Kol Nidre - 2024/5785
Rabbi David Baum

This week, my friend and colleague Rabbi Philip Weintraub called me and asked for a favor. He lives in St. Pete, and he evacuated to Atlanta, but some of his congregants are in South Florida and need a shul for Yom Kippur. I wrote him a quick letter, told him to send it out to his congregation, and they posted it on their Facebook page. And then it got shared, and shared, until suddenly, it was in every Jewish newspaper in the country:
“Countless synagogues outside of the storm’s path offered shelter — and a seat in services — to evacuees looking for a new place to pray on Yom Kippur. Congregation Shaarei Kodesh in Boca Raton, in southeast Florida, was one of several congregations to advertise free seats on Yom Kippur for Jews fleeing the hurricane.
“The High Holy Days are a time for reflection, renewal, and coming together as a people,” the synagogue posted on Facebook, above a map of the hurricane’s path. “In this moment, we are called to build a Sukkat Shalom — a shelter of peace — for one another. Whether it’s through offering a place to pray, a seat at the table, or simply the comfort of community, we strengthen our bonds and provide safety and support in the face of the storm, we are here for you.”
But as I wrote the letter, thinking it was just for this one congregation in Tampa, I thought to myself, is this really all I could do? How can giving them a seat in our theater really help them?
And then, I put myself in their shoes. If the tables were turned, we would be on the West Coast, bringing what we could in our cars, knowing we may be coming home to nothing. Imagine having just a day to evacuate, knowing you might never return—what would you bring with you? What would you need to feel at home?
Reflecting on these questions, I realized that genuine support goes beyond physical things; it requires developing tools of emotional and spiritual resilience.
This year, I completed a two-year Clergy Leadership Program with the Institute of Jewish Spirituality. I thought this program would be a good way for me to develop those skills professionally for my work as a rabbi. The program came at the right time in my life. Little did I realize that the tools I learned about: meditation and other mindfulness practices along with a cohort of other clergy, would help me through the toughest year of my life.
My mother’s death came as a shock to us. Although logically we should have been prepared, we just thought there would be one more year. Sometimes, we face storms that we don’t know are coming; and sometimes, we pretend like they aren’t coming. Either way, we find ways to protect ourselves.
The mindfulness practices I developed through IJS helped me create an ark, a way to cope with the storms I was facing.
This led me to think about what protects us—physically, spiritually, and emotionally. In Judaism, we’ve always had an 'ark,' a teivah—not just physical—but a metaphorical ark that holds our values, our faith, and our community.
I thought about our congregation and the new ark that we built together. Would we bring it with us if we had to evacuate, or leave it behind?
After thousands of years of persecution, of being welcomed and then expelled from land after land, Jews have become experts at this art of being able to identify the core things in our lives and bring them with us.
And we’ve had a vessel that looks different in every generation but has the same name: Teivah or Ark. There’s an interesting parallel between Noah’s ark and the basket that Moshe was placed in by his sister Miriam to save him: they are both called the same word - Teiva or ark. Not all arks are built from the same materials, but they have the same purpose: to save our families: our past, present, and future.
So, if I were to have to evacuate CSK on an ark, I would bring the following: Shabbat, our Torah, and our community.
As we reflect on the idea of the 'teivah'—the ark that shelters and protects us in times of crisis—we can turn to a powerful teaching from the Slonimer Rebbe, Rabbi Sholom Noach Berezovsky, also known for his iconic work, the Netivot Shalom. Born in Europe, he moved to Israel in 1933, and became one of the few survivors from his Hassidic dynasty, which he rebuilt in Israel.
He offers a timeless teaching that resonates just as profoundly today as it did in the past, during moments of upheaval faced by our ancestors.

Photo by Elias Null on Unsplash
Have you ever heard the expression, Rome wasn’t built in a day? Well, neither was Noah’s ark. In the Midrash, we learn it took 120 years to build. The Midrash provides additional details about the challenges Noah faced, including how people mocked him while he built the Ark and how he used the process to warn them about the coming flood, so they could do teshuvah.
Despite the ridicule he faced, Noah remained steadfast in his task, continuing to build the Ark and preach repentance for 120 years.
Just as Noah was commanded to build his ark before the floodwaters came, the Rebbe urges us to build our own spiritual arks in advance, preparing for life's challenges. The time to create these protective vessels isn’t when the storm is raging, but long before, when the skies are still clear.
We, living today, have endured a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic, witnessed the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, two major missile attacks from Iran against Israel, and lived through a war that has torn apart nations, families, and communities.
Since October 7th, there has been an onslaught of anti-Semitism that has affected us all. We grieve the loss of our brave young soldiers and numerous innocent lives—men, women, and children. And just a couple of days ago, we faced the devastation of a once-in-a-lifetime hurricane, which may sadly become a recurring reality in our lifetimes. Our weeks are full of twists and turns, and with the whole world at our fingertips, the weight of the entire world feels like they are on our shoulders.
We, too, need an ark. We need a respite from the storms of the week and of the world.
The ark that we build for ourselves, and our communities, in every generation, is not made out of wicker or wood. It is an unseen ark, but it is the same ark that they had; an ark built by thousands of years of action, by millions of Jews:
Shabbat, Torah, and Spiritual Community.
He writes:
“There are several ways in which our divine service can be our personal Noah’s ark. One is Shabbat…Shabbat is like Noah’s ark, to protect us from the waters of the Flood, …Shabbat is like an Ark in which we can take shelter. The power of Shabbat is that it can save us in any situation,” he says that even if we have sinned terribly, God dwells upon us on Shabbat.
That is the power of Shabbat.
Today is not only Yom Kippur, but it is Shabbat Shabbaton (Leviticus 16:31; 23:32). It is the day in which we receive an extra soul (neshamah yeteira) and a day when we feel God’s presence more because we stop working. When we stop working and creating, we can observe and become aware of the wonders of God’s world.
God dwells in our Cathedral in time, Shabbat, but if we aren’t doing Shabbat, God can’t dwell there. This space can be anything else than what it is now; many former synagogues are now museums, nightclubs, and bars. God dwells there, after all, God is everywhere and in every thing, but people don’t recognize it.
As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel so eloquently said, "Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement… get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”
It seems simple, but it is so hard to achieve. That awareness takes practice, work, and others.
When we observe sacred time alone and together, we make space holy.
I want you to consider this question: When and how has Shabbat served as a protective “ark” in times of trouble in your life?
Shabbat at CSK is an oasis of joy for many, but it is even more than that. During the pandemic, it became a lifeline for the homebound and continues to be. One sacred guest remarked to me, “Your services literally saved my life during the pandemic.”
For this person, Shabbat was their Teivah; the one time a week when they felt a part of something.
Weekly, we create ark of Shabbat, a place for our chaverim, our sacred guests, a place for rest, reflection, safety and solidarity. In the last two years, we have been blessed with residents from JARC who have joined us every Shabbat morning for the last two years.
Shabbat is a time for us to work on our spiritual practice, like we’ve done with our Spirits of Shabbat services. It’s a time when we increase our awareness of the outside world. We slow down, take the earbuds out of our ears, lift our eyes up from our phones and screens, and look at the beautiful world that God created. Sometimes, when we allow the world to slow down, we can see things we could not have seen before.
For example, if you come to shul at CSK, you will see something different: a new ark.
For the last two years, our congregation actually built an ark together, it is one of a kind, and doesn’t exist anywhere else.
It was built through a group, the Beautification Committee, which became the Sanctification Committee. We started by looking at creative ways to beautify our space; but we ended up sanctifying our new space with a new ark.

The ark tells the story of our father Jacob. Fleeing after having his life threatened by his brother Esau, Jacob happens upon a nondescript place called Luz, and has an experience, a dream, seeing Angels going up and down a ladder, and God speaks to Jacob, and Jacob says:
וַיֹּ֕אמֶר אָכֵן֙ יֵ֣שׁ יְהֹוָ֔ה בַּמָּק֖וֹם הַזֶּ֑ה וְאָנֹכִ֖י לֹ֥א יָדָֽעְתִּי׃
Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, “Surely the LORD is present in this place, and I did not know it!”
וַיִּירָא֙ וַיֹּאמַ֔ר מַה־נּוֹרָ֖א הַמָּק֣וֹם הַזֶּ֑ה אֵ֣ין זֶ֗ה כִּ֚י אִם־בֵּ֣ית אֱלֹהִ֔ים וְזֶ֖ה שַׁ֥עַר הַשָּׁמָֽיִם׃
Shaken, he said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven.”
Jacob sees that God was always there, he just didn’t know it. Suddenly, he sees that there are angels all around him; he isn’t alone.
Chaverim, the angels are all around us; we can be those angels; we do not have to be alone; we can choose community.
But, community alone is not enough. We need something to hold us together at the center.
If we had to evacuate, taking this beautiful new ark wouldn’t be enough because what matters is what is inside.
The Netivot Shalom added another thing to bring on the ark with us: Torah.
He teaches us that the Torah is like a modern-day Noah’s Ark—something we need throughout our entire lives. Just as Noah’s Ark had three levels, we go through three stages in life: youth, middle age, and old age. Each stage has its own set of challenges—whether it's the struggles of youth, the competing demands of desire and making a living in middle age, or the unique issues that come with old age. Our understanding may evolve as we grow, but the Torah remains a constant guide. It’s our personal Ark, protecting us from the chaos of the world, helping us stay connected to God, and offering us a pure space—a Pinah Tehorah—that enables us to reach the Divine at every stage of our lives.
My friend, Rabbi Marci Bloch, hosted a fellow clergy member and family from the west coast of Florida for the hurricane. The Cantor asked her daughter to pack up quickly because they may never come back.
Her young daughter saw a mini Torah scroll, and tucked it in her bag, along with her favorite stuffed animal. Tomorrow, I will share the story of our Holocaust Torah, one of 1,526 Torahs rescued from Europe after the Holocaust.
That’s the power of Torah; it is our ark, and it is at the center of sanctuary, and our hearts.
The Netivot Shalom teaches us that not all communities create good in this world, which is one of our most important purposes. In our tradition, a synagogue is called, first a foremost, a Beit Knesset, a place of gathering. It is what we do in that space that makes it holy, but first, we must gather. He writes:
“When people of a good character get together, this gathering produces good things, even if they do nothing. The simple unity of good people strengthens the forces of good.”
It took us two years to build a new, beautiful ark, but through the process of learning, planning, and building, I’ve realized that we’ve been building that ark all along. It sustained us during rocky times and tranquil times.
Chaverim, as we stand together on this night, let us not forget that we have a sacred task as a holy community. We have been building an ark for the last fifteen years, an ark of 780 Shabbatot celebrated, immeasurable Torah shared, and a unique community that opens itself up for sacred guests in quiet times and during the many hurricanes, both literal and figurative, we’ve experienced together.
As we reflect on the power of Shabbat, Torah, and our spiritual community, let’s consider how we can build our own “arks” in our daily lives. Think about the ways you can create a sanctuary of peace and support for yourself and those around you. Whether it’s through observing Shabbat, engaging with Torah, or fostering a sense of community, each of us can build a protective vessel that can withstand life’s storms.
I encourage you to take a moment to reflect on this question: When and how has Shabbat served as a protective “ark” in times of trouble for you in your life?
Talk to one of our chaverim who join us weekly and ask them how Shabbat at CSK is an anchor in their lives.
Let us remember that the ark we build is not made of wood or wicker but of our collective actions and shared values. By coming together as a community every Shabbat, we create a powerful refuge that can weather any storm.
May we continue to build and strengthen our “arks” with Shabbat, Torah, and the spirit of our holy community.
Shabbat Shalom and G’mar Chatimah Tovah. May you be sealed in the Book of Life for a good year.
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