Letter: ‘Temple Bat Yam has changed me’
My husband often tells me that I use too many superlatives. What can I say? Everything in my life just keeps getting better. On the other hand, some things continue to remain the very best. Months for example: October has been, and still is, my favorite month
Having a birthday in October helps. But it’s my favorite month for another reason — Halloween — the gateway holiday to so many upcoming family gatherings.
When growing up Halloween meant tons of goodies, but the part I liked best was getting a chance to dress up as someone different. While wearing a costume I was transformed. I was no longer shy Amy.
Being a member of Temple Bat Yam has been transformative, too, but in a far more meaningful way. Since joining four years ago I believe that I am becoming a more thoughtful and caring person. Yes, Temple Bat Yam has changed me. For one thing these monthly editorial contributions would never have happened if not for the positive impact Temple Bat Yam has had on me.
There are of course parallels between Halloween and Temple Bat Yam. For example the costumes and goodies we take away. At Temple Bat Yam I can wear different outfits; I can wear my bike outfit for the Riding Chai fundraiser, dress up as a hiker for the traditional walks around Spooner Lake, a beach bum when we do outdoor services at Reagan Beach, a funny clown for Purim in The Powder fundraiser and more recently glam girl for the High Holy Days. Furthermore, I always walk away with a ton of goodies — moral lessons, more friends, more knowledge about my heritage.
Yes, Temple Bat Yam is the best — best Shabbat services; best Shabbat school; best Torah study group; best outdoor adventures; best at reaching out to those in need and community service.
Trick or Treat? A blind man is sitting on a park bench. A rabbi sits down next to him. The rabbi is chomping on a piece of matzah. Taking pity on the blind man, he breaks off a piece and gives it to the blind man.
Several minutes later, the blind man turns taps the rabbi on the shoulder and asks, “Who wrote this bunk?’’
South Lake Tahoe, Calif.
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