Congregation Beth El

Congregation Beth El Congregation Beth El - Tyler's oldest Jewish synagogue. We are a proud member of the Union for Reform Judaism.

Worship services are in-person * limited to current members and invited guests. Feel free to join us on Zoom
https://zoom.us/j/440126524
* services are password-protected, but we are happy to have you join
(reach out to us via email, phone, or Facebook Messenger for the password)

Services will also be simulcast Live on the Temple’s page.

09/06/2026

Elul 24/September 6
Rabbi Bradley Levenberg

There is a remarkably powerful difference between two ideas, represented by two words, that are often explored in Elul. Regret, the first idea, is one of the most accessible emotions we have. It arrives quickly, it sounds sincere, and, for a moment, it can even feel like we’ve tapped into something meaningful. But regret, on its own, doesn’t ask very much of us. It allows us to acknowledge a misstep without requiring that anything actually change.

Responsibility, the other idea, is different. It has heft, because it doesn’t just ask how we feel about something; it asks what we are willing to do to address it. Responsibility might mean a conversation we’ve been avoiding, an apology that names more than it softens, or (and?) a commitment to behave differently the next time we’re in a similar moment.

Elul draws a clear line between regret and responsibility. It honors the instinct to reflect, for sure, but it doesn’t let us stop there. These holy days push us, gently but firmly, toward action.

Because in the end, growth and change and the return that we desire as expressed through the High Holy Day liturgy isn’t measured by what we notice. It’s measured by what we’re willing to do about it.

09/05/2026

Elul 23/September 5
Rabbi Benjamin A. Sharff

One of my greatest struggles during this season is not seeking forgiveness from those whom I have hurt, whether intentionally or unintentionally. Rather, I find the hardest path to forgiveness is often towards myself. Meaning, forgiving myself for the mistakes I have made that have hurt myself psychologically, emotionally, or physically.

These are the mistakes of procrastination, self-indulgence, self-pity, despair, and denying myself the ability to be present, especially for those I most love and want to be there for. One can say this is the sacred work not just of a spiritual journey but also of therapy. It requires time of self-examination and self-reflection that often is the most difficult of journeys.

I wonder why it is so easy to recognize when we hurt others, but so hard to see when we hurt ourselves. I think part of it is because we can often see the impact. Pain in another person’s eyes is much easier to recognize than perhaps the pain in our own eyes. Also, we live with ourselves all of the time. Therefore, we can often excuse the actions we take towards ourselves, justifying them as simply part of how we navigate the day.

Lest we forget, true teshuvah, is not just turning or returning towards God and holiness, but at its core, it is also about turning towards our best selves. To do this, we have to be willing to forgive ourselves, so that we can truly find new pathways to become the people we aspire to be.

09/04/2026

Elul 22/September 4
Rabbi Deana Sussman Berezin

Our journey towards the High Holy Days begins long before Rosh Hashanah. It actually begins at Tisha B’Av. And with it comes the invitation to recognize the key places in our lives that need realignment, a chance to turn towards something new. The work of teshuvah begins now.

Rabbi Alan Lew, z”l, taught that we begin by facing what is broken rather than turning away from it. Only when we sit amidst our own crumbling walls, amidst our own grief, can we become conscious of how to move forward in a new way.

Over the course of a year, we harm and we experience harm. We are sometimes unkind. We wound people we care about. We wound ourselves. We do not walk away from those experiences unchanged. And so, the question is not Have I been changed? Rather, we ask, How have I been changed?

Elul invites us to sit honestly with that question. Where do we bear the imprints of heartache upon souls? Have our experiences made us more guarded or more compassionate? More fearful or more courageous? More withdrawn from community or more willing to reach out?

Our experiences shape who we are. Heartbreak leaves its mark. But through the work of teshuvah, we still have a voice in who we become.

May this time of reflection and renewal give us the courage to see what is broken, the wisdom to learn from it, and the strength to realign ourselves as we walk a new path.

09/03/2026

A Playlist designed to inspire and uplift as we transition from one year to the next. May these songs bring peace, hope, inspiration and comfort.

09/02/2026

Elul 20/September 2
Rabbi Andrew Rosenkranz

A passage in our Talmud declares: “A loved one – you do not see his faults. And a hated one – you do not see his merits.”

There are faults and merits in everyone, including – of course – ourselves. Sometimes the prejudices we hold against each other, both bad and good, can cloud how we view our relationships with each other. An adult child, for instance, may be incapable in your eyes of doing any wrong. Or a sometimes ornery neighbor who gives a wave across the street is incapable in your eyes of being sincere.

First impressions mean so much to us. But we know that people grow and change. After all, that’s why we go to synagogue during the High Holy Days, to evaluate how we have become different people.

Reflecting on our relationships allows us to each discern the different roles we should be playing in the lives of our family, friends, and even the neighbors on our streets. As a result, you may find yourself happily waving back to the neighbor, or providing helpful counsel to your child.

So it’s important to remember: we grow and change, but so does everyone else.

May we continue to go from strength to strength.

09/01/2026

Elul 19/September 1
Rabbi Michael Churgel

In our complicated world, it is often difficult to find or recognize peace: between nations, groups of people, individuals, or even inner peace. But peace does exist, and it is certainly achievable as long as we are willing to put in the work to make it happen.

Members of my congregation recently read The Future is Peace. This fascinating discourse jointly authored by a Palestinian Arab and an Israeli Jew, who both experienced tragedy, loss, and heartbreak in their earlier years, and had every right to hate one another, came together in their desire to make peace and build bridges. Through sharing their personal stories with one another, they were able to forgive sins of the past and gain a better understanding for the other’s actions and that of their respective peoples.

One paragraph that illustrates this lesson was shared by Aziz in his blossoming friendship with a former Israeli soldier:

The walls and the barriers that divide us foment mistrust. They don’t communicate with each other because they are separated from one another. With contact comes understanding, familiarity, and the ability to put ourselves in the shoes of the “other.” I have seen it. I have lived it. That is how I know in my heart that we are not doomed to live this life of polarization.

May each one of us discover new paths towards opening our hearts, finding a way to communicate with the “other,” and building bridges towards peace in our world.

08/31/2026

Elul 18/August 31
Rabbi Daniel Kirzane

The month of Elul prepares us for the coming High Holy Days, which are timed for t’kufat hashanah, “the end of the year” (Exodus 34:22). But what does it really mean for a year to end? The same word appears in Psalm 19, which speaks of the sun’s domain: motzato ut’kufato al k’tzotam, “Its dawning and its ending until the far reaches [of the sky]” (Ps. 19:7). A lovely translation for the t’kufah of the sun might be “turning in,” which reflects our English idiom of “the turning of the year.”

When a year “turns,” it does not disappear. It simply dips out of view. Thus Psalm 19 depicts Nature’s praise of God: “Day to day makes utterance; night to night speaks out” (v. 3). The days and nights speak to one another, suggesting that even time that has “ended” lingers.

So as Elul “turns in” to Rosh Hashanah, we ask: What utterances of this waning year will we hear in the year to come? What lessons will we carry with us, and what memories will enrich our days?

The conclusion of Psalm 19 is also the conclusion of our daily silent prayer. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, Eternal, my rock and my redeemer (v. 15). May our prayers this Elul bring meaning to the year’s end, and may we find in the year ahead acceptance, stability, and renewal.

08/30/2026

Elul 17/August 30
Rabbi Alan Litwak - The Sound of Beginning Again

The shofar is an unusual instrument. It doesn't play a melody. It doesn't entertain. It doesn't even explain itself.

It simply interrupts.

Every morning in Elul, its ancient sound cuts through the noise of our routines. For a brief moment, we are invited to stop living on autopilot and ask a simple question: Who am I becoming?

The beauty of Elul is that it does not demand perfection before Rosh Hashanah arrives. It asks only that we awaken.

One honest apology. One difficult conversation. One generous act. One prayer spoken with greater intention. One habit that moves us a little closer to the person God dreams we can become.

The High Holy Days are not about presenting God with a finished product. They are about presenting ourselves with open hearts and willing spirits.

The shofar reminds us that every ending is also a beginning. Every breath offers another opportunity. Every day of Elul is another chance to turn, to grow, and to come home—to those we love, to our community, and to God.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. The journey of teshuvah begins with a single note.

08/29/2026

Elul 16/August 29
Rabbi Batsheva Appel

Writer and activist Terry Tempest Williams relates that her mother’s dying bequest was her journals, which came with the request that they not be read “until after I'm gone.”

Afterwards, Williams describes finding the clothbound journals neatly filling three shelves exactly where her mother said they would be. Williams hesitated; it seemed to be an invasion of her mother’s privacy, despite her request. Eventually, she made herself a cup of tea and sat down to read, expecting her mother's thoughts about life. She opened the first journal to find out that it was completely blank. In fact, all the journals on those shelves contained only empty pages.

Williams describes that moment as wanting to hear her mother’s voice and only encountering silence.

I remember my sadness for Williams when I first heard this story and my compassion for her mother. Recording our thoughts requires reflection and vulnerability to face the blank pages of a clothbound journal.

“Days are scrolls; write on them what you want to be remembered.” – Bachya ibn Pakuda

At the High Holy Days, God reviews our unique Book of Remembrances, containing all our deeds from the past year, and signed by us. Those pages are never blank. The moments that we remember and the ones that slip by; our successes and our failures; our acts of cruelty and acts of kindness all are recorded. Ibn Pakuda prompts us to consider how we are filling our books as we live our lives, and what will be recorded there.

08/28/2026

Elul 15/August 28
Rabbi Eric Linder

There is a Greek concept called arete. Loosely translated, it means virtue or excellence, but really it's about the constant pursuit of excellence. And that excellence is judged not by looking at others, but only at yourself.

I think Elul is our version of arete.

This month of Elul is the month before the High Holy Days. Tradition tells us to spend it doing cheshbon hanefesh, an accounting of the soul. Each morning, the shofar sounds, not yet in celebration, but rather as a wake-up call. Elul asks us to look at the gap between who we are and who we could be.

It's important to note that Elul does not ask whether you were kinder than your neighbor, more generous than your friend, more patient than the person beside you in traffic. It asks only whether you have moved closer to your own best self than you were a year ago. That is the arete of Elul.

Elul invites us, gently and seriously, to return, to become a little more fully who we already have it in us to be.

So as Elul unfolds, let the shofar reach you. Take your own honest accounting. And begin the slow, worthy work of teshuvah, the return toward your own arete- your own excellence, one day at a time.

Address

1010 Charleston Drive
Tyler, TX
75703

Opening Hours

7pm - 8pm

Telephone

+19035813764

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