Rabbi Brad Levenberg
Our congregational trip to Scotland, which concluded early this week, gave our Temple Sinai travelers so much to remember. The magnificent Highlands, castles that seem to emerge from the pages of history, breathtaking scenery, and, of course, more than a few opportunities to appreciate Scotland’s celebrated whisky. But among all these extraordinary experiences, one evening stands apart.
We had the privilege of spending an evening with members of the Glasgow Reform Synagogue. They opened their doors to us, welcomed us into their lives, and shared what it means to build and sustain Jewish community in a place very different from Atlanta. What followed was something far more meaningful than a visit between two congregations; we found ourselves sharing stories, discovering common experiences, and enjoying the easy familiarity that sometimes emerges between people who have only just met.
It was one of the finest experiences of Jewish connection I’ve encountered on a congregational journey.
This week’s Torah portion, Vayera, opens with Abraham sitting at the entrance of his tent when he notices three strangers approaching. Despite the heat of the day, Abraham rushes to greet them, offers them food and water, and invites them to rest. His hospitality is so extraordinary that the rabbis of old derive from this encounter a remarkable teaching: welcoming guests is greater than receiving the Divine Presence.
In Scotland, our hosts offered us something that Abraham understood thousands of years ago: hospitality isn’t simply about opening a door or providing a meal. It’s about opening a part of ourselves to others, allowing strangers to become friends, and reminding one another that belonging isn’t limited by geography.
And there was another lesson in that evening. We sometimes think of Jewish peoplehood as an abstract idea, something we affirm in prayer or discuss in classrooms. But Jewish peoplehood becomes real when we sit across from one another, listen to each other’s stories, and recognize that our lives are connected even when our circumstances differ.
It turns out that holiness doesn’t require grand spectacle; it can begin with the simplest invitation: come in. Sit with us. There’s a place for you here.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Brad Levenberg
