Not too long ago, I was visiting with a clergy colleague of mine.

We stopped at a grocery store where each of us needed to pick up a couple of items. I checked out first, looked around and found him in the self-checkout line. When I commented on the fact that I did not use those very often, he said, ìI love them. It is one less person I have to deal with.
We laughed together at the irony of clergy avoiding contact with people. After all, connecting with people is what we're supposed to do. Of course after a long day of connecting with person after person, a little downtime of isolation can be a welcome break.

But it made me think about all the ways technology has affected our connectedness. In the post-WWII world, innovations made connections easier. Television brought guests and world events into our living rooms without our ever having to open the front door. Expanded telephone service made it easier to keep up with faraway friends and relatives. Construction of the interstate highway system along with an increase in automobile ownership made travel throughout the country easier. And the increase in commercial airline traffic made it possible for people to move thousands of miles in just a few hours. No one had to be isolated because of distances. We could be connected with almost anyone at any time.

More recently, there has been a backlash against the over- whelming bombardment of people, events and information that invade our personal space and our privacy. Many people feel the need to protect themselves against the increased stress of an everyday world that has exploded beyond the manage- able confines of hometown life. Want to give information to someone without having to communicate? Leave a message on their answering machine. Want to communicate with someone without having to personally interact? Send an e-mail. Need to do some research? Want to go shopping? The internet allows you to explore the world without ever having to connect with another human being.

But we are social creatures. While the world can sometimes overwhelm us, we are not meant to convert our homes into fallout shelters or prisons. We need thoughtful, meaningful connections with others. And one place we find those connections is at Temple.

There are many places we can connect to each other through shared activities. There are social action projects, Wednesday night classes, committee meetings, choir rehearsals and Shabbat dinners. Temple offers a wealth of opportunities to pursue our interests or enrich our lives while sharing activities with like-minded, fellow congregants.

Many people are on a spiritual quest. With everything our world throws at us each day, the search for meaning and the meaningful is more pressing than ever. Judaism encourages us to do our soul-searching in the midst of community. We are told that we need a minyan in order to reach out in praise to God not because God requires a large audience, but because God knows how important it is that we walk with others in our journey toward the sacred.

And then there are times and places for reaching out to each other. As a Caring Community, we connect by extending a hand to those in need: those facing illness, loss or isolation. By our presence and our openness, we fill a void in the life of another while we fulfill our own desire for connection with others. The Susan Kramer Healing Center addresses the brokenness we all experience in our lives in one way or another by being a source of connection, comfort and community. The education and support groups help us to grow in some of the most vulnerable places in our lives in an atmosphere of safety and warmth. Knowing that we are not alone gives us strength during times of challenge.

We often say that the synagogue is a House of Prayer, a House of Study and a House of Meeting. While that is a nice image, I would take it one step further. I usually think of a house as a building. My experience of Temple Beth El is that it is so much more ó because when it is filled with the voices of our Temple family, it truly becomes a home.

L’shalom,
Andrew Bernard
Cantor