Ordination Speech by Rabbi David Goodman
In the presence of my teachers and Rabbis, ladies and gentlemen, my family, and my partners and companions on this journey, the members of the community who came here to show their support, and with the presence of this distinguished audience. I am excited to stand here before you at my ordination ceremony, where I receive not only a title but also a vocation and mission – to be a Masorti rabbi in Israel. It is a great honor for me to answer this call. I hope I am worthy of it.
My bride, my beloved wife – who is my teacher, my rabbi, and my partner in the rabbinate – has stood by my side all along. We are raising our daughters together, and together we are growing alongside our community, Moreshet Avraham in Jerusalem. We are lucky to have been working in a place that brings together Torah and prayer, kindness and community, a place that brings the love of God and the love of humanity together, and a place committed to eternal love. My partnership with you is greater than two witnesses, which is why I chose to walk in here together, just you and me. Praying that this ceremony will grant us the blessing of our shared path, and will blow a strong wind in our sails.
By my side, but in another world, my grandfather, my teacher and rabbi, the late Rabbi Arnold Goodman, also walks with me. He dedicated his life to leading traditional, communal, and ethical Judaism – in the United States and in Jerusalem. We would call the long nights in which we would argue, listen, and think ‘Small Talks’. Every year, in the middle of the summer, we would begin to meet for a coffee and come up with ideas for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. I was lucky to witness those abstract ideas, those thick brush strokes, slowly weave into a sermon. My grandfather, who was very proud of my rabbinate, has always helped me with a warm smile. I'm sure he’ll be proud when I hang up – next to his ordination certificate from JTS from 1952 – the certificate of ordination from Schechter in 2024 – on my office walls. May the good memories of him and his great wisdom continue to accompany me along my journey.
We all need comfort these days, and especially those who have lost the dearest to them, those who were injured or were harmed in the war, but also everyone else, everyone who lived and still lives in the midst of the continuous terror, in the bereavement and the loss.
We must find comfort through the cracks. If it were not for comfort, our fate would be bitter.
On Shabbat we read about the passing of Sarah. The midrash says that Sarah passed away after hearing that Avraham had gone to sacrifice Isaac. Sarah could not bear the grief, and died of it. Grief can kill, even if not in practice as in the Midrash, it does kill us on the inside when our soul drowns in grief.
Even as a society, grief can consume us from the inside, and that is precisely why we so desperately need comfort.
Comfort is first mentioned in the Torah at the end of the Genesis Torah portion, where it reads: “And he called his name Noah, saying: 'This same shall comfort us in our work.” Noah’s calling is comfort, granted by his name. Yet, you might think Noah has failed to accomplish his calling, since the flood has destroyed the earth.
However, it can be argued that Noah succeeded in his calling and we can learn an important lesson about what comfort is. Noah loses his entire generation in the flood, but he also builds an ark and thus protects every living soul. Although Noah does not prevent the disaster, it allows for dealing with the inevitable. Comfort comes in the face of what can no longer change. This is precisely where we can console ourselves and face the fact that the journey is not yet over. There is life and there is a world out there, there is friendship and partnership of Tikkun.
Noah and all the animals on the ark share an unimaginable experience of loss. In the flood waters, the ark could have sunk from the waves of grief and sorrow, but it didn't – because there was Noah, who, in the flood, reminded everyone of the world that will flourish again.
We learn from Noah an important lesson about the strength of life, even in the face of loss and destruction. Comfort does not have the power to cancel the harsh decree, but it does have the power to inspire us to choose life despite the disaster.
“From Your residence, Our King, You shall appear,” We say during the Kedushah in the morning services on Shabbat. This prayer is about absence; we do not know where God is and what His location might be. God will appear, but for the time being, God is hidden from our sight. However, we believe that God will still come and appear before us. When the partitions collapse, this will happen not only in the heavens, but also here: “May You grow and sanctify in the midst of Jerusalem, Your city, for generations, forever and ever” – the repair isn’t just the revelation, it is also a Tikkun of space and of society – the holy city of Jerusalem. We find comfort among the other mourners of Zion and in Jerusalem because our personal comfort is linked to Jerusalem, as a place and as a symbol. I believe in this Jerusalem and find comfort in it, and I march alongside partners who create a Jerusalem like this all over the world.
“May You grow and sanctify in the midst of Jerusalem, Your city, for generations, forever and ever” is the sentence I chose to appear on my ordination certificate. I am privileged to have lived and worked in Jerusalem, and to see my personal life weave into the story of this unique city. With my ordination, I pray for relief and comfort for all the sorrow and pain, may we learn to hear the comforts in our heart and comfort those who need it, in Jerusalem and anywhere else. Even though nowadays "the paths of Zion are mourning and are filled with pain and sorrow," we will grow and celebrate when "happiness and joy will be found in it, with gratitude and song.”
