers about their individual Jewish journeys.  Rabbi Bodney-Halasz has shared her remarks with us.  Read more to learn about what drew Rabbi Bodney-Halasz into the rabbinate.

This evening, we, the faculty, are sharing with you about why Judaism matters to us. This is the question we really are answering when people ask us what led us to be rabbis or why we have chosen to dedicate our lives to being leaders in the Jewish community.

Judaism became meaningful to me here in Zionsville. The most significant moments in the formation of my Jewish identity happened here, at GUCI. I entered Shoresh nearly 40 years ago and it was the best. I returned home, remembering how much I loved living according to Jewish time, making Shabbat special, praying in my own words, harmonizing with friends during services, and intentionally making choices based in Jewish values.

During my last summer as an Anaf camper, I distinctly remember a visiting rabbi who came and spoke during services. This Rabbi, who I would later learn was Rabbi Gary Zola, brought me one of those “a-ha” moments of clarity. I sat on these benches, toeing the gravel beneath my seat as he talked about how we each have the power to make a difference in this world, in whatever capacity makes sense to us. That we all have the ability to become leaders and should strive to be leaders. Like a lot of you, when I was back at home, I was starting to figure out who I was and what types of things interested me. I was getting involved in various clubs, youth groups, and school organizations. And I often gravitated towards leadership rolls. So, his comment about becoming a leader really caught my attention. But then he said something that changed my life. He said: “For God’s sake, the Jewish community needs leaders too.” And right here, in this beit tefillah, I first considered becoming a rabbi.

Almost two years later, I took a trip known as the March of the Living. It began in Poland and concluded in Israel, to celebrate Yom HaAtzmaut, Israel’s Independence Day, in the Promised Land. One of the visits we made was to the Kotel, the Western Wall of the Temple mount. I remember sitting across from the wall, waiting for my friends to return. It was then that I had another moment of clarity. I imagined the links of a chain. And I thought about the thousands of years of Jewish life that made up that chain, that survived and thrived, even in times of adversity to reach this very moment. After all this time, there were still Jewish people praying at the same wall as our ancestors thousands of years earlier. This chain of tradition, shalshelet hakabbalah, could easily have broken were there to have been just one weak link. Were one generation to abandon Jewish life, we would not have continued. I wanted to ensure the chain remained strong. In that moment, I knew that whatever I did with my life, I wanted to play an important role in passing on our Torah, traditions, and values to the next generation.

Those two moments of clarity are what brought me to consider, very deeply, becoming a rabbi. I felt connected to the past, had hopes for the future, and wanted to spend what little time I had in my lifetime being God’s partner to make this world a better place. I also discovered that nothing makes me feel more at home in the universe than actively participating in the Jewish community. This is part of why community plays an important role in my rabbinate. There is strength in community; I’m sure you can feel it. It is deeply meaningful and spiritually fulfilling helping others mark sacred time, accompanying them in moments of joy and grief, studying and teaching Jewish texts and traditions, building relationships, bridging community, and participating in acts of tikkun olam, repairing the world.

I find that Judaism helps me to live with hope and to strive to live a holy life.    My faith provides strength and meaning to life’s challenges and disappointments. I do not believe that God intended any of us to be perfect; but that we might instead discover the holiness that exists within our brokenness. None of our biblical ancestors lived perfect lives, each with their own weaknesses and mistakes. But they strove to be better and to make every day count.

And so do I.

One of the richest elements of Judaism that draws me in is that it is both age-old and ever-changing.   It has looked different in every generation.  My teacher, Rabbi Michael Marmur, said it best: “The most traditional thing a Jew can do is change.”   Over the years, by evaluating and adopting new practices, rabbis have kept Judaism alive and relevant. It is important to me to be a part of this process of keeping Judaism accessible to us all.

All of this is part of what makes me feel at home in the universe. Each of you will soon discover what it is that causes you to feel at home. It is my hope that each of you explore all the possibilities that come before you, even those you didn’t predict. And if you feel called, I hope you will be ready to respond.