Words of Gratitude and Blessing for a New Year
As Jewish students celebrate the High Holidays at Hillels across the world, they are supported and guided by their Hillel staff. We are honored to share some of those words of support and guidance through excerpts from an erev Rosh Hashanah talk by Rabbi Adam Naftalin-Kelman, The Rosalinde and Arthur Gilbert Foundation executive director at UC Berkeley Hillel.
“1:45 p.m. has quietly become the scariest part of my day.
Every afternoon at around 1:35, you can find me wandering the building, gently asking, ‘Can you help make a minyan?’ Or you may have seen me post on Instagram: Don’t forget—Mincha at Hillel today at 1:45.
All of this so that I can say Kaddish for my father, Dr. Jerry Naftalin z”l, Levi Yitzchak ben Avraham Moshe veDevorah z”l, who passed away two months ago.
Since his passing, I’ve taken on the sacred obligation of reciting the mourner’s Kaddish, Kaddish Yatom, three times a day. I’m blessed to live in a community with a morning minyan where I can say Kaddish before work. But the afternoon service, Mincha, is harder to attend during our busy Hillel days. And so, at 1:45, Hillel has become my place, and you all have become my community. You are the ones I count on to help gather ten Jews so I can honor my father.
In the short month since the semester began, I’ve been deeply moved by how many of you have shown up. Some of you rush from class, some leave the kitchen mid-cooking, and others pause their studying. And every single one of you who comes never hesitates, never makes me feel awkward for asking. Each day, watching each of you join me upstairs in the Beit Midrash, I relearn what true community can look like.
Being part of this afternoon minyan is unlike most things you engage with on campus. It isn’t a club with an application. There’s no interview, academic pre-req, or theological requirement, not even a requirement to believe in God. The only qualification is that you consider yourself part of the Jewish people. You don’t have to believe in anything specific, know any of the words, or agree on politics. You just show up, and you are counted…
For a brief moment, this minyan lets us escape those boxes and simply see each other for who we are: Jews trying to navigate a complicated world, where groups from all political spectrums sometimes support us and other times demonize us. Showing up for minyan says: I’m here for you regardless of what you think about this policy or what symbol you wear. Irrespective of how you vote or what pins you have on your backpack. For this moment, our tradition pushes us to do something different. To make a minyan, we need to stand together beyond and outside of the boxes…
I don’t have to tell you that being Jewish on campus can sometimes feel lonely. In fact, being Jewish in the city of Berkeley can often feel lonely. Minyan, a community of 10, is one answer to that loneliness. By being in community, we choose to be counted, even when we disagree, even when someone asks a question that unsettles us. The minyan calls us to reject the impulse to shrink back or to divide into ideological camps. It calls us to show up, to be present, and discover that holiness lives here, in our togetherness.
Two weeks ago, on Friday, I texted my wife, Elana, that I was nervous we wouldn’t get a minyan. Friday afternoons at Hillel can be quiet; people are getting ready for Shabbat and the weekend, and 1:45 is probably the worst time for students. I posted a short reminder, and then, feeling a little sheepish and bad about it, I walked around the building asking people to join. And ten of you showed up, and together we created a space of holiness worthy of the Divine Presence.
When we reached the mourner’s Kaddish at the end of the service. The nine students responded in the Kaddish with:
יְהֵא שְׁמֵהּ רַבָּא מְבָרַךְ לְעָלַם וּלְעָלְ֒מֵי עָלְ֒מַיָּא (May His Great Name Be Blessed)
When we came to the line, your voices lifted my soul, and I was brought to tears. Your voices of support, reciting these ancient words, pierced my heart. If ever the words of the Kaddish were heard by God, that was the moment. It reminded me why I come to work every day. When I finished and turned to say thank you, one of you replied, ‘You don’t need to thank us. Thank you for giving us the opportunity.’ That is what it means to show up for the Jewish community. Not out of obligation, not just to help someone else, but because when we bring our whole selves, we too are transformed.
And it is often at the most complicated, most delicate, and sometimes most contentious times that are the most important for us to come together and be in community. Sara Hurwitz, former head speechwriter for Michelle Obama and author of ‘Here All Along’ and her recent book ‘As A Jew,’ articulates this by teaching that when we brush against the thin line between life and death, our tradition asks us to do the opposite of what feels comfortable, and to run toward one another. We don’t have to have the perfect answer. We don’t need to know what to say. We just need to run towards each other and show up.
As we move into Rosh Hashanah and another year, a year that, even I, as the perpetual optimist, believe will continue to pull us, challenge our community, and the Jews throughout the world. We need to show up for one another, not just in helping make a minyan (although I appreciate when you do show up at 1:45), but let’s show up for each other this year, be present without preconditions, be with each other without labels, create more spaces for the divine to dwell. When we gather as a minyan, a community of 10, we create an opportunity for the Shechinah, the divine presence, to be present with us…
…[This] is my way of passing on his legacy, of keeping his voice alive in our community. And every afternoon at 1:45, when we gather for minyan, when you show up, you give me, and all of us, the chance to see each other, be present for each other, to be counted, and to make holiness possible.”
Shanah tovah u’metukah.