Capital Campaign Kick-Off
We are kicking off a Ramath Orah capital campaign in the Winter of 2015. This is the first Ramath Orah Capital Campaign in our recent history—perhaps in our entire history—since the Congregation first purchased this building in 1942. We want to celebrate the synagogue’s 75th Anniversary by ensuring the synagogue’s future viability with a comprehensive rehabilitation of a decaying physical plant.
The Campaign comes now as essential features of our building’s infrastructure such as the roof, the vault, and the electrical systems underneath it are on the verge of failing. Our gas has been shut off since the summer because of a leak that cannot be repaired without replacing most of the interior lines. If you look at the edges of our domed roof, you will see paint and plaster deterioration caused by a roof that is no longer able to keep water from seeping through to the interior. The way we have dealt with these issues in the past—by patching and jerry rigging around these problems—is no longer an effective strategy.
Those problems are for the most part invisible to all of you. In contrast, the “failure” of the stained glass windows and the resulting frigid temperatures inside the sanctuary are really the first time that we as a congregation can see and feel the problem in the flesh, so to speak. There have been little holes and cracks in the stained glass windows for years. But when we say they have “failed,” we mean that the solder that holds the panes of glass together and the frame and joints of the windows are no longer structurally sound. The frame itself is rusting away, and the window no longer keeps cold air out and warm air in during the winter; or warm air out and cool, air-conditioned air in during the summer.
Your Board has concluded that piecemeal patchwork is no longer sufficient to address these problems. In order to survive as a congregation in this location, we need to address these structural problems in a comprehensive fashion, and hence, this capital campaign.
Ramath Orah will celebrate its 75th Anniversary in 2017, so we are building this campaign to converge with that special event. It will be a three-year campaign with the theme of Re-Dedication, Reunion, and Renewal.
We are asking all members to make a commitment payable annually over the next three years (2015-17) toward this Capital Campaign. We need this commitment to be in addition to your current level of support for Ramath Orah’s annual operating budget that you routinely make through your dues, your contributions to things like the Kol Nidre appeal, the annual dinner, sponsorship of kiddushes, and other programmatic support like children’s programming, and other events. In other words, we cannot cannibalize our operating budget to pay for the repairs. We need to raise money in addition to the money we already spend to provide programs and services to all of you.
We don’t expect you to make these commitments without a thorough understanding of what the building’s challenges are and how we intend to meet them. We hope to meet with each and every one of you, either individually or in small groups, over the winter and spring to give you a briefing on what the problems are, what solutions we are proposing, and their cost.
I haven’t mentioned the reasons why we believe Ramath Orah is an institution worthy of being preserved. We assume that you all care as deeply about this place and the people in it as we do, and that you appreciate the special environment of this synagogue and the significance it plays in your life and in your children’s lives. But when we meet with you to talk about your participation in this campaign, we will certainly engage you in that discussion as well. In the meantime, you might remind yourself of some of the highlights of the past few years at Ramath Orah by looking at our photo gallery or videos.
In addition to these meetings, we will continue to remind you at every opportunity of this capital campaign and its progress both through emails, postings like this one, presentations, and the like.
Now, I will turn this over to Rabbi Grussgott, who will explain to you why God insists that you all participate in this effort to the maximum extent possible in order to keep Ramath Orah going and thriving.
The above is a slightly modified version of Daniel Victor’s kickoff to the Capital Campaign, originally delivered Saturday, February 21, 2015
Rabbi Grussgott's Drasha on the Capital (Capitol) Campaign
This text reflects the drasha given by Rabbi Moshe Grussgott at Ramath Orah on February 21, 2015
Capital Campaign Speech - Parshat Teruma 5775
A few miles south of here is the oldest congregation in North America, Shearith Israel. Some people make the mistake of walking into that shul and thinking that their current building has been there since the seventeenth century. While the congregation does indeed date back that far, the current building which houses it is, in fact, much newer. The distinction of having the oldest congregational building belongs to the Touro Synagogue in Rhode Island. This discrepancy between congregation and building constitutes a friendly point of contention between Touro and Shearith Israel in their differing claims of who can really boast the title of “oldest shul in America.” And it raises the same philosophical question for us all: what defines a shul? Is it the building, or the congregation within it? Sometimes this can be a false distinction. Allow me to elaborate.
In our parsha, Teruma, we find the commandment to build the first congregational building of worship: V’Asu Li Mikdash, V’Shachanti B’Tocham. “Build for Me a sanctuary,” says God, “and I shall dwell amongst them.” According to the Zohar, the commandment to build the Mikdash is also the source for the obligation of each and every Jewish community to build a synagogue for itself. The equation of synagogue and Mikdash is spelled out more explicitly in the Gemara, Tractate Megillah 29b, quoting Yechezkel 11:16, “Although I have sent them far away among the nations and scattered them among the countries, I will be for them as a minor sanctuary (Mikdash Me’at) for them in the countries where they have gone.” The rabbis comment that the term “minor sanctuary,” mikdash me’at, refers to the houses of study and the synagogues, which apparently contain a small element of Kedushat Mikdash, the sanctity of the Temple.
The shul has always been a mikdash me’at, a minor Temple. But today it’s also much more than that. About ten years ago my father and I visited my grandfather’s hometown of Bardejov, in present day Slovakia, just a few months after my Zaydie had died. There was only one Jew left living in Bardejov, named Meyer. He showed us around town, to the cemetery and the old shul buildings, which were now completely empty, but which the government had preserved. Meyer spoke in Yiddish with my father, who translated for me. As Meyer was showing us the various shuls in town, I inquired as to which of the shuls my grandfather davened in. Meyer told me that sometimes he would go to this one, and sometimes to that one, etc. I asked my father: Why wasn’t Zaydie loyal to one community? Why did he jump around from shul to shul? My father smiled and told me that I was thinking anachronistically. In Bardejov, the whole town was one community. The various shul buildings were just spaces which housed different minyanim, but they weren’t each separate communities. For example, he told me, the various shuls in town didn’t each have their own Rabbi; there was one Rav for the whole town, and he oversaw all the minyanim. Our prevalent model in America, on the other hand, is that the shul building is synonymous with the community itself. For us, the building and the community have become inseparable.
The sign outside above our awning says “Kehilla Kedosha Ramat Orah,” the holy community of Ramath Orah. In my grandfather’s town, such a sign, had there been one, would have been found at the entrance to the town. For us, it adorns our building. This is what the shul building has become. This building is all that we have. Successive generations of our community have davened and celebrated simchas here. I think of Daniel Henkin’s Bar Mitzvah which took place in this building several decades ago, and of his son Sammy’s Bar Mitzvah which will be here in the same space, please God, this spring. I think of Mrs. Eskin’s wedding, may she live and be well, which took place in this building seventy years ago, and of another wedding which I officiated here just a few weeks ago, where members of the shul came together to help make the minyan. Do we want there to continue to be weddings and Bar Mitzvahs here in another seventy years, and beyond? That’s what is at stake in this capital campaign.
Since Purim is approaching, I’d like to conclude with a somewhat tongue-in-cheek Talmudic analysis of the term “Capital Campaign” itself. Although, like any good Purim Torah, there’s an important element of truth to it as well. When I emailed Jessica that my speech this Shabbat would be on the subject of “The Capital Campaign,” I had a moment of confusion, and had to Google the word “capital” to ascertain how it is spelled. Is it “capital” with an “A,” or “capitol” with an “O”? They are two different words. “Capital” with an “A” means money, as in Marx’s famous book Das Kapital. Using this spelling for the term “Capital Campaign” implies that the campaign is focused mainly on procuring money. It turns out that this is, in fact, the accurate spelling for “capital campaign.” And so, this is the spelling which we are using in all our announcements and materials, including in the posters you see in the hallway. But I’d like to suggest the alternate spelling as a sort of drush (homily). The word “Capitol” with an “O” means a stately building, usually one which houses a legislature, as in the Capitol building in DC or in a particular state. It derives from an old Roman term for a holy temple. I’d like to suggest that we view this not as a Capital Campaign merely for money, but rather as a “Capitol Campaign” (with an “O”)—a campaign to save our capitol, our holy temple, our mikdash me’at, our precious building since our founding in 1942. This building is synonymous with our community, and we simply cannot endure without it. Let’s ensure that it—and we—continue to endure and grow together for many years to come. Good Shabbos.