Rabbi Arthur Weiner

We are living through a moment that feels unusually heavy. There is deep division here in America. There is war. And there is often painful tension within our own Jewish communities. Conversations that used to feel simple now feel charged. Relationships are strained. People are worried. And it’s not just a feeling. Recent surveys reflect this unease. Studies from the Pew Research Center show that a strong majority of Americans believe the country is more divided today than in the past. Polling from Gallup shows declining optimism about the future and historically low trust in institutions. People are not only concerned about what’s happening. They are unsure where it’s all heading. It is, in many ways, a difficult time to feel hopeful. And then, I came across something completely different. A humorous collection of church signs popped up in my news feed. And I have been laughing, and thinking about them for a few days. You have seen those marquee and billboard signs outside chu...

Several years ago, I spoke to the congregation about the United Nations’ World Happiness Report . At the time, many of us found the results surprising. Israel ranked near the very top of the list, despite years of war, political turmoil, and deep internal divisions.   I remember asking then: how could this be? The answer, as Israeli researchers at the time explained, is that the report did not really measure “happiness” in the way we usually think of it. It measured something deeper — what they called “life satisfaction.” We can define this as a sense that one’s life has meaning, purpose, and connection. That insight stayed with me. This Shabbat, I want to revisit this idea under very different circumstances. Since that original sermon, Israel has endured several more years of war, national trauma, and upheaval. October 7th and everything that followed changed Israel in profound and painful ways. If there were ever a moment when we might expect Israel to fall in such a rankin...

There is a simple but striking idea at the heart of the Seder.   Our Haggadot , following the rulings of the Mishnah and other great Rabbis, teach us that if a person does not mention Pesach , Matzah , and Maror during the Seder, they have not fulfilled their obligation. Think about that for a moment. You could sit at the table, recite the four questions, read most of the Haggadah , discuss Yitzi’at Mitzrayim , the coming out of the land of Egypt, sing the songs, and yet, if you failed to articulate those core elements, Jewish law and tradition says you did not tell the story. Which forces us to ask a fundamental question: What kind of “story” is this, that if you leave out key elements, it’s not just incomplete, but   invalid as well? The answer is: the Seder is not about telling a story. It is about telling the story. A story that is structured, intentional, and disciplined.   A story that insists you address core ideas: you must name the suffering you must d...

Sometimes, the most ordinary messages carry an unexpected lesson. Like the one I received this week: “ Your inbox is almost full .” At first, I did what we often do. I ignored it. But the warnings kept coming, a little more urgent each time, until I realized I had no choice. If I didn’t deal with it, I wouldn’t be able to receive anything new. So I set aside time to clean it up. At first, I thought it would be simple—just delete a few things and move on. But it quickly became clear that this was going to take more time and more thought than I expected. I found myself scrolling through years of emails, old conversations, reminders, and (some really large) attachments I had saved “just in case.” And with each one, I had to make a decision: Do I keep this, or do I let it go? Some choices were easy. Promotions, mass emails, and advertisements--gone in a second. But others were harder. There were emails I hadn’t looked at in years, yet something about them made me hesitate. Maybe...

For the past two weeks, our attention has been drawn to the conflict involving Israel, Iran, and the United States. Wars always produce headlines, statements, and competing narratives. Yet as we pause for Shabbat, I want to step back from the noise of the moment and reflect with clarity, humility, and moral seriousness. There is no question that real achievements have been realized so far. For decades, Iran’s leadership has pursued policies that threaten Israel, jeopardize American interests,   and destabilize the broader Middle East through its nuclear ambitions and through the network of armed proxies it supports across the region, including, (but certainly not limited to) Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis. They are responsible for the murder of thousands throughout the region.   Efforts to weaken those capabilities are not insignificant. The degradation of military infrastructure, the disruption of networks that enable violence against civilians, the removal of leaders re...

Each year before Passover, the synagogue sends out a form asking you to sell your chametz . And each year, a predictable pattern emerges. Some people return the form immediately. Some people return it the night before Passover. Some people ignore it.  And some people discover the form three weeks after Passover and say, “Oh… was I supposed to send that in?” Let me reassure you: selling your chametz may be the easiest mitzvah you will perform all year. You don’t need special equipment. You don’t need to study a tractate of Talmud. You don’t even need to leave your house. All you need to do is sign the form. But behind this very simple step lies one of the most important obligations of Passover. What Is Chametz ? The Torah prohibits the eating of leaven during Passover (Exodus 12:15-20). Chametz refers to any food made from five grains—wheat, barley, oats, spelt, and rye—that has been allowed to rise. Matzah , of course, is made from those same grains—but without...