KVELL
When something unexpectedly touches you, it's almost impossible not to have a visceral reaction. When IKAR makes that connection with a member of our community, we get a little like a proud bubbe: we just have to share. If you feel the need to kvell about IKAR, please email .
I loved celebrating Shabbat with you and your minyan; I was overcome with emotion more than once by the sincerity of the davening and the constant reminders of why we assemble on Shabbat and strive to keep it holy.
We LOVED IKAR. It's as if you people have designed my perfect shul – replete with knowledgeable, friendly, and warm congregants. Where did you get them – central Jewish casting?
I was a Hebrew School dropout. Disgusted with the Judaism 'Lite' espoused by the Conservative synagogue of my childhood, I went in search of a spiritually vibrant, politically engaged Jewish community committed to a culture of Jewish learning and prayer. I did not find it until I came to an IKAR service.
IKAR possesses a welcoming atmosphere rarely encountered in reform/conservative synagogues, and a non-judgmental one rarely found in the orthodox sphere. Rabbi Brous's commitment to social justice is infectious and has spurred many members to activism. At Ikar we never observe Jewish rituals in a vacuum. Through our learning led by Rabbi Brous, we are constantly reminded that sacred prayers are forever relevant and necessary.
The music of prayer at IKAR is electrifying. The melodies range from Ashkenazi old school to Carlebach, to one inspired by a Sufi chant! The people who lead services are not performing, they're praying. (It is amazing how much closer people can come to a prayer when they have the freedom to explore for themselves – when there isn't a someone performing it for them.)
It took me many years, and three continents to find Ikar. It is a blessing to be a part of this community.
In IKAR I have found the answer to the prayer for meaningful Judaism that my parents wished they had found, and the pride in the Judaism that I can't wait to share with my own children someday.
Rabbi Sharon Brous and IKAR saved my soul.
Working in Hollywood for six years is enough to drain anyone's soul. Despite the fact that there is a large Jewish community in Los Angeles, within six years I still hadn't found any reprieve within it. At my Jewish mother's urging, I searched - but the synagogues I encountered felt sterile, the leadership distant, and the atmosphere far from welcoming. Sadly, over time I gave up my search and inadvertently began losing my connection with Judaism and a Jewish community.
Until I had the good fortune of meeting Rabbi Sharon Brous, who invited me to an IKAR service. Hesitant, I showed up to the Jewish Community Center and was immediately drawn in by the beautiful music of the congregation. I took a seat in the back just as the music died down.
Rabbi Brous shared a story and engaged the congregation in a fascinating discussion. The content was certainly interesting, but most fascinating was the participation of the congregation. Tons of young adults, kids, men and women shared thoughts as a community with an enthusiasm that I had never before seen in any Jewish space. I was stunned. After the learning, Rabbi Brous resumed the service with more beautiful prayers. And the congregation not only followed along, but also some of the women began to dance! Next thing I knew, my hand was grabbed and I was dancing with them. I was so happy and overwhelmed that I actually started crying. I was crying because I hadn't realized how long it had been since I had felt as though I was part of a community. I was crying because I realized how dangerously close I had been to losing my Judaism, a significant part of my identity, my passion, my life. From that moment on, I became a member of IKAR and diligently attended services and activities. IKAR has truly been a gift, one that I hope to pass along to many others.
I am not easily impressed. So, when I was invited a couple of weeks ago to attend Friday night services at a "start-up" synagogue on the Westside, I was pretty skeptical. Was this going to be some new-age, trendy, touchy-feely experience (i.e., something up Madonna's... excuse me, ESTHER's... alley)? Would I have to stand in a circle, hold hands, and sing kumbaya? Would I be able to sneak out early without being noticed?
What I saw and heard when I arrived there blew me away. Over 150 people (mostly 20 and 30-somethings and young families) had come together for an egalitarian, traditional, energetic, Friday-night service led by a bright, articulate rabbi not much older than I. The spirit of the congregation and accompanying sound of the percussion were entrancing. The second I entered the room, I forgot all about the office I had just left, and simply smiled.
If you do not belong to a synagogue, or if your parents' synagogue doesn't cut it, IKAR might just be the place for you. Because IKAR is new and young, you and I have a rare opportunity to help build this community from the ground up. IKAR (meaning root/core/essence) is a brand-new congregation dedicated to building community and tikkun olam. Led by the dynamic Rabbi Sharon Brous, IKAR is about finding our place in the world and fulfilling our obligations to others.
I love IKAR because it infuses soul into prayer. It infuses morality into Torah that is often lost on those who would rather study nuances of law rather than the clear moral prescriptions of our Gd. I celebrate IKAR because it embraces with clear conscience a moral ideology that melds with a theology that does not preach knowledge of Gd's mind but rather the ability to leave the exile of daily life, and enter the way of Gd: not through mere prayer, but through sacred service.
Torah is meant to be lived, not merely studied. I only wish we could bring IKAR to every congregation of Jews...
I stopped going to temple for the high holidays years ago, when I realized not going resulted in neither the appearance of a vengeful God nor a good talking-to from my mom. But I recently started dipping my toe back into the spiritual kiddie pool. And so this Rosh Hashanah I found myself in full Jew garb, sitting on a folding chair in the auditorium of a community center. Four small disco balls left from a previous event - I hope - hung over the congregation. My girlfriend, Jess, and I were looking for a service that - while ostensibly celebrating the beginning of a new year - didn't feel like we were getting our molars removed with pliers. And so a friend hipped us to this upstart congregation, which was apparently renting this hall - the home of a recent sock-hop - and we decided to give it a shot.
We were initially excited but, as the day approached, we became increasingly skeptical. Mostly because of the Web site. It started out promising enough, asking, "Not interested in counting pages and watching the clock while sitting through interminable High Holy Day services again this year?" Why, no, no we're not. Please do go on. "We create a participatory, communal worshiping experience. We will pray, dance, study and sing through the liturgy of the High Holy Days," the site continued. Jess and I turned to each other. Um, did it say "dance"?
Our fears were somewhat assuaged upon entering the building. Disco balls notwithstanding, the organizers had managed a sense of decorative dignity normally elusive in community-center interior design.
Then, near the start of the proceedings, I was sold. In a spirit of celebration so appropriate for New Year's but sadly lacking in the temples of my youth, kids came dancing in from the children's service dressed in makeshift crowns and, inexplicably, trash bags, as we rose and sang songs of jubilation (or, perhaps, songs of absolute subjugation to a spiteful God, I'm not really sure, I don't understand Hebrew. But the tunes were catchy). Though it's only 5765, I'd venture to say we partied like it was 5799. One kid even clung to a stuffed Torah. Learning they make stuffed Torahs was in itself worth the trip.
The Days of Awe are now behind us, and I've returned my yarmulke and tallis to their rightful place: on the shelf in the back of my closet, next to a pair of ripped Levi's I'm hiding from Jess. I have myself returned to the secular world as Stealth Jew. But I've returned rejuvenated, my spiritual tank topped off with enough fresh insight and inspiration to proudly declare, when duty calls, "Um, actually, I'm Jewish."
I was so lucky to be able to attend your service on Shabbat. The davening and the space you create is so real and so wonderful. I felt completely centered and at peace, which is exactly what Shabbat is meant to inspire us to be. Thank you for giving me a real Shabbat, it was heavenly.
| Overheard from the backseat of a Los Angeles shlepmobile... | |
| Kid 1: | "Do you go to IKAR?" |
| Kid 2: | "What's IKAR?" |
| Kid 1: | "It's like Hanukkah, but all year long." |
...services were awesome last friday nite (as always)!! you create such a great vibe - wonderful music, inspiring words, warm community.....thank you!