Answering the Call

Answering the Call
Rabbi Lisa Rubin

Each year when we arrive at this moment in the calendar — when winter begins to loosen its grip and we open the Book of Leviticus together — I find myself thinking about beginnings.

Leviticus begins not with drama or spectacle, but with a single, quiet moment. “Vayikra el Moshe.” And God called to Moses. The rabbis notice something subtle in this opening word. The verb vayikra suggests intimacy. This is not a public proclamation meant for everyone. God calls specifically to Moses — personally — inviting him to come closer. And that idea becomes the organizing principle of the entire book.

Leviticus revolves around sacrifices. Page after page describes offerings brought to the altar: animals, grain, incense. This system feels distant to us as modern readers because the rituals belong to a religious world far removed from our own. However, the Hebrew word for sacrifice tells us what these acts were truly about.

The word is korban, from the root karov, meaning to come near. Sacrifice was never simply about giving something up. It was about relationship. About narrowing distance. It was about responding to a call to draw nearer — to God and to community; perhaps to a bigger purpose.

We know that Judaism eventually transformed. The altar disappeared. Sacrifices ended and were replaced with prayer, study, and acts of kindness as ways to be near to God. But one thing has never changed. Human beings are still responding to calls.

Tonight, and every year, this service gives us the opportunity to pause and recognize something extraordinary unfolding in Jewish life. We have the privilege of witnessing what happens when people hear a call to Judaism today and choose to answer.

Sometimes the call comes through love or partnership. Sometimes through intellectual curiosity, spiritual searching, family history, or encounters with the Jewish community.

But no one arrives by accident. Something pulls them closer. And they find the courage to act. They reorganize busy lives to study week after week. They learn unfamiliar words and sacred rhythms. They wrestle with theology and history. They ask difficult questions about identity and belonging. They imagine how Judaism will shape their homes, their families, and their futures.

Tonight, we celebrate 118 individuals who became Jewish this past year. One hundred eighteen people joined our community and our covenant.

And I want all 118 of you—whether you’re sitting here or livestreaming from your homes all over the world—I want you to know how inspiring you are.

Those of us born into Judaism inherit it so naturally that we sometimes forget to marvel at it. You help us see our tradition again with fresh eyes. You notice meaning where familiarity may have dulled our vision. You ask questions that renew ancient conversations. Simply by choosing Judaism, you strengthen Jewish life.

This year, that strength has felt especially powerful.

You converted at an extraordinarily painful moment in our history. Since October 7th, Jewish identity has felt more vulnerable and more complicated for many of us than at any time in recent memory.

And yet — in this very year — so many of you stepped forward and said you’ll stand with us, you’ll become one of us!

Some of you even chose Hebrew names honoring those murdered on October 7th, or victims lost in the months since. You linked your personal Jewish beginning with collective Jewish loss.

At a moment when many might have stepped back, you chose closeness and solidarity. The future of Judaism has always depended on people willing to answer a call. Abraham heard one. Ruth heard one. Generations throughout history heard one and acted accordingly. And tonight, we celebrate YOU, who heard it in our own time.

Conversion asks something profound of a person. It requires openness, courage and hope. If ancient Israelites once brought offerings forward to draw near to God, then perhaps today the offering is the self.

You offered your time. Your trust. Your curiosity. Your willingness to grow and change. And through that offering, distance disappeared. You are no longer approaching Judaism. You are Judaism. And for that, we thank you. We welcome you.

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Of course, none of this sacred work of welcoming happens alone.

I want to express my deep gratitude to my extraordinary colleagues in the Center for Exploring Judaism — Rabbis Darcie Crystal, April Davis, and Sivan Rotholz — gifted teachers and compassionate guides who accompany our students on their journeys. They teach texts and traditions, yes, but even more importantly, they model the kind of Judaism our students come seeking: thoughtful, joyful, rigorous, and deeply welcoming. Rachel Laquercia keeps our office running smoothly. The whole Adult Engagement Team cheers us on.

And I want to express my thanks, too, to our Senior Rabbi, Angela Buchdahl, and our Executive Director, Marcia Caban. In their leadership and supportive congregational home, the Center for Exploring Judaism exists and continues to flourish. Ultimately, our work has been made possible here for 16 years because this congregation believes that welcoming those who seek Judaism is essential to the Jewish future.

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The Book of Leviticus begins with a call. But the story only continues because someone responds. Tonight, we celebrate those of you who responded — and we give thanks for your stories and your Jewish lives which are now inseparable from ours. How blessed we are to walk this journey together.

And now, it is our great privilege to publicly recognize and honor you.

First, I’d like to call up Rabbis Crystal and Rotholz. And now, I invite our new Jews to please rise and make your way to the bimah for your first aliyah as members of the Jewish people.

For those joining us online from across the country and around the world, we feel your presence with us tonight and invite you to rise wherever you are and join in the blessings together with our community.