Rabbi’s Message: October 25, 2025
This week, I am excited to announce that I will be traveling to Israel for a quick solo visit during our traditional Rabbis’ Post-High Holy Days “Dark Week” (as an honor to the quiet month of Cheshvan and the recovery that is necessary for all Jewish clergy post-High Holy Days).
As a part of my travels in Israel, I am grateful to head to the Arava Desert for an Iyengar Yoga Retreat, led by my long-time, much beloved teacher Nancy Gardosh. While mentioned throughout the Tanakh, the Arava Desert is the setting for Deuteronomy and much of Moses’ wise advice to the people of Israel. In Isaiah 35, the Arava transforms into a symbol of spiritual renewal and blossoming. While I do not anticipate witnessing pillars of fire and darkness (Exodus 13:21–22; Numbers 9:15–23), nor finding a divine voice in a burning bush (Exodus 3:1-6), much like Hosea (Hosea 2:16–22), I am excited to open myself to opportunity of reconnection and renewal in one of Israel’s wild spaces. It is a blessing to be able to spend a Shabbat in spiritual reflection and intentional physical movement in a wilderness that is so rich with our people’s history and narratives.
During my four remaining days, I am looking forward to holding friends whose experiences have been weighing heavily upon my heart, hugging their children – including our “granddaughter” (who just turned one!) from our beloved adopted lone soldier Kayla and her husband – and, after I return from the desert, burying my feet in the Mediterranean’s sands with a cappuccino in hand. I cannot wait to be able to show you pictures.
Wishing you a week of rest and renewal in this quiet month of Cheshvan,
Rabbi Lauren
Rabbi’s Message: October 21, 2025
What do we do after the trauma?
This is the question that I always have when I read this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Noah.
Yes, in this Torah portion, I love thinking about the woodworking fun that must have been learning how to build a large boat.
Yes, in this Torah portion, I love imagining all of the animals marching two by two (or seven by seven, depending on which verse you are reading).
Yes, in this Torah portion, I love picturing what it means to keep watch for first the raven and then the dove, in the hopes that indeed the flood waters themselves will eventually recede.
And, if you know me, you know that I am practically vibrating with excitement over the crafting opportunities for teaching this Torah portion to children.
But really, every single time I read this Torah portion, the part that trips up my heart is how Noah fails to deal with the trauma of watching the death of people within his extended community. Did he know them? Maybe. But did their drowning in the overwhelming flood clearly wound his heart? Most certainly. The problem is that, in response, Noah could not “unclench” from his experience. He could not let go of the trauma, allowing it to flow through and past him; instead, he dammed it up by trying to dull his senses as soon as possible after the event. While it is beautiful that he planted a vineyard as soon as he disembarked, his intention was not to reaffirm the bounty that the earth had to offer; the rabbis say that his intention was to be able to get drunk as soon as possible.
Feelings are funny in this kind of way. It can be so deeply painful to craft healthier adaptations to difficult emotions or trauma. It is hard work to be aware of what might send you spiritually and emotionally reeling and then to find paths towards effective healing afterwards. And yet, avoiding processing the grief, the trauma, the pain that life sometimes brings us simply does not work either.
This is the challenge of the moment for Noah and for us: what healthy choices are we able to choose in the face of recovery from difficulty? Instead of planting ourselves in the first spot we see, are we able to see that a variety of options might lay before us? Instead of hiding away, are we able to ask for support from our loved ones and reach out to others in our community for a helping hand?
Rabbi’s Message: Oct 14, 2025
Yesterday, as we watched the return of the 20 living hostages, many of us felt the swirl of conflicting emotions rise and crash within us.
This is a season of unbridled joy – there is dancing in the streets and in our hearts that the ceasefire begins with stability and most especially, the return of our beloveds.
This is a season of heartbreaking grief – grief that this happened in the first place, grief that there are only 20 returning alive in this moment, grief over the destruction that war of any kind reaps, grief over the trauma of the past two years.
This is a season of palpable relief – relief that Israelis will no longer need to regularly run to their bomb shelters and question the structure of their saferooms. Relief that it will be possible to travel from place to place within the country without consideration for where the gas-station’s or bus stop’s re-enforced spaces might be.
This is a season of anxious worry – fear for what will happen to those Palestinians who Hamas now has the greater opportunity to terrorize, deep-felt worry for what this means for long-term peace and meaningful, much-wanted partnership in the entire region. Worry for our own people and the likelihood of the recurrence of such terror and security failures.
This is a season of courageous hope – hope that the ceasefire is long lasting and leads to significant peace talks. Hope that recovery from this level of trauma is possible. Hope that healing is within our grasp.
During Sukkot, we traditionally read Ecclesiastes, a book of our Tanakh that emphasizes the fragility of every moment in this world. As Kohelet writes:
There is a season is set for everything, a time for every experience under heaven:
A time for being born and a time for dying,
A time for planting and a time for uprooting the planted;
A time for slaying and a time for healing
A time for tearing down and a time for building up; (Ecclesiastes 3:1-3)
Ecclesiastes teaches that our lives are big enough to hold each of these things. We are big enough to embrace the difficulty, the complexity, and the beauty of each season.
So, as we feel the ripples of this moment in history, we breathe in the reality that our hearts are big enough. Our hearts are big enough to hold all of these feelings – feelings of hope and despair, feelings of grief and joy. Our hearts are big enough to be able to still dance, still sing, still rejoice while tenderly holding the tragedy and trauma that began two Simchat Torahs ago, and comes to one level of closure as we enter into the Simchat Torah of 5786. Our hearts are big enough for the fragility of this season and all it brings.
May we give one another permission to feel it all — to celebrate, to weep, to breathe, and to begin again – as we roll our Torah to its beginning once more.
Kol Nidre Address 2025/5786
By President Heidi Doyle
Good evening, for those who may not know me, my name is Heidi Doyle, and I have the privilege of serving as the President of the North Tahoe Hebrew Congregation. It is my honor to welcome you tonight, on the most sacred evening of our year.
I would like to take a moment to recognize our board members, who are here tonight. I invite them to please raise their hands so that we can acknowledge their leadership, their service, and their dedication to keeping our community vibrant. Thank you!
As we begin, let us also offer our heartfelt gratitude to Rabbi Evon Yakor, to our Cantorial Soloist Erev Rav Marni Loffman, our inspiring instrumentalists, and to the many volunteers who have worked so hard to create a meaningful and inspiring High Holiday experience for all of us. It takes many hands and many hearts to bring this service to life.
Tonight, as the familiar words of Kol Nidre echo through this sanctuary, we are reminded that this moment is about more than prayers spoken—it is about lives renewed. We face ourselves honestly, we consider the vows we did not keep, and we open the door to forgiveness, healing, and hope.
We are a medley of beliefs, and that is our strength. What unites us are the Jewish values that guides our lives: equity, inclusion, environmental justice, caring for the underserved, and sincere empathy for all who suffer. These values call us to be present for one another, and they invite all who identify with this vision to join us.
Our tradition calls us to this sacred work through teshuvah, tefillah, tzedakah—returning, prayer, and acts of giving. Teshuvah turns us back toward our best selves and toward each other. Tefillah gives us words for gratitude, sorrow, and hope. Tzedakah moves us from reflection to action—lifting up the vulnerable, supporting our community and repairing the world.
One of my favorite authors, Henry David Thoreau, wrote:
In wildness is the preservation of the world.
Here in the beauty of Lake Tahoe, we know this truth in our bones. The preservation of the world—of its forests, its waters, its wild places—depends on our care. And so too, the preservation of our Jewish life here depends on our willingness to care for one another, to strengthen this congregation, and to sustain it for the next generation. I believe his words remind us of our responsibility to preserve and care not only for the natural environment, but for one another. In caring for the earth and for humanity, we discover the true meaning of holiness. We cannot ignore the suffering of our time. We hold close in our prayers the war in Israel and the heartbreak of hostages still waiting to come home. And we extend our compassion to all who face the terrors of war, famine, injustice, and work instability. To be Jewish is to carry a deep empathy, and to let that empathy move us to action.
That is what we are building here together- a congregation rooted in Jewish tradition, wide enough to embrace everyone who seeks justice, peace, and belonging. This is the heart of our temple family.
But this is not something we can do alone or by a select few. Tonight, I ask you to join me- through financial contributions, your volunteer spirit and your welcoming nature -to sustain this sacred place.
I need you to invite others who identify with our community to join us. By opening our arms to others, by inviting like-minded friends and neighbors to join us, we enlarge the Jewish community our founders envisioned and strengthen our chosen Jewish family here on the shores of Lake Tahoe and Truckee.
We need your volunteer spirit—to help guide our children in learning, to nourish adult education, to plan activities that bring us together, and to share your talents in service. We need your financial support—to keep our doors open and ensure that every person can join in Jewish life regardless of circumstance. May this sanctuary always be a beacon of Jewish presence in the Sierra. Your gifts of time, your gifts of energy, your gifts of treasure—these are what transform this congregation from a building into a vibrant, living community.
On behalf of our board, our Rabbis, and all who serve this congregation, I thank you for your presence, your commitment, and your love. Together, we strengthen Jewish life here and beyond.
May we all be inscribed and sealed for a year of blessing, renewal, and peace.
G’mar Chatimah Tovah.
Change is possible, thanks to Chazak V’Ematz
Rabbi’s Message: September 30, 2025
This week, we stand in that liminal space between the awe of Rosh HaShanah and the intensity of Yom Kippur. These ten days are the hinge of the High Holy Days, the moment where we are invited to turn more fully toward the teshuvah we seek, and to summon the strength to follow through.
This week, we read Parashat Vayilech, at the very end of the Torah. As Moses prepares to take leave of the people, he turns again and again to three simple but powerful words: “Chazak v’ematz” — “Be strong and courageous” (Deut. 31:6–7). These are not just words for Joshua, his successor. They are words for every Israelite trembling at the edge of change, standing on the threshold of the unknown.
Moses knew that change is not easy. He spent his whole adult life trying to help the Israelites navigate the transformation from the constriction of slavery to the openness of freedom. Moses knew that to leave behind habits that no longer serve us requires strength. To open ourselves to the possibility of reconciliation and forgiveness requires courage. To admit where we have fallen short, and then to step toward a different future, takes a resilience of spirit that does not come naturally — it must be cultivated.
This season calls us not only to reflection but to transformation. The prayers we recite, the confessions we speak, the silences we endure are not meant to shame us — they are meant to strengthen us. Each “Ashamnu” whispered, each “Al Chet” recited, is like lifting a small weight. The more we practice, the stronger our spiritual muscles become. And with that strength, courage rises within us to act differently in the year ahead.
This week invites us to ask: What is the act of courage I am being called to this year? What strength must I muster to step into the life I long to live? And how can this community help each of us hold that courage when it feels fleeting?
So as we journey toward Yom Kippur, may we take Moses’ words to heart. Chazak v’ematz. Be strong in your commitments. Be courageous in your change. And may this season give us the “Chazak v’ematz” not only to dream of return, but to live it.
(This is a version of the iyyun (or “sermonette”) from this Shabbat Shuva – the Shabbat of Return.)
5786 New Year Message from the President
by Heidi Doyle
Rosh Hashanah is a moment to stop, reflect, and breathe in the possibility of a new year. And here, in Tahoe, surrounded by our mountains, the lake, and the clear skies, it feels even more powerful. The natural beauty reminds us of creation itself—and of how small we are, and yet how deeply connected we are to one another.
But as we gather here in peace, our hearts are also with those who cannot. The war in Gaza weighs heavily on us — not only the ongoing violence and the pain it brings to so many, but also the hostages still being held there. We carry them in our prayers. We dream and we hope for their release, for comfort to their families, and for an end to the suffering that war has brought to so many. We also carry with us injustices to segments of our society because of skin color or sexual orientation. As immigrants ourselves, and only three generations from the Holocaust, we worry. And standing here, safe in Tahoe, we feel both gratitude and responsibility. Gratitude that we can gather freely, without fear. Responsibility to live our Jewish values—to build community, to care for one another, and to ensure Jewish life thrives wherever we call home.
Jewish tradition teaches us that even in moments of uncertainty and pain, we do not lose our humanity, our hope — or even our humor. A rabbi once asked his student: “Why is it that Jews always answer a question with another question?” The student replied: “Why not?” That’s the Jewish way—we don’t have to solve everything today. We live with the questions. We hold the contradictions. And most importantly, we hold one another.
At North Tahoe Hebrew Congregation, that’s what we do. Whether you live here year-round, you’ve come up from the Bay Area, or you’re joining us just for the holidays, this place is your Jewish home in the mountains. It’s where we celebrate, where we learn, where we teach our children, and where we lean on each other in times of both joy and sorrow.
But this sacred gathering doesn’t sustain itself on spirit alone. It takes commitment. It takes resources. It takes your support. So, as we welcome this New Year, I ask you directly: please make a meaningful financial contribution to sustain our community here in the Tahoe–Truckee region. Every gift, no matter the size, keeps our doors open, our children learning, and our voices raised in prayer.
On Rosh Hashanah we say, Hayom harat olam — “today the world is born.” Here, in this breathtaking place, we have the chance to give birth not just to another year, but to another year of Jewish life — alive and thriving in Tahoe.
May this year bring peace. May it bring healing from the pain of war. May it bring kindness and understanding among us. And may it bring us closer together, in unity, in generosity, and in gratitude.
Shanah Tovah u’Mehukah—Wishing you a sweet and good New Year!
Heidi
Video message from NTHC Board President Heidi
A message from Heidi Doyle, NTHC Board President, to join us for Rosh Hashanah services on Tuesday, September 23!
Rabbis’ Message: September 16, 2025
As we shift closer and closer to our High Holy Day celebrations and commemorations, as we move through Selichot - a ritual that literally translates to “pardon” - I wanted to share this poem by Rabbi Evan Schultz with you:
A letter to 5786.
I just wanted to say I’m sorry.
There’s a lot of pressure on you.
5785 was a hard year.
War. Suffering. Violence.
Hostages. Pain. Hunger.
A lot of folks lost hope.
In each other. In humanity.
We’re coming to you tired.
Weary. Heartbroken. Confused.
Like I said, a lot of pressure.
Can you do anything for us?
We need more than sweetness.
More than apples and honey.
Or tkiyahs and truahs.
We need healing. Pause. Love.
Please help to awaken us.
To find water in the wilderness.
Hope in the human heart.
I know it’s a lot to ask.
But such is my fragile prayer.
Usher us in, to begin anew.
May the coming new year be a good year for us and for all peoples of the Earth. May it be a year of healing and awakening; may it be a year where we find water in the wilderness of this emerging era.
With love and hope,
Rabbi Lauren
Member highlight: Hattie Kaplan
Our congregation is proud to shine a spotlight on Hattie Kaplan, a senior at Truckee High School, who is turning her passion for service into action. Hattie is organizing Miles That Matter, a student-led 5K walk/run and community festival designed to support girls in Moshi, Tanzania (sign up at this link)
The funds raised will provide reusable menstrual cups through CouldYou? Cup, with a bold mission to end period poverty by 2040. In addition, proceeds will support the Empower HER workbook, which helps girls build confidence and resilience through lessons in health, financial literacy, leadership, and more.
The festival is free to attend, with donations encouraged. Registration for the 5K is $40 for adults and $20 for youth and students. Attendees can enjoy local vendors, live music, food, raffles, and family fun. Every participant and donor will receive a handmade bracelet symbolizing global sisterhood, plus raffle tickets for every $10 donated. In her own words, Hattie shares:
"My Jewish values have always taught me the importance of tikkun olam-repairing the world-and lifting up others in need. Leading Miles that Matter is my way of living out those values, creating a community event that brings people together while making a tangible difference in the lives of girls across the globe."
We are proud of Hattie and the example she sets as a leader, role model, and changemaker. Join her in building confidence, health and global employment-one mile at a time!
Rabbi’s Message for Sept. 9, 2025
Shalom,
The order of things matters. We may not always notice, yet things happen in a certain order to help us make sense, to learn, and to understand. We celebrate the transition to a New Year, Rosh Hashanah, and then dive into the work of the Yamim Noraim - Days of Awe. After ten days, we arrive at Yom Kippur, the day that helps us hold on to and reflect on the past year, while uttering words that urge us to look ahead - we stand between the past and the future, it is in a particular order.
This week, as we enter the final two weeks of the year, and the Hebrew month of Elul, we find in parashat Ki Tavo an important instruction manual, and order of things to do upon crossing into the land. In Deuteronomy 26:1, we read: When you enter into the land that Adonai, your God, is giving you as a heritage, and you possess it and settle in it, you shall take some of every first fruit of the soil which you harvest from the land that Adonai your God is giving you, put it in a basket and go to the place where Adonai your God will choose to establish God’s name. And a chapter later in the same portion, 27:2, we read: As soon as you have crossed the Jordan into the land that Adonai your God is giving you, you shall set up large stones. Coat them with plaster and inscribe upon them all the words of this Teaching.
We express gratitude, and we ensure we are holding onto the ‘Teaching’, the Torah. We have to first cross into the land, then we take time to express gratitude for all we receive. Yet, which comes first? While the order of the verses is to express gratitude first, the language of the second passage seems to indicate otherwise. In a fabulous volume, It Takes Two to Torah, Rabbi Dov Linzer and journalist Abigail Pogrebin discuss this very curiosity. One conclusion Pogrebin presents is the following:
AP: If we bring it back to the “first fruits” of tihs parsha, here’s how I’d connect them: Moses is telling his people, “These are your instructions when you get there. Yes, you must give a piece of your harvest to God; but the stones you’re supposed to do right away. You’re going to inscribe these stones before you bring in the first fruits.” Again, the Torah comes first, but emboldening this population to do it themselves is a way to have them be Godlike and inscribe the law with their own hands.
DL: I really like that. God comes first when you enter the Land. The Torah is saying, “Take responsibility. Show gratitude.” But showing gratitude doesn’t mean submission or dependence. It’s really, "Own the responsibility - follow the law - but also make it yours.” (Page 288)
Mrs. Pogrebin and Rabbi Linzer discuss the balance between recognizing God and all the gifts we receive with our gratitude and knowing that Torah is something we continue to author, together with the divine spark within each of us. In this season of Elul, the twilight of the year, we are searching our past year for how we can grow, for that we are grateful as we cross, not the Jordan, but into a new year. And, we are re-committing ourselves to our role as authors of our Jewish story. May we discover again our commitment to both as we prepare to cross into this New Year.
Shavua Tov & Shanah Tovah,
Rabbi Evon
Rabbi’s Message: September 1, 2025
Years ago, when we were living in Israel and our Bigs and the Littles were no more than a dream, there were a series of rockets from Gaza. Every day, at some point between breakfast and naps, a siren would wind up its chilling call and I would snatch my children from their play and sprint to our re-enforced saferoom or, if we were out at the park or the grocery store or buying a pizza for dinner, then the closest bomb shelter. We would tuck ourselves in, my arms wrapped around my squirming two (and, years later, four), singing songs or telling stories or getting to know the neighbors as we waited for the “booms” to subside.
At the time, I was asked why we weren’t planning on moving back to the States.
It was the same year as Sandy Hook. And I thought a terrible thing to myself: well, at least when we are attacked here, there is a saferoom where we can go.
This year, after dropping my children off for their first day of school, I opened up the news to read about the tragedy in Minnesota on August 27th. To see the picture of a mom, holding a shoe in each hand - shoes that I recognize from my own closet - as she sprinted into danger, on the chance that she would be able to wrap her arms around her babies and sing comforting songs to them, too… it reminded me of how painful the reality of this world can be.
It is approaching 13 years since Sandy Hook and the war I first experienced with Hamas. There is still no peace in Israel. There are still shootings in our schools here in the United States. In the context of these tragedies, I am devastated to realize: we are still here. In the tender reaching for hope, I can summon the courage to say: we are still here.
Everyone - every human being - should have the privilege of physical safety. No one should need to be this brave. But we are here, nonetheless. We are here to hold the tender hope that peace is possible, that safety is possible, in every corner of this world.
If you are interested in donating to our security fund - particularly in advance of these High Holy Days - please contact Holly at holly@tbytahoe.org. If you would like to get involved with our security committees, please contact Heidi at hdoyle55@gmail.com.
Rabbi’s message for 8/26/25 - Elul camping trip
This past weekend, many of us had the joy of gathering for our intergenerational Elul camping trip. Beneath the pines, with the lake shimmering nearby and the crackle of the campfire in our ears, we stepped into the spirit of Elul — the month of preparation, reflection, and return. What struck me most was how the weekend invited each of us to bring our whole selves into this sacred season, just as the characters of the “Hundred Acre Woods” remind us that there are many ways to approach the journey of a new year.
Eeyore shows us that sadness and stillness are not failures but gateways—moments when quiet honesty grounds us in truth. Piglet, with his anxieties, reminds us that it’s natural to feel uncertainty as we approach a season of change; his smallness gives us courage to be vulnerable and ask for help. Tigger, bouncing with enthusiasm, embodies the energy and excitement that renewal can bring—sometimes we need a little leap to propel us forward. And Pooh, with his gentle equanimity and love of simple joys, teaches us that a steady, content heart is a precious gift in turbulent times. (And if you are feeling like you missed out on the rabbis’ re-enactment of each of these, make space on your calendar next year for this meaningful and joy-filled Shabbat!)
Together, these beloved companions offer us a map for navigating the “Hundred Acre Woods” of our own lives as we step into 5786. Each emotion, whether heavy, anxious, exuberant, or calm, can be a pathway toward teshuvah – turning to our true selves – reflection, and deeper connection with ourselves, each other, and the Divine.
As we turn toward the gates of the New Year, I invite you to bring all of yourself into this season. Mark your calendars and plan to join us for the High Holy Day celebrations both at our synagogue and all around our beloved gem of Creation, Lake Tahoe. Together, we will walk into this new chapter, carrying our sadness, our fears, our joys, and our peace — knowing that, like our friends in the woods, we are never truly alone on the journey.
With blessings of courage, joy, and gentle beginnings,
Rabbi Lauren
Rabbi’s message - Aug 19, 2025
This Shabbat, my socials were covered in yellow.
Not because of a love of bees or sunshine. But thanks to the national protests throughout Israel. An estimated 500,000 people in just the single city of Tel Aviv alone emerged to protest against the current government and almost every aspect of their decisions, from their attempts at “re-balancing” power with the judiciary to their failure to bring home the hostages and foster peace. Outside of my favorite Israeli city, protests, strikes and transportation stoppages occurred throughout the country, from Eilat to Acco and beyond. Over 1 in 10 Israelis found themselves in the streets this Shabbat.
Now, I am, generally, not what I sometimes call a “David Brooks” rabbi. Not that there is anything wrong with that. There are just so, so many Jewish voices in this arena, from the excellent podcast Call Me Back to my personal love-hate relationship with the popular Ezra Klein. But this moment feels different. This feels different because the overwhelming Israeli protests this weekend speaks to the interior, spiritual work that continues to draw me to the rabbiniate. To witness so many friends from every walk of life in Israel - teachers and civil engineers, office workers and archeologists, artists and high-tech executives - express their voice and their dream for change was deeply moving.
And yes, protests are loud. They’re full of drumlines and chants and frustration and passion. But at their core, they are really quiet things. They start in the hush of the heart, in the stillness of a sleepless night, in the whisper (or knowing Israelis, the volley) of conversation around a Shabbat table: This is not the world I want. Or even more bravely: This is the world I still believe we can build.
That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about — that beneath all the signs and songs and sirens is a remarkably Jewish act: a confrontation with hope. Not cheap hope, not naïve optimism, but the gritty, grown-up kind that stares reality in the face and still chooses to dream. It is the hope we sing of during Hatikvah; it is the hope of Theodore Hertzl’s “If you will it, it is no dream”. That’s the hope I saw waving as a yellow flag across my feed last Shabbat.
And that brings us to our spiritual work. In just a few weeks, the shofar will sound, and with it, the ancient call to look inward and forward. So, let's begin where all meaningful change begins — with a question: What are our hopes for the coming year? Not just for the headlines, but for our homes. Not just for the protests, but for our prayers. Over the coming days, may we find the strength to ask this question honestly, and the courage to listen closely for the answer.
Shavua Tov, Rabbi Lauren
Eikev - Next Generation Aug 12 2025 (Rabbi’s message)
Shalom,
As we continue to stand on the bank of the Jordan River listening to Moses’ farewell speech (which is almost the entirety of the Book of Deuteronomy) we come to our parasha for this week: Eikev. We continue to learn about the blessings and curses resulting from our response to the Mitzvoth - the Commandments. Yet, there is a verse in this week’s portion that helps us see deeper into the mitzvoth as educational tools. It is about building our future!
We are familiar with the charge that we recite in the V’ahavta prayer - V’Shinantam L’Vanecha - and you (singular) shall teach your children (Deut. 6:7) which appeared in last week’s portion; this week we learn - V’limadetem Otam - and you (plural) shall teach them (Deut. 11:19). While these phrases ring in similar ways, our tradition teaches us that there is more to this pair of verses.
In the Babylonian Talmud, this second verse is discussed and juxtaposed to the first on numerous occasions. We learn that we are to understand them in similar ways, but the second is broader in its command. This second verse expands the responsibility to not only one’s biological children, but also to the children in the community.
From this we recognize the responsibility of imparting not only the mitzvoth, but also our tradition at large, rests with all of us.
In a world in which we take in so much information, it is becoming more and more complex to sift the information. How much the more so is this true for the way our young people learn. We are all always modeling for others.
As we engage in parashat Eikev this week, may we all recognize the responsibility we have to teach, whether overtly in the form of lessons or covertly through our modeling, the younger generations in our communities and our world. May we also take to heart the responsibility to help our children, our own and those within our community, sift and discern the lessons that ought to be gleaned from what they experience, see and hear throughout life.
Shavua Tov,
Rabbi Evon
Rabbi’s Message for Aug 5, 2025 - Tu B’Av
As we reach the full moon of Av — Tu B’Av, the fifteenth of the month — we arrive at a holiday that is both deeply ancient and beautifully relevant. Often called the “Festival of Love,” Tu B’Av stands quietly in the Jewish calendar, yet it speaks volumes about the nature of love in its many forms: love between people, love between communities, love of self, and love of the Divine.
At the heart of this day is a powerful teaching from the Mishnah (Ta’anit 4:8):
“There were no days as joyous for Israel as the fifteenth of Av and Yom Kippur. On these days, the daughters of Jerusalem would go out in borrowed white garments… and dance in the vineyards. And what would they say? ‘Young man, lift up your eyes and see what you choose for yourself…’”
While the Mishnah calls Tu B’Av a joyful day, its deeper essence is about encounter, choice, and connection. This is not a tale of romance alone — it is a story of sacred love, rooted in dignity, humility, and shared values.
In Jewish tradition, love (ahavah) is never simplistic. Our sacred texts explore love in layered and nuanced ways:
Ahavat Re’im — the love of friends and companions. As the Talmud teaches, “Either companionship or death” (Ta’anit 23a). Deep friendship is a lifeline, a sacred bond built not only on affection but on loyalty and moral responsibility.
Ahavat Chinam — selfless love, a love that asks for nothing in return. Our sages tell us that the Second Temple was destroyed due to baseless hatred, and that it will be rebuilt through baseless love — a radical, active compassion toward others, even when we don’t agree or understand.
Ahavat HaGer — the love of the stranger. This form of love, commanded over thirty times in the Torah, challenges us to expand our circle of empathy beyond the familiar. It is love as justice.
Ahavah between partners, as celebrated on Tu B’Av, reminds us that romantic love, when rooted in holiness, can be a reflection of divine presence. But even here, our tradition stresses that love is not just a feeling — it is a daily practice, expressed through kindness, respect, listening, and growth.
Ahavat Hashem — love of God. While this theology isn’t a match for everybody, it is an option to explore: Ahavat Hashem is not a distant, theological idea, but a personal, embodied striving. As the Shema commands: “You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.” This love fuels all others — when we love the Source of all being, we learn to see each human being as sacred
In the ancient Jewish world, this moment was celebrated in the vineyards of ancient Jerusalem; the daughters would dance in borrowed garments so that no one would be shamed by status or wealth. Every person was seen for their character, not their clothing. Love was sought not through possession or appearance, but through discernment and dignity.
This public ritual — people meeting one another in openness, joy, and equality — symbolized something bigger: the possibility of a society rooted in love rather than fear, in connection rather than competition.
In our time, Tu B’Av calls us to reclaim that vision.
From the mussar tradition, we know that love is not instinct alone — it is a middah, a soul-trait to be cultivated.
True love requires balance. Unchecked, love can become attachment, control, or even idolization. But refined through self-awareness and discipline, love becomes expansive and sustaining. As mesilat yesharim (The Path of the Just) teaches, a loving person is one whose heart is open to others, whose actions are aligned with compassion, and whose ego does not block relationship.
Tu B’Av, coming just weeks before Elul and Yom Kippur, invites us into this work. Before we return to divine connection, we are asked to return to each other — to repair relationships, to open ourselves to forgiveness, and to choose love again.
May this Tu B’Av be a day of renewal — not only for romantic relationships, but for all the places in our lives where love is needed.
May we love more bravely.
May we be willing to be seen, and to see others fully.
May we choose love — in all its forms — not only when it is easy, but when it is healing, demanding, and holy.
With blessings for love that is rooted, whole, and enduring,
Rabbi Lauren
Rabbi’s Message - July 29, 2025
Part of our deep, underlying purpose as a community is to be a garden of Jewish joy in our glorious gem of Creation. This past Shabbat, we embodied that particular and fantastic joy with our local community’s celebration of Caleb Yakar’s B’Mitzvah. Yet every time I open the national newspaper, I have been feeling apocalyptic. But I suppose, according to the Jewish calendar, ‘‘tis the season.”
This coming week marks the commemoration of Tisha B’Av. Tisha B’Av makes emotional space for disaster and destruction, for mourning our mistakes, for tending to our trauma, and honoring our grief.
This tender day emerges from a real, lived tragedy for our people. Discussed in the book of Jeremiah and emotionally explored in the book of Lamenations, Tisha B’Av marks Nebuchadnezzar II’s military success in 586 BCE.
Our holy books are not the only ruminations we have on this event. Uncovered at Tel Lachish between 1935 and 1938, the Lachish Letters consist of a collection of ostraca (ink on pottery). Dating from the 6th century BCE, this collection gives insight into the thoughts of those alive during the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem, the war that led to the destruction of the First Temple and the fall of the Israelite state and Davidic dynasty. The Lachish Letters offer glimpses of their mood, including an anonymous prophet’s singular cautionary alarm: “Beware!”
While this holy day makes space for grief and fear — which if you know me, you know I think that this is vital for healthy emotional and spiritual growth — it doesn’t offer insight into how we can possibly maintain emotional and spiritual buoyancy during this season.
However, this week’s Torah portion offers us a suggestion.
Parashat Devarim opens the book of Deuteronomy, the final book of Torah. The Greeks renamed the book “Deuteronomy” because it acts as a summary of much of the Israelites’ story. It begins with Moses and the Israelites standing on the banks of the Jordan River. Before the people can enter the Land, Moses invites them into a kind of narrative therapy: a retelling of their collective trauma, growth, and identity. Moses doesn’t simply recount history—he reinterprets it. He transforms wandering into wisdom. What we see in this act is the Torah’s answer to our modern malaise:
Meaning is not given; it is made—through reflection, through relationship, and through remembrance.
Jewish wisdom has long understood this. The Sfat Emet, commenting on Devarim, teaches that Moses was not just giving a historical account, but awakening the inner voice of the people. In other words, he was not just speaking to them—but from within them. This is what true meaning does: it reconnects us to something timeless within ourselves.
Searching for deeper meaning within our lives and within the times in which we live is a fundamental part of the human experience. Particularly in times of difficulty and trauma.
This Shabbat, as we enter Devarim—literally, “words”—I invite you to pause and ask:
What is the story I’m telling about my life?
Where do I find meaning—beyond the accolades of others, beyond the power and noise of technology, beyond the external?
How might I become, like Moses, a narrator of purpose for myself and others?
How can I protect my narrative within my own heart, without hardening my heart to others’ narratives?
We are not meant to sleepwalk into the Promised Land. We are meant to awaken into it—with courage, clarity, and a sense of sacred mission.
May we each find the words we need to speak, the stories we need to reclaim, and the meaning that can anchor us amidst the whirlwind of the world.
Rabbi’s Message July 22, 2025
Shalom,
Summer is often a time for travel, for adventure and journeys. The Great American Summer Road Trip is a regular fixture. Travel brings so many great opportunities and experiences. Some like to jet to far off places for a taste of different cultures, while others like experiences in their backyard. Still others look to guides and travel agents to show them great places and some enjoy the self-guided exploration. In our Torah story, our People’s story, we are often on the move. Whether it is Abraham and Sarah, Joseph followed by his brothers down to Egypt or the epic adventure of our forty year sojourn in the wilderness, our Jewish story is one of travel, of adventure, of suspense and promise. With the reality of our digital world and lifestyle, we often log our travels with pictures stored at our finger tips (or in our pocket) on our smart phones, but some of us go a step further and keep travel logs and journals reflecting on our time on the go.
On this coming Shabbat, we conclude the book of Numbers. We read about the sojourn of our ancestors during their wilderness journey in the double portion of Mattot-Masei - the Tribes and the Stages. While some of the text describes the role the different tribes will play as they settle the land, it still reflects the reality of being on a journey. Other sections of the parasha describe a travel log of sorts. And rather than recounting the experiences along the way, it describes all the places the Israelites camped. There is much to interpret and learn from this narrative. It provides us a way to recall all our time on the go.
This section of Torah helps us remember the milestones, the moments along the way; some of them were triumphant like leaving Ramses, and others less so like Rithmah the place we camped when the spies came back with their negative report. The task of peoplehood charges us to remember, to make memory. We often confuse this with history, yet memory and history are not always equal, rather they echo one another.
In this moment in Torah, even in the life of our Tahoe Jewish Community and our congregations, we are tasked with identifying those milestones and moments. How do we recall our story, crafting and curating it for perpetuity? That is our task as links in the chain of tradition. Mattot-Masei, our portion, reminds us how our ancestors engaged with this, and we must too.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, “Jews have not preserved the ancient monuments, they have retained the ancient moments. The light kindled in their history was never extinguished. With sustaining vitality the past survives in their thoughts, hearts, rituals. Recollection is a holy act: we sanctify the present by remembering the past.” (Man is Not Alone, p. 162)
As we embrace this Shabbat and consider the camp sites of our ancestors and how they tell one story, our Jewish story, let us also consider the choices on the path of building community and our nation. Let us always notice the opportunity to make memories!
Shavua Tov,
Rabbi Evon
July 15, 2025 - Pinchas (Rabbi’s Message)
By Rabbi Evon Yakar
Shalom,
I recently heard someone, someone I trust implicitly, share that I am quite passionate about what matters to me. Then, I was studying this week’s portion, Pinchas, with someone and was reminded of the juxtaposition between passion and zealotry. You see, Pinchas is characterized by our tradition as having passion for God and for being a zealot. So, obviously, I turned to the beautiful and problematic tool of AI to learn more about this juxtaposition. Here’s what I did and learned:
Prompt: What's the difference between passion and zealotry?
AI Generated Response: Passion is a strong feeling of enthusiasm, love, or desire for something, while zealotry is an extreme or fanatical devotion to a cause or belief, often characterized by intolerance of other viewpoints and a willingness to act unethically or violently to promote one's ideas. While zeal can be intense and driven, zealotry often implies an excess of zeal that can become harmful or lead to fanaticism.
I am not sure if I could identify the difference between the two without equivocation. Yet, I was reminded and learned that if passion is the realm of feeling then zealotry is more so in that of behavior and action. This is often a gray area and sometimes a fine line. It is one, that when crossed, can lead to far less clarity. Pinchas has passion for God, as we learn in Torah (Num. 25:10) according to the JPS translation. However, the Hebrew (koof-nun-aleph) is much closer to zealousness. So, was Pinchas a passionate adherent to God and Israel? Or was he a zealot driven to actions he justified as piety?
This is for us to discern, and not about Pinchas per se, but rather in each instance, each moment we are confronted with a value choice. I find myself asking this question about the realities on the ground in Israel. What is passion for our people and what is zealotry? I urge you to study the recent words of Rabbi Josh Weinberg (click here>>>). He outlines reality among Israeli society at this moment. He outlines the messianism of the settler movement (perhaps with a tinge of zealotry?) and the passion of Progressive Judaism. As you read, consider how we as a people, we as a community, each of us as Jews/Jewishly adjacent can live our passion and avoid the pitfalls of zealotry.
Pinchas receives a covenant of peace from God for his actions. I struggle to feel this is the right response by God. Yet, it is our story and our charge to wrestle with it, to make meaning from it, and respond to our moment…perhaps with passion.
May this week provide opportunities to feel passion for our people and tradition and may we be guided by our highest principles in all we do.
Shavua Tov,
Rabbi Evon
Message July 8, 2025: Balak
By Rabbi Evon Yakar
Shalom,
Gratitude is the order of the day for me. I am grateful to our community leaders for granting me the sabbatical just concluded. Rabbi Lauren is also deserving of my thanks for her leadership and presence during this time. My days since April first were filled with embracing time with my kiddos. We played, recreated, read, planned for Caleb’s Bar Mitzvah, and enjoyed a flexible schedule. One somewhat unexpected positive was the chance to coach Little League this past Spring. I challenged myself to embrace baseball, I tested my team-building skills to corral nine and ten-year-olds on the diamond and in the dugout, and I witnessed my little guy Jonah demonstrate amazing fortitude and grow in beautiful ways. During the final month of sabbatical, Rachel and I were blessed to celebrate twenty years of marriage with a weekend away. I think about this brief expression of gratitude and I am also grateful to Rachel, my partner in all and best friend. She embraced my sabbatical presence and energy with such grace and love - thank you!
A sabbatical is a unique gift and opportunity. Among them is the chance to broaden and shift perspectives, for time to distill all that occurs throughout our days at a different pace allowing lessons to be differently clear. Returning to my routines and work flows with energy is a commitment I am making. In Torah this week, we are witness to an amazing story. One that many consider Torah’s moment of comedy. It is parahsat Balak, the story of the Moabite King wishing to condemn us, the non-Israelite prophet Balaam hired for the task, Balaam’s talking donkey, and ultimately words of blessing. (Check out Balak resources here - click>>>.) At the comedic height of the story, Balaam is saddled on his trusted donkey en route to curse our ancestors. Yet, the donkey is confronted with an angel of God and swerves from the path. Eventually, even Balaam’s eyes are opened to witness the angel.
A B Mitzvah student once taught me in reference to this story that it is about being more spiritually aware. The parasha is a reminder to take stock, to step back and see more broadly, with a more open heart, all that unfolds before us. At the end of each day, our control is only over how we respond to what occurs in our lives, in our world. To master our own behaviors and actions, to measure our words. The story of this non-Israelite prophet Balaam is one that has the power to lift our eyes to see more, to broaden perspective, to not rush to conclusions.
This was a gift of sabbatical: Time to discern and distill what matters, to gain perspective and clarity on the possibility here in our community, and to hone commitment to what I am able. Thank you for the gift of time and thank you to our ancestors, those who curated our Torah story, for giving us this tale of ‘spiritual awareness’ and even a good laugh!
Shavua Tov,
Rabbi Evon
Reflections from your Board President: Proud to Be an American Jew
Happy Fourth of July!
They say the Fourth of July is the one day all Americans come together to celebrate independence, freedom—and the fact that we can eat an unreasonable number of hot dogs without judgment. (As the rabbi said to the caterer: “Just because it’s kosher doesn’t mean it’s a mitzvah to eat twelve!”)
As we prepare to celebrate the Fourth of July this coming Shabbat, I’m filled with gratitude—for this country, for our freedoms, and for our community. I am a proud American Jew. Proud to live in a place where I can practice my faith openly, speak freely, and raise my family with both Jewish values and American ideals.
At North Tahoe Hebrew Congregation, we are blessed to live those values every day. Our Temple family is built on the cornerstones of Torah, tradition, and togetherness. As we gather around barbecues and picnic blankets this week, let’s also gather in spirit with one another—remembering the blessings of freedom and the joy of belonging.
This Shabbat, as fireworks light up the sky, may we be reminded of the sparks within us—the ner tamid, the eternal light, that guides us to justice, compassion, and connection. As it says in our Torah, “Proclaim liberty throughout the land to all the inhabitants thereof” (Leviticus 25:10). This verse, engraved on the Liberty Bell, speaks to our dual identity as Jews and Americans—charged to bring light to the world, and liberty to all. From my family to yours, I wish you a joyful, safe, and spirited Fourth of July. May your hearts be full, your table surrounded by loved ones, and your soul uplifted by the blessings of freedom and faith.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Independence Day!
Heidi Doyle