Do You Know What You’re Missing?
Jonathan Howard

When I was young, I asked my father, “If you don’t believe in God, why do you go to synagogue so regularly?” My father answered, “Jews go to synagogue for all kinds of reasons. My friend Garfinkle, who is Orthodox, goes to synagogue to talk to God. I go to talk to Garfinkle.” (Harry Golden, Newspaper Publisher/Author, 1902-1981)

Yes. I’ve wrestled for months with not only trying to find the right words to lure those not coming to Temple to come, but also with treading the fine line between good intention and meddling. Or enthusiasm and arrogance. For who am I to try to track down every wandering Jew? Who am I to say, “you don’t know what you are missing.”

I could lean on “it’s my job,” I suppose, since I am President of Temple Beth El. I could even try pushing a few “should” buttons in the hearts of every Jew who grew up going to Sunday School or studying to become bar or bat mitzvah. I too only showed up for the High Holy Days, once upon a time, for a time. It didn’t even nag at me; I had no thought of what I might be missing.

But then one day, shortly after moving to Charlotte, a friend said, “Jonathan, I’m going to Temple. Why don’t you come with me?”

Simply put, I was struck by wonder. Temple continues to this day to catch me by surprise. I walk in expecting a mere Board of Directors meeting and overhear a young boy practicing with the Cantor; his voice like God’s self, it’s so beautiful. Or on my way in to study, I bump into friends I haven’t seen for awhile. Temple Beth-El is at once bustling activity, camaraderie, and something fantastic to do nearly 24/7 - and the constant quiet murmur of prayer.

Yes. Temple at Temple Beth-El is far more than the High Holy Days. Over Chanukah, when I walked into the sanctuary, 150 lit Menorahs took my breath away - and brought far deeper meaning to the holiday we o� en think we’re celebrating for the children. On Martin Luther King Shabbat, we joined our brothers and from the AME Zion Church and how we rattled the rafters with emotional, deeply heart-felt song.

And in our special sanctuary set aside for prayer, I talk to God - not because the Talmud tells me to (Brachot 6b), but because “a man wants to praise God for the marvels of life, and to ask to be spared its terrors if possible, and to give thanks for what he has in hand, in health, family and work.” (Herman Woulk, This is My God)

Now, you can read about the Spice Program that puts a little spice into the lives of our seniors and hear about the Inclusion Shabbats ruffling our preconceived notions and inspiring compassion. Or I can tell you about how just thinking about the inspiring message of one of our young congregants and the sounds of our teen band at December’s Congregational Shabbat can turn an unsettling, grumpy day around. But so much is missing if you don’t come. Sudden bursts of surprise. Magical moments. Vague insights hovering in the mist. The calm of hope or conviction slipping over our souls.

Everyone who regularly attends is an integral part of the vibrant life of our Temple - whether at Shabbat or weddings, in classes, the hours you volunteer and in getting the word out. I thank you. And for those of you for whom Temple Beth-El beckons at times, but you never quite get around to it, remember the words of my friend: “I’m going to Temple, why don’t you join me?”