I attended a new synagogue for the High Holidays this year. I decided to try it out because I’ve come to know a rabbi here in Pittsburgh who I like. Until this fall, however, I had not made the drive to attend his services. See, the synagogue is located about 35 minutes from my house. It may not seem like a big deal for most people, but there’s a joke in Pittsburgh that people don’t like to cross bridges or tunnels. The fact that I did both displays serious interest.
In between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I visited my daughter at college for parents weekend. I couldn’t help but think of Uncle Everett and the passage of time as I watched a sunrise with her from a mountaintop in New Hampshire. She is starting a new chapter in her life, taking what we have taught her at home and is now figuring out what path she will take in life. Similar to her, I have been trying out something different this year as well.
As what often happens to me, I found myself thinking about Uncle Everett a lot throughout the High Holidays. When a congregant got up to read from the torah donning a tallit with multi-colored stripes across the bottom, I thought of Everett and his rainbow tallit. When the rabbi proudly talked about the fact the synagogue is going to be installing solar panels this year on their roof, I thought of Everett and how he invented the solar ner tamid. Listening to the unique harmonies between the cantor and guest singers, I closed my eyes and thought about Everett sitting in a real synagogue for the first time in Des Moines, listening to the majestic voices of the choir reverberate throughout the sanctuary. I found both services I attended to be warm and the sermons were appropriately deep and reflective. As I watched the rabbi choke up as a he spoke his truth about hard topics, I thought about all the times that Uncle Everett talked from his heart about issues for which he cared deeply.
I hope that you too have little moments that remind you of him.
Shana Tova u’metuka
