On a typical Friday morning, Rabbi Groh would have a few appointments and make sure that everything was prepared for Shabbat. He liked to go home around 2 p.m. and watch some television and take a short nap before returning to Temple around 5:30 p.m. This morning, however, was a bit different. Rosh Hashanah was only three days away, and the only item on his calendar was “Work on RH sermon.” Usually his High Holy Day sermons were eight pages, which translated to approximately twenty minutes of presentation. That was his sweet spot for the major holidays. Any longer he would lose his audience’s attention. Any less and he felt like they weren’t getting their money’s worth. He was satisfied with the first six pages, but from the time he sat down at his desk at nine until just before noon, Rabbi Groh wrote, and rewrote, the last two pages of his sermon over and over.
The formula was always the same. Six pages to make his argument. Then, two pages to pull at the heartstrings and deliver the inspiration. The congregation never knew what he was going to talk about until he started. He liked the mystery. But each year they hoped his message would help make sense of their world’s most pressing issues. The congregation was weary from the pandemic, political upheaval and divisiveness, and most of all, besieged by the latest wave of antisemitism. Rabbi Groh knew his sermon had the power to set the tone for the year, and so he agonized over each and every word of his last two pages.
When his phone rang a minute before noon, he had just hit Save and Print on what would be the final version of his sermon. It was ready, and he was proud of it.
Moments after the final page emerged from the small printer next to his desk, Rabbi Groh noticed his iPhone buzzing. Looking at his phone, he realized he had missed several texts from Yehoshua over the last couple of hours. His attention was so focused on his thoughts, he’d paid no attention to anything else. This time he answered the call immediately.
“Yehoshua, shalom. So sorry, I am just seeing your texts now.”
“What is more important than my calls, Eitan?”
“Not much. Just carrying the weight of the American Jewish community on my shoulders. No big deal.”
“Impressive, Eitan. That is quite a lift. Listen, I am on my way to Miami right now.”
“Really? Is something happening?”
“Nothing concrete. But we are looking as closely as we can. And the threat level for Rosh Hashanah is still very high. I want to be with you the whole time and make sure you are safe.”
“Do you think it is safe to have services as planned?” Eitan asked.
“Yes, as of now. But we are coordinating with Miami Beach PD. There will be a lot of extra security, and we will scrutinize everyone who enters. Remember, no can enter even the outer courtyard of the synagogue without a valid ticket. I spoke with Avishai about it this morning, and his team is on top of it.”
“Good. I am looking forward to seeing you here.”
“One more thing, Eitan.”
“What’s that?”
“Shanah tovah!”
“I sure hope it will be, Yehoshua. I sure hope it will be.”