Except for some technical issues that piqued some of those attending High Holiday services online this year — and we did take steps to correct those problems in the interim between Rosh Hashanah Day 2 and Kol Nidre a week later, thanks to some wizardry by our own Andrea Blaga — services were as well run and enjoyable as ever I’ve witnessed. As president, standing in the place where the buck stops, I must admit to a few pre-holiday jitters re: that all would run according to plan and that those attending would find the peace, inspiration and spiritual fulfillment they seek during the Days of Awe. Although no one actually said those words — and I certainly hope those words describe your High Holiday experience at our shul —  a couple of thumbs-up from those in the seats kept my blood pressure at normal.

As the various services were rolling along, I allowed myself the luxury to look around at what we had accomplished — the operative word being “we.” The curious aspect of a job well done — running like the proverbial well-oiled machine — is how simple it looks to throw it all together.

            I know, I know, I should have been looking inward, not outward. But what I observed in my surreptitious glances around the room is that it looked as though High Holiday services could be put together in an afternoon, with a long tea break somewhere in the middle. Move the Torahs from the sanctuary to the community room, arrange the chairs, put some flowers on the bimah, remind the cantor to allow time for heavier-than-usual traffic on the Long Island Expressway, and turn over the pulpit to the rabbi, who has, after all, led High Holiday services here for the last 10 years.

Done. What’s the big deal?

Yet, when I thought about the number of people it actually took to make this event happen, seemingly as easy as falling off the proverbial log, I began to wonder which number was higher — those working behind the scenes or those attending.

What I’m laying the groundwork for is a shout-out to a bunch of volunteers, people you don’t see, people out of the spotlight of the bimah and its accouterments, people who spend sleepless nights, skip meals, and generally devote their thoughts full time to making the arduous tasks of High Holiday preparation look so simple.

I had originally asked some of our volunteer leaders to provide a list of all those who had stepped forward to help. Alas, this is always dangerous. Someone could be left out. I dared not take that risk. So you’ll not find names here. (Well, there is one.) All are deserving of praise and thanks, and some are deserving of my undying gratitude. Who are they? The greeters, the Haftorah readers, the room set-up people and chair arrangers, those responsible for flowers and apples, those who worked in the kitchen and shopped and prepared the break-the fast meal, the people who installed extra lighting and arranged additional security measures, those who built the sukkah, delivered corn stalks, developed ads and publicity, collected books, put donor envelopes on chairs, and reset the room when the day’s worshippers filed out, leaving the room in disarray. To our own Andrea (yes, one name), who singlehandedly ran a computer setup that rivaled a NASA space launch, and to the many unsung heroes, I sing your praises.

Rabbi Gadi made an interesting observation in his Rosh Hashanah message to the congregation. Referring to my presidential duty to ask the congregation to respond generously to the annual appeal for funds, he acknowledged that money is, indeed, important — necessary — to keep us afloat, to maintain our Jewish presence here on the North Fork. But we are more than a building, he said, more than a rabbi, a cantor, and beautiful flowers on the bimah. What he said, and what has been demonstrated here in high relief over the past weeks, is our sense of community — people working together, volunteering together, basking in the rite of belonging. “Community,” he said, “is the heart and soul of our shul.”

When you looked inward this year, I hope you saw yourself reaching outward as a member of our community, our shul family, our continuing Jewish legacy. Want to be a part of that? Call me.

—Sara Bloom