Dear Friends,
Earlier this week, at our congregation’s Annual Meeting, Rabbi Klein, President Bryan Bloom, and I had the opportunity to share some personal reflections. As you might expect, it was bittersweet to attend my final Annual Meeting, but I am gratified to know that this community is in excellent hands and poised for a bright future.
I am honored to share our words with all of you.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Daniel Cohen
Rabbi Cohen’s Speech
Rabbi Klein’s Speech
President Bryan Bloom’s Speech
Rabbi Cohen:
I’m truly thrilled to be here this evening.
My first TSTI Annual Meeting was actually the spring before I officially became the congregation’s intern. Which means this is the 35th time I’ve had the privilege of addressing this gathering—and I remain deeply grateful to be here.
It is also the 25th time I have, as TSTI’s Senior Rabbi, had the responsibility of offering a State of the Congregation address.
So let me begin tonight with that.
TSTI is strong. It is strong because I have been blessed to work with extraordinary clergy and staff. TSTI is strong because we have extraordinary volunteer leadership. TSTI is strong because this community understands how important this place—and this sacred community—truly are.
And while there are certainly challenges ahead, change is always accompanied by challenges, I believe deeply that all the elements necessary to meet those challenges are already in place. That begins with Rabbi Klein taking her place at TSTI’s new Senior Rabbi and Heather Brochin becoming TSTI’s next President (once you vote in the slate in a few moments).
In fact, I believe TSTI’s tomorrow will be even stronger than its yesterdays.
I’m grateful that I will have opportunities to speak more personally next week, so tonight I want to focus primarily on our community and spend a few moments reflecting on where we were—and where we are. Because after 34 years, I am proud that the same core values and qualities that first brought me to TSTI are not only still present, but, I would argue, stronger than ever.
There is a teaching in Pirkei Avot that many of you likely know:
Im ein kemach, ein Torah. Im ein Torah, ein kemach.
Without sustenance there is no Torah, and without Torah, no sustenance.
Our ancestors understood something profoundly important: good intentions alone are not enough. A community—any community—requires both vision and resources. That was true then, and it remains true now.
Well… when I first arrived at TSTI, we had Torah but no kemach—there was literally no money. In fact, I arrived only to learn that the congregation did not actually have the funds to pay my intern salary. The budget wasn’t simply tight—it was precarious. There were real questions about the congregation’s future.
And then Tom Bass made a transformative gift in honor of his parents. That gift did more than stabilize the synagogue financially. It sent a message: This congregation had a future worth believing in. A future worth investing in.
From there, we began the long process of righting the financial ship. Those were difficult years. Every dollar mattered. Every expenditure was scrutinized. And at times there was a real “us versus them” mentality between the board and the staff as a result.
Over time, though, we not only righted the financial ship but we also built something different in how the congregation is run—we built genuine partnership between staff and leaders. And that spirit of partnership has carried this congregation through challenge after challenge over the years.
At the same time, thanks to a growing community of extraordinarily generous people, we began building the endowments and financial foundations that would help secure TSTI’s future. Because this community understands that we are the ones responsible for ensuring the future of this sacred community. No one else is going to do it for us. And I am deeply grateful to the many people who have already supported the current campaign—and grateful as well to those who still will. We are within striking distance of making this the most successful fundraising effort in TSTI’s history. And nothing would make me happier than leaving knowing the congregation stands in the strongest financial position possible.
Another major change in the time that I’ve been here has occurred in an area that is a passion of mine, which is technology. In this regard, the synagogue I walked into was almost unrecognizable by today’s standards.
We had a residential answering machine with micro-cassettes. One Mac computer. One Windows computer. That was essentially the entire technological infrastructure of the congregation. (For some of our younger members: a micro-cassette was an ancient device we used before voicemail existed.) We produced a monthly printed bulletin. Articles had to be submitted weeks in advance so they could be edited, printed, folded, stamped, and mailed. By the time the bulletin arrived, half the information was already outdated.
Today, through TSTI Today and digital communication, we can share the richness of synagogue life instantly and in real time. That is an extraordinary blessing. But it also comes with a challenge. Constant connectivity makes it harder than ever to step away, breathe, and simply be present.
It has become harder than ever to devote real time to family, community, or even ourselves. But that reality simply means we must become more intentional about creating those boundaries for ourselves. And if that is true for everyone, it is especially true for clergy and those engaged in sacred communal work.
One of the hallmarks of a healthy congregation with a strong future is a community that understands not only the importance of dedication and service, but also the importance of sustaining the people who provide that service. Your commitment to that balance—yes, for yourselves but also and especially for your clergy—is one of the reasons I remain so optimistic about TSTI’s future. After all, healthy boundaries are not signs of distance. They are what allow people, relationships, and communities to thrive over the long haul. That is true for everyone but, with technology eliminating many of the natural boundaries, it has become more important than ever.
And then there is one of the most noticeable changes we have encountered: the need for security.
When I arrived, the building was wide open. Literally. People came and went freely. Half the time no one even knew who was in the building. Looking back on it now, it feels less like synagogue security and more like a very trusting Airbnb.
Today, of course, we live in a very different world. And we are extraordinarily fortunate to have the professional security staff that protects this community and allows us to gather safely. We owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude.
The truth is, over these 34 years together, we have experienced enormous challenges:
We endured the trauma of 9/11.
Economic uncertainty and recession.
The COVID pandemic.
And now the aftermath of October 7 and the painful rise in antisemitism around the world.
Any one of those moments could have thrown a congregation into crisis. But rather than allowing challenge to divide us or overwhelm us, we responded the way this community so often has: by standing together, working together, and supporting one another. And because of that, we did more than simply survive difficult moments.
Together, we built something truly special.
But the truth is, none of what I’ve described tonight—the budgets, the technology, the buildings, the systems—none of it matters without people. People with vision. People with commitment. People willing to roll up their sleeves and do the work. And people willing to honor tradition while also remaining open to growth, change, and new possibilities.
And we have been blessed with such extraordinary people.
I want to begin with those who often work quietly behind the scenes:
Our custodial staff, who care for this building with incredible pride and devotion, making sure every room is ready for moments sacred and ordinary alike. And let’s be honest—they have also spent decades quietly cleaning up after the rest of us, which may in fact be the holiest work happening in the building.
Our security staff, who stand at the doors not only as protectors, but as reassuring and welcoming presences.
And our administrative staff, who somehow manage to keep a place as complicated as a synagogue functioning every single day with warmth, professionalism, patience, and grace. There should probably be a special blessing for synagogue administrators during the High Holy Days.
I also want to honor several people who helped teach me how to be a rabbi:
Cantor Ted Aronson
Sunny Seglin
Cantor Joan Finn
Leslie Sporn
Elizabeth Best
Rabbi Harvey Goldman
Carol Paster
Each shaped me in different ways. They taught me about service, integrity, relationships, compassion, and community. Their lessons stayed with me every step of this journey.
To our volunteer leaders—past and present—thank you.
And to our past presidents especially: it has been one of the great honors of my life to work beside you. You carried enormous responsibility, often invisibly and without recognition, because you cared deeply about this community and its future. And occasionally because no one else volunteered. Along the way, many of you became not simply colleagues, but dear and treasured friends.
I want to say a few words about Bryan Bloom.
Bryan became president after the COVID pandemic was fading into memory and we had made the transition back to the new normal we now enjoy. What he did not expect was that six months after he became president I would give him a bit of personal news that would change his presidency. Bryan has been an incredible partner to me during this time and incredible leader as we have navigated this period of transition and change. His calm, respectful hand, his wisdom and his menschlichkeit have all helped guide us. It became clear that having him take a third year as president as this transition truly occurred made the most sense and I am grateful to Bryan and to Jill for agreeing to do so.
Bryan, thank you for being an incredible leader, but more importantly, thank you for being such a good friend and trusted confidant.
To my colleagues on the senior staff: what a privilege it has been to serve alongside you. Each of you brings unique gifts, compassion, professionalism, humor, and heart to this sacred work each and every day. You made this community stronger simply by being part of it. And you made me a better rabbi.
For that, I will always be grateful.
There is a final teaching in Pirkei Avot that states:
Al shlosha devarim ha’olam omed.
The world stands on three things: Torah, worship, and acts of kindness.
I have come to believe that congregations stand on something similar: commitment, partnership, and above all, people.
And TSTI has been blessed with remarkable people.
So as I prepare to close this chapter and begin the next, I find myself filled with gratitude. Gratitude for the privilege of serving as your rabbi. Gratitude for the trust you placed in me, especially in those early uncertain years. Gratitude for the opportunity to celebrate with you, mourn with you, learn with you, and grow alongside you.
But most of all, gratitude for the relationships. Because in the end, that is not only what matters most—it is what truly lasts. Buildings evolve. Technology changes. Leadership changes. But the relationships—the ways we show up for one another, care for one another, and walk through life together—those endure.
As I will likely say often in the coming weeks: Few people are privileged to spend their entire career doing what they love, with people they admire and respect, and in the same place for their entire career. Thank you for the honor of allowing me to serve as your rabbi. Thank you for your trust, your friendship, and your love. And thank you for allowing us to walk this remarkable journey together.
Rabbi Klein:
There is a wonderful story that comes from the Talmud, the ancient compendium of rabbinic law. The story imagines that when Moses went up to the top of Mount Sinai in the moment of revelation, he arrived to find God sitting and adding flourishes, like tiny crowns, on the tops of the letters of the Torah. Moses is puzzled, and asks God: why do the letters need crowns? Who prevents you from giving the Torah without them? God responds to Moses, and says “several generations from now, there will be a man named Akiva ben Yosef. He will be such a great scholar that he will derive sacred teaching not only from the words of the Torah, but from every point on every flourish that I am adding now. So, for his sake, I am adding these crowns to each letter.”
Moses didn’t know whether to be excited or incredulous. He says to God, “master of the universe, let me see this man, Akiva ben Yosef.” God replies, “Okay, turn around and look behind you.” Suddenly, Moses finds himself sitting at the end of the last row in Rabbi Akiva ben Yosef’s study hall. Moses tries to listen to what Akiva is teaching, but he can’t understand them. Moses feels utterly defeated, believing that this must mean his knowledge of Torah was somehow deficient. In that same moment, Rabbi Akiva begins to speak about a certain topic and Moses hears one of the students ask him: “Rabbi, from where do you derive this teaching?” And Rabbi Akiva replies: “this teaching was transmitted from God to Moses on Mount Sinai.”
This, Moses understood and his mind was put at ease, because he realized that not only had God intended him to receive the commandments at Sinai, but that in letting him see into the future in Akiva’s study hall, God also intended for him to because he understood that this, too, was part of the Torah that God intended him to receive. God wanted Moses to know that future generations would build upon the foundation he established for them, and to be heartened by this, knowing that his teachings would endure through the generations to come.
Now, Rabbi Cohen is not Moses, and I am not Akiva. But collectively we are a congregation of Moses and Akivas—and in this moment we look ahead to our new chapter together with excitement, yes, but also for some, a certain amount of trepidation about the unknown. It is natural in such a significant moment of transition that we might feel worried, like Moses did, fearing that our evolving congregation might become unfamiliar, unrooted from what we’ve always been. And our continued evolution is only possible because we stand firmly on the solid foundation that Rabbi Cohen, and all of you, have established over the past three decades, and over the many years before that. Our roots are deep and unwavering—they will allow us to grow and flourish.
Moses is ultimately comforted by the realization that the Torah of our people is enduring, and is actually even stronger for the layers of meaning and commitment that each generation adds, one atop the other. As we express our deep gratitude for all of the leadership that has brought us to this moment, we celebrate all that we are and look ahead to our next chapter, knowing that we, together, will continue to go from strength to strength.
Ken y’hi ratzon – may this be so. Amen.
TSTI President Bryan Bloom:
I want to welcome you all to this year’s annual meeting in the Bass Sanctuary Building.
Thank you, Lisa (Menino). Just a word about Lisa. When I agreed to serve as President, my first request was to Lisa, a dear friend, to serve on the executive committee as our secretary. She has done an incredible job and has helped keep me focused and on top of things for three years. Lisa, I cannot thank you enough.
First, I have a good news/bad news joke. The problem with agreeing to an extra year is that I cannot remember what jokes I have told. I had a better good news/bad news joke, but I thought I had already told it.
But the theme of my remarks is that I have good news and bad news for the congregation. On the good news front, I have learned over the past three years what an incredibly dedicated staff and lay leaders we have at TSTI. Here are some stats on the staff. We are celebrating Mindy Schreff, who has been here for 15 years; Maria Camero, 20 years; Tracy Horwitz, 25 years; and the most beloved to me—Karen Patton, 30 years. From a lay leader’s standpoint, I reflect upon the accomplishments of the last few years: the hard work of the search committee, led by Sue Wishnow and Heather Brochin, to the dedication of the Board spending hours making sure we did our best to have the right transition plan in place. I can tell you that from a leadership standpoint, there is an incredibly deep and talented bench. Elise Joy and Marjie Terry, soon to no longer be immediate past presidents, have worked hard over the last few years recruiting younger board members and building the leadership pipeline.
More good news: last year’s transition, moving on from Carol Paster and replacing her with Lauren Byers and Jennie Rubin, was a home run. Lauren and Jennie have developed great ideas for generating revenue for the congregation and have continued Carol’s strong leadership within our preschool program.
What is the bad news? You will see that our budget, while balanced for the coming year, is ripe with risk. For all of the good efforts made to help TSTI succeed, the reality is that our financial life is as tenuous as that fiddler on the roof. While we have made sure that the budget reflects reality, there are more risks than opportunities for the next 12 months.
Which brings me to the fundraising efforts and our send-off to Rabbi Cohen. Rabbi Cohen will reiterate to you all his dream about securing the financial future of TSTI. The fundraising committee, led by Rich Ritholz, David Wishnow, Gary Shedlin, and Jane Randel, has worked tirelessly to reach out to the community to put in place a fund honoring Rabbi Cohen that helps do just that. And with the help of honorary chairs David Bershad and Andrea Baum, the efforts to date have been wildly successful, raising nearly $ in commitments over the next 3–5 years and beyond. That’s the good news.
The bad news is that this support has been provided by just a small percentage of the TSTI community. So I am asking you personally to please consider making a pledge to the Rabbi Daniel M. Cohen Fund for Jewish Life. We do aspire to raise at least another $1 million.
Lastly, I cannot close without touching on the transition to Rabbi Klein. The impact that Rabbi Cohen has had on the TSTI community and each of us as individuals cannot be put into words—at least not in the time I have been allotted. Any Temple losing its leader of 34+ years stands on the doorstep of uncertainty. But I can tell you that TSTI could not be better positioned than to have Rabbi Klein as its next Senior Rabbi. No one cares more about this community or is better prepared to lead. I implore you to get to know Rabbi Klein and see why the search committee and the board were so excited that she accepted the Senior Rabbi position.
Finally, a few thank yous. Thank you to Rabbi Cohen for his outstanding leadership. Thank you to my wife, Jill, and my family for allowing me to accept this role. And thank you to all of you, who have given me the honor of serving this community.