Gifts. We give them for many occasions. Weddings, B’nai Mitzvah, graduations, birthdays and anniversaries, all occasion the giving of a gift. Even when we are invited to someone’s house, a “bread and butter” gift, a bottle of wine or flowers, is often presented.
These things are just ingrained in the society.

Rarely, though, do we think of the true nature of a “gift.” When my grandmother was alive, she would give me money, but she always had a statement to go with it. She would tell me, “Buy something that you want, but make it something that will remind you of me.” To this day I have an electric shoe polisher that was purchased with money she had given me. I cannot polish my shoes without recalling the many fond memories of my grandmother with which I am blessed. Her gifts to me are not only a remembrance of her, they bring a sweetness to my soul.
Some of the art work that adorns the walls of my home were gifts. I find it interesting that I remember the occasion when each of them was given, who gave us each one, and something about the artist as well. Clearly, a gift can be a powerful thing.

Even when I look around TBS, I notice the Torah covers that were given in memory of someone dear. Every Saturday morning I look inside the Plaut Torah Commentary, at the book plate, to see which one I randomly picked up. Was it one of the books that Jan Fawcett and Katie Busch gave in memory of relatives and teachers, or was it one of the books that Steve Hochberg donated in memory of his brother? Somehow, there is comfort in this little ritual. When I turn on the sound system for services, I think of the donors whose generosity made the new (reliable) equipment possible, without feeling less thankful for the original speakers in the rafters, gifts of Matthew Schwartzman (z”l). Every time I see someone use the hearing devices in the sanctuary, I am reminded of Jeanne Simonoff’s donation in memory of her mother which made them possible.

Yet, there is a gift which this congregation has given, virtually anonymously, of enormous power. That gift is the gift of human dignity. As I was leaving the office last Friday afternoon, I saw a woman walking toward the sanctuary. She was not a member of the congregation, but she was walking confidently toward her destination. I said hello to her, and then saw the empty shopping bag in her arms. She was not coming to pray, she was coming to shop in our hallway. She knew that she would be welcome, and I knew that she would take only what she needed.

In this quiet way we, as a congregation, helped enable someone to live with dignity in our community. The little donations that we bring on Friday nights or during the week for our food collection make a difference in Santa Fe and thereby in the world. I do not know her name, I do not need to. I do know that we have given her a gift each time that she has come by, and it is a gift which is appreciated and will be remembered.
Thank you for all that you do to make the world warmer, friendlier and kinder.