Readers of The Shofar, particularly those who pause for a moment to skim the president’s message, may have noticed that this president tends to use personal experience as the catalyst that informs her bully pulpit. This should come as no surprise; remember, it is this president who leads a memoir-writing class as a side hustle. And what is memoir? Past experience.

For this month’s Shofar message, I’ve chosen a past experience that occurred only a short time ago — on a rainy Sunday morning with a forecast for more to come. It was the day of the shul’s much-publicized Hanukkah event.

Come morning, it was gray and overcast, and by noon, it had drizzled on and off a few times, then seemed to stop for an extended period. Maybe… Phone calls and email messages flew back and forth among Greenport Mayor Kevin Steussi, parks superintendent Doug Jacobs, and this president. The cause of all the consternation was, of course, the menorah lighting in Mitchell Park, scheduled for 5 that afternoon. Will we meet in the park? Will we chance a break in the rain? Or not? Sara, make a decision.

And there it is — the theme of this month’s message: decision making. Some decisions are easier than others, to be sure. Should I have a bagel for breakfast or whole wheat toast, which is not as tasty, but is healthy. Or, what should I wear today? I’m reminded of the old joke about the Jewish mother who buys her son two sweaters for Hanukkah. The next morning, he appears in one of the sweaters. As his mother gazes at his sartorial choice, she says, “You don’t like the other one?”

When it comes to decision making, I always think back to my friend and former boss, the editor of the newspaper group I still work for from time to time. David gave sage advice in response to my question, “David, of all the major stories that cross your desk, how do you know which one gets top billing?” And he said, “I make my best judgment, and I stick with it.” Stick with it, the operative phrase.

This was what I had to decide: Do I keep with tradition and go with the park program, no matter the weather, making the traditionalists in our shul happy, weather be damned? Or should I take a cautionary stance — not risk colds and flu in bad weather and, good grief, suppose somebody slips and gets injured walking on wet pavement to and from the shul?

Poor Mr. Jacobs was still waiting for me to give him the word as I drove from home to the shul around 2:30 or 3 to check on the latkes and room decorations underway. Uh-oh, on the way, droplets on the windshield. That’s it. No park. I arrived at the shul and, not even waiting to get inside, I sent a text to Doug Jacobs with my no-go decision. Then I texted Andrea to send the predetermined email message to members and friends, and post the decision on the website. Done…

…except for the comments to come. “You did what? We’ve lighted the park menorah in rain, snow, whatever.” And, “I guess you did the right thing, but…” Reassuringly, one person gave me a thumbs up, saying, “I’d have cancelled it first thing in the morning and saved myself the headache.”

At 5 o’clock, I busied myself at the shul, didn’t even look out of the window at the weather, didn’t want to know whether a downpour was occurring, or if all was clear and starry, a lovely night in Mitchell Park. I remembered David Kirkwood: make your decision, and stick with it. Not that I could change it…

Why am I telling you this?

Because people face decisions all day long and, as shul members, one important decision every single week. It’s not a life threatening one, but it’s consistent. Shabbat occurs every Friday at sundown and lasts till sundown Saturday —  every week, without fail, no exceptions, no surprise. Will you say, “Well, it’s really comfortable here in my Archie Bunker chair. Maybe next week.” Or will you make the decision to start your week on an uplift, joining together with congregants in song and story for an inspirational takeaway that gives you something to think about all week?

Here in January, at the start of a new civic year, I hope you will choose the latter — decide to come to shul, for god’s sake — for God’s sake and yours. Make the decision. And stick with it.

—Sara Bloom