Dear Friends,
Next Friday, after ten years without missing a single week, I will send my final Shabbat message on this platform. As you might imagine, that reality has me reflecting on these messages and what they have come to mean to ME over the years.
The tradition of a weekly message began during the presidency of Sue Wishnow. Sue mentioned that the synagogue she attended when vacationing out west sent out a weekly message from the rabbi. It was a simple but brilliant idea for keeping in touch with the community. She suggested that I do something similar, and I was happy to give it a try.
At first, my messages were largely updates about synagogue life and upcoming events. But as our communications became increasingly digital and information about programs was readily available elsewhere—I LOVE the move from a monthly bulletin to twice-weekly TSTI Today emails—the messages evolved. They became an opportunity to reflect on the weekly Torah portion, current events through a Jewish lens, and the questions, challenges, and ideas that were on my mind. (Yes, at times they got a bit long. And yes, when they did I often heard about it. But hey, as always, I had a lot to say!!)
For the past decade, I have written these messages every week without fail. Even during vacations, sabbaticals, or times of personal challenge and loss. That was a choice I made as I quickly discovered that the process of writing my Shabbat Messages has, itself, become deeply meaningful to me.
What began as a way to stay in touch with the congregation gradually became something more for me: an important part of my own preparation for Shabbat. Ahad Ha’am famously observed that, “More than People of Israel has kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the People of Israel.” While my weekly message is hardly a sacred obligation, the discipline of pausing each week to prepare for Shabbat became one of the ways Shabbat helped shape and sustain me.
Judaism understands the power of ritual. Rituals help us sanctify time, mark transitions, and live with greater intention. We often think of rituals as prayers, blessings, or holiday observances. But there are personal rituals as well—practices that help us pause, reflect, and orient ourselves toward what matters most.
Each week, sitting down to write these messages became one of those rituals for me. It was a reminder that Shabbat was approaching. The discipline of asking myself, “What is worth sharing this week?” helped me prepare mentally, emotionally, and spiritually for the day of rest. In a small way, the writing itself became part of my Shabbat observance.
I am deeply grateful that so many of you have read these messages over the years. I am equally grateful to those who responded—with comments, questions, insights, and, on occasion, thoughtful disagreement. Your responses transformed these messages from a monologue into a conversation, and from a conversation into a community.
Our tradition teaches that Torah comes alive through dialogue. The give-and-take of ideas, perspectives, and respectful debate is how we learn and grow. In that spirit, these weekly reflections became not simply something I sent out, but something we shared together.
And because this practice has become such a meaningful and important part of my own weekly rhythm, I have no intention of stopping. Whether through Facebook, my own website, or some other platform, I expect I will continue sharing weekly reflections on Torah, current events, Jewish life, and whatever else happens to be on my mind. Some habits are simply too meaningful to give up.
As I prepare to write my final message for TSTI next week, I find myself feeling grateful—not only for the opportunity to write, but for the privilege of knowing that so many of you were on the other end reading, reflecting, and responding.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Daniel M. Cohen