Twelve years ago on a sunny summer afternoon in Florida, someone said something to me in a perfectly innocent and offhanded way, which nevertheless had a powerful impact on me. In order of importance if not of chronology, I had just been married, I had just been ordained, I had just moved and taken up my first full-time position, as Assistant Rabbi of Temple Beth El of Boca Raton. In the middle of a staff meeting the Senior Rabbi's secretary poked her head into the room. "Rabbi Feshbach," she said to me, "your wife is on line three in your office. Your secretary is taking a message."

For a moment I was simply at a loss for words. Who is Rabbi Feshbach? Where is my office? And: I have a wife?

My whole world had changed in a few short weeks. Nothing brought the reality of that change more sharply into focus than the casual assumption of it all, in the midst of a busy day.

Change comes upon us suddenly. Or it creeps up on us without our taking note of it. But it is a constant companion however it arrives.

Buddhists note that change is one of the great causes of suffering in human existence: we get used to things the way they are, we grow attached, we make assumptions, and then yearn for yesterday when today dawns differently then we wanted it to be.

But change is also a challenge. An opportunity, to preserve what we value of the past, to maintain a sense of comfort and familiarity, yet opening ourselves up to uncertainty, the possibility and new potential of the future.

To find the right balance, to weave the thread of continuity while welcoming new faces and new ideas is one of the greatest tasks in congregational life. Even in Washington, a community used to periodic shifts in style and substance alike, there cannot but be a sense of dizziness in the midst of transition. There are changes in my life, as we move to a fresh and yet familiar place, and as we will. God willing, by the time you read these words although not at the time I write them, we will have a new and needy member of our family (Ed. note: Talia Ann, born July 1.) And there are changes in the communal life of Temple Shalom, as you celebrate the contributions and vision and towering integrity of Rabbi Bruce Kahn and his tenure, and as we begin to look ahead.

All I ask, in the midst of so many changes, and at the outset of our time together is an opportunity for all of us to take a cleansing breath, to acknowledge the breadth of the change in our lives. I am excited about coming to Washington, about coming home...but I leave behind a wonderful community and congregation in Buffalo, and there are moments when I will miss them very much. So many of you have shared your enthusiasm about my arrival, but I know there will be many times when you will miss Rabbi Kahn, and his presence in your lives, very much as well.

This is natural. It is healthy. It is merely a reflection of the good relationships we have had in the past. These feeling can even be–if we are aware of our yearning for what was, and open about it–a good sign about the potential we have to build a new relationship for the future.

The High Holy Days are upon us shortly after my arrival in the Washington area. In a whirlwind of change, and in the midst of the new, how can I, and how can we, find that calm place to focus on the deepest meaning of this season of the soul? There is a prayer sung by the cantor at the very beginning of services on Erev Rosh Hashanah that enables me, as a rabbi, to concentrate, to pray myself, and, especially, to have the strength to lead so important a service. The prayer is called "Hin'ni. (Here I am.)." Loosely translated, the prayer begins as follows:

Behold, here I am, trembling as I stand before You to plead for your people O gracious God...accept my petition and that of my people. Let them not be put to shame because of me, nor I because of them.

These are words of humility...and awe. They are not common words. They are not even, for many of us, common feelings. But I have those feelings at the start of the High Holy Days. There were moments that I had those feelings during the search process. And I have those feelings now. It is with awe that I begin my responsibilities as your rabbi. I am honored to serve as the rabbi of this congregation, and grateful for the opportunity to lead and to teach and to learn with you in the years to come. I look forward to working and being with all of you.

Many months ago, Rabbi Kahn first spoke with me about this congregation, its leaders and its members, with warmth, with pride–indeed, with great love. In beginning to get to know you, these are feelings that are well placed. They are feelings that I am beginning to share. May we go from strength to strength...together.

Michael L. Feshbach
Senior Rabbi

From the Summer 5761 issue of the Temple Shalom Shofar.

Rabbi Feshbach assumes the duties of the Senior Rabbi at Temple Shalom on August 15, 2001.