Celebrate Dorshei Derekh Turning 40 on Sat, October 31, 2026

 

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Farewell to Donald Joseph z"l

Donald on Purim, as another Donald.
Photo courtesy of Barb Pearson

Betsy Teutsch, for GJC Centre Call

Donald Joseph z”l was a beloved Dorshei Derekh member for over 35 years, attending most every week and sitting in the front row--except for summers in Maine. He passed away this past April after a long decline. We send heartfelt condolences to Harriet, Rachel and Aden, Seth and Bonnie.

Over the decades, Donald loved Dorshei Derekh openly and expansively. He filled many roles in our minyan, both formal (longtime Treasurer, Membership Co-Chair, and Stefan Presser Social Justice Shabbat Chair), as well as informal, as a befriender and mentor.

Deborah Weinstein shared a COVID-era email correspondence with Donald, when she and Dick joined Dorshei Derekh:

“Welcome to Dorshei Derekh, where spirit, singing, intellect and community join in a single wonderful minyan.”

In the wider world, Donald’s first passion was teaching, though he spent many years lawyering at Wolf Block. We were around as he shared his exhilarating transition to teaching law school. Donald generously offered his legal skills to many. Ruth Loew, an Elkins Park neighbor, recalls how he “was always happy to help our kids find resources for school projects involving the legal system.” Indeed, their son Gabe joined Donald in the legal profession.

Donald was fiercely committed to correcting PA’s school funding inequity, chiefly through his 30-year Board service to Public Interest Law Center (PILC). He invited us all to City Hall when PILC announced the victorious results of the interminable case, at last declaring the Pennsylvania educational funding formula unconstitutional.

Unbeknownst to many of us, Donald was actually a mathematician, having done his undergraduate degree at MIT. This came out in his annual birthday davar torah and kiddush, when he divulged his age in a complex sequence of factors of prime numbers. Leah Weisman fondly remembers Donald recruiting her to lead chanting services for birthday celebrations.

He loved singing (loudly), and urged others to join him up front. Naomi Klayman noted his vocal leadership. She was inspired to take voice lessons in part to, as Shelichat Tsibur, better lead Dorshei Derekh in the key SHE picked.  “After three voice lessons, at the age of 68, I discovered a singing voice that I never knew that I had. I attribute that discovery largely to Donald’s enthusiastic participation in our services each Shabbat. He is deeply missed!”

When our cherished Dorshei Derekh member Stefan Presser was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor and could no longer work, Donald organized us (pre-internet!) to visit Stefan for lunches and visits. For fifteen years after Stefan’s untimely death, Donald headed up the committee planning the annual Stefan Presser Social Justice shabbat. The Stefan Presser topics had a big impact on the Dorshei Derekh community, and on the bigger GJC community, as well.

Do you recall Donald’s personal, over-stuffed copy of our Siddur, Kol Haneshamah? One of the artifacts in it was a thank-you from our daughter Nomi, for her bat mitzvah gift. “Thank you Donald for the [whatever it was], and for smiling at me every shabbat!” He always went out of his way to reach out to others.

Donald enjoyed meeting up with fellow Dorshei Derekh members over lunch. Nina Israel and he forged a strong friendship over many such get-togethers. “What an amazing characteristic Donald had to make each person seen and heard…. He made me more self-aware. Who does that? Donald’s explanation was, ‘Well, I have spent more money on therapy than most people do for graduate school.’” Nina was very devoted to visiting Donald when he was incapacitated, seeing him frequently through his last years.

Donald took Heather Shafter under his wing and we are all the better for it - she just joined GJC’s Executive Committee. 

In Heather’s own words, “When I started attending Shabbat services, Donald always invited me to sit next to him. He told me that the closer you are to the front, the more ruach you get. He explained we would get more holiness at the front! I was down for that, so we sat in the front row together from that point forward. 

“Not even a year into my membership at Dorshei Derekh, Dayle Friedman asked me if I would be the Membership Coordinator. I was honored to be asked, but I’ve never been good at doing things on a schedule. I told her I would need a co-coordinator to make sure I did my job. So Donald became my co-coordinator. He told me, ‘I know how to make the trains run on time.’ He had many opinions about what the communications and reports should look like, and what other things we should be doing as membership co-coordinators, but he also allowed me the majority vote. 

“During the pandemic, Donald and I decided to talk on the phone every Saturday after Dorshei Derekh’s Zoom service. This is when we really got to know each other. I learned from Donald about Mussar, and how it can help improve not only my personal experience, but also my most important relationships. Donald became one of my closest friends. I would not have anticipated that, and I was grateful for it.”

Farewell, Donald. Your memory is absolutely a blessing.

Parshat Korach: How To Move Through Conflict - Rabbi Beth Janus

How to Move Through Conflict - Parshat Korach
Rabbi Beth Janus

June 17, 2026

A rebel seeks to overthrow the leader. He gathers 250 people and foments an uprising. A struggle ensues between the current leader and the newly formed militia and God is called on to decide the outcome of the battle. God opens the earth, and the earth swallows the rebel and the 250 people who sided with him.

There are many questions in this week’s Torah portion. Why did Korach (the rebel) revolt against Moses (the leader)? Korach was a Levite, which was the tribe with a special role in the Israelite community. The Levites set up and transported the Tabernacle in the desert and later served the priests in the holy Temple in Jerusalem. Korach resented that Moses was closer to God than he was, even though Korach was higher in the hierarchy than the majority of Israelites. Korach, speaking to Moses, exclaims, “You have gone too far!” Korach comes to Moses in anger, and he does not come alone. He approaches Moses with 250 men. Korach could have come to Moses to discuss, debate, or even complain about whatever grievances Korach truly had. But instead, he formed an aggressive mob. He did not want to hash out the issues. Korach was hostile. This episode is a lesson in what not to do when one has a conflict with someone in a community.

In America today, we also do not know how to have healthy conflicts. Political violence is rampant and many personal relationships are fraught. We are a nation with strife that is not getting resolved. Unfortunately, this is mirrored within our Jewish community. We have authentic differences about the direction of America and its current leadership, and we have painful disputes about Israel – often within our own families. We tend to see the ‘other side’ as morally inferior, or even dangerous. The left thinks that Israel has lost its moral compass, and that Israel may collapse because it’s losing its identity as a ‘light among the nations’. The right believes that the left are naive and if they were in power, Israel would be destroyed by its many enemies. The stakes are seen as existential.

At J Street we pride ourselves in having rich discussions about Israel. Perhaps because we have people to the right and to the left of us within the Jewish community, we are able to see the full spectrum of beliefs. We can be a bridge between sides. We talk about the conflict with the Palestinians. We debate the war with Iran and Lebanon. We do not avoid the complexities and pain. We do this by listening and understanding each other’s viewpoints – especially when they differ from our own. We do this within the J Street community, because we are not a monolith, and we do this with Jews who are not aligned with us politically. Recently I led several workshops with psychologist Dr. Richard Stern about how to listen to other Jews’ beliefs around Israel. We practiced deep listening without trying to change people’s minds. We sought to understand rather than convince. We sought empathy rather than enmity. We pursued connection and relationship through our disagreements.

These conflicts are damaging our community. But thankfully Judaism gives us endless examples of how to have debates in a healthy way. In a few weeks we will read about the daughters of Zelophehad. The five daughters oppose the law that only sons can inherit land. Since their father does not have sons, his land would be lost to his only children. So what do they do? The daughters go to Moses and share their complaint. They do not go in anger. They do not go with a mob. They express what is on their hearts. And Moses listens. He consults God, and God changes the law. So as we read this parsha, let us be inspired to truly listen and come together through our profound differences. Let us repair the fractures within the Jewish community through sincere dialogue. Let us reach out to those with whom we disagree – before these conflicts swallow us whole.

Rabbi Beth Janus is the immediate past president of the Board of Rabbis of Greater Philadelphia. She is involved with J Street nationally and locally. She works at Lafayette Redeemer, teaches and conducts life cycle ceremonies in the Philadelphia community.

2025 Dorshei Derekh Tzedakah Gifts

This year, our team headed by Lynne Jacobs, and joined by Jennifer Paget and Betsy Teutsch, called for recommendations. We are giving to 8 different organizations. 

Our mandate is to give 10-20% of our cash on hand, and this is 20%.

With a $3000 budget we allocated $375 each to 8 grantee organizations, including 2 local volunteer efforts:

 

American Friends of Combatants for Peace

Combatants for Peace (CfP) is a joint Palestinian-Israeli community-- guided by the values of nonviolent resistance—that works in solidarity to end the occupation, discrimination, and oppression of all people living on this land.  A diverse community of U.S. and international activists works in solidarity with CfP to raise awareness and resources, build community, and take direct action to advance the work of CfP for a just peace in Israel and Palestine.  (Several Dorshei members involved with the Philly Chapter.)  www.afcfp.org

 

 

American Friends of Standing Together 

Standing Together is the largest Jewish-Arab grassroots movement mobilizing Jews and Palestinians in pursuit of peace, equality, and social and climate justice.  Supporters of Standing Together are building solidarity with the grassroots work of Standing Together in pursuit of peace, equality, and social and climate justice in Israel-Palestine.  (DD supporters)  www.standing-together.org/fostgroups

 

 

Germantown Community Fridge

Fights hunger and food insecurity.  Provides free, supplemental food in Germantown, Philadelphia. Stocked by the community, for the community, anyone who needs food is welcome to take it. (DD/GJC supporters)

www.germantowncommunityfridge.com

 

GJC Refugee Welcoming Team c/o Fed. of Neighborhood Centers

For local work with various refugees.  (many DD/GJC volunteers)

 

 

IsraAID Emergency Response Fund

IsraAID uses its unique position, trusted by Israeli authorities, to help vetted international aid

groups coordinate with the Israeli government and military to secure permits and safe passage for aid deliveries to Gaza.  (Strongly supported by Simkha W, who urges everyone to learn more about it!)

www.israaid.org

 

Juntos

Juntos is a community-led, Latine, immigrant organization in South Philadelphia fighting for our human rights as workers, parents, youth, and immigrants.  (Elyse W and Nancy K have direct connections.)

www.vamosjuntos.org

 

 

New Israel Fund

The New Israel Fund (NIF) helps Israel live up to its founders’ vision of a society that ensures complete equality to all its inhabitants. Our aim is to advance liberal democracy, including freedom of speech and minority rights, and to fight the inequality, injustice and extremism that diminish Israel.  (Many DD supporters)

www.nif.org

 

World Central Kitchen

WCK has created a new model for disaster relief helping devastated communities recover.  In particular, chefs and cooks provide emergency food relief, serving freshly made meals to people affected by war and climate crises. (Many DD supporters)  www.wck.org

Filmmaker Jeremy Sarachan Features Dorshei Derekh

Facing the filmmaker - Reena, Jane, Betsy, Avruhm, Bobbi, George

Last summer an intriguing email landed in my in-box, from a filmmaker. Jeremy Sarachan, a Rochester-based professor, explained: “While on Sabbatical this fall, I hope to visit several synagogues throughout the United States to capture the spirituality and community associated with Reconstructionist Judaism.” He added that while he happily attends a Reform congregation, he identifies as a Reconstructionist, making this project a voyage of self-discovery.

We were pleased to be included in his travels. The Delaware Valley is rich ground for such a project, given the presence of RRC, numerous Reconstructionist communities, including Minyan Dorshei Derekh, and scores of RRC-ordained rabbis. Filming on shabbat was not an option, so we planned a Havdalah get-together on December 6^th. Jeremy first joined us at shabbat services, chatted with attendees over kiddush, and decided to not just film the Havdalah ritual, lead by Rabbi Malkah Binah Klein, but also to capture a discussion amongst us.

If you’ve seen one Reconstructionist community, you’ve seen one Reconstructionist community. There are many hallmarks of our movement; uniformity is not one of them. Jeremy was surprised at the amount of Hebrew in our service, as well as the level of literacy. The presence of a dozen+ rabbis in our midst contributes to that, and also helps attract Jewishly literate lay Jews.

Rabbi Tamara Cohen pointed out, at Havdalah, that while Reconstructionists make distinctions, we don’t privilege one distinction over another. We eliminate the traditional phrase marking the difference between Israel and all the other peoples. We note the difference between the sacred and the everyday, and appreciate both.

We reconvened in a circle, naturally, and responded to the prompts Jeremy provided. Reflects Rabbi George Stern, “Most exciting for me was the opportunity to listen both to Dorshei members with much more background about our minyan than I and to newer members who provided new insights. The conversation revived my enthusiasm about our wonderful minyan and its devoted and caring members.” We mentioned that our Chesed Committee has been very active, in response to our minyan aging in place and more people needing healing prayers and active support. Jeremy noted the high level of compassion echoing through our service.

Many expressed how impactful the Reconstructionist Prayerbook, Kol Haneshamah (many of its creators attend our minyan, as does the editor-in-chief, Rabbi David Teutsch) is on their prayer experience, providing so many different appellations for God, as well as its inspiring commentary and beautiful poetry.

Dick Goldberg, a newer member, was struck by “the depth and richness that exist within our minyan—depth of Jewish knowledge, of commitment to engaging with the world, of genuine compassion, and of inclusivity, as we genuinely believe that all are created in the image of God; and richness when it comes to the different Jewish paths that have brought us together, variety of life experience, and unique ways of being in the world.”

We are very proud of the role Mark Pinsky plays at RRC, where he serves as Treasurer of the Board. He and Jennifer were introduced to Dorshei Derekh by his colleague Adina Abramowitz z”l and have become pillars of our minyan. Mark’s takeaway: “We don’t usually sit around talking about Reconstructionism, so it was fascinating and uplifting to spend a few hours listening to a cross section of Dorshei Derekh. We discussed what makes it meaningful to us and what we appreciate about our community. It felt like an affirmation of the choices Dorshei has made over the decades.”

People treasure the variety of styles and approaches that change weekly. I observed how rarely a member assigned a task had not made it to shul. Maybe a half dozen times in the nearly forty years I have been attending? That’s barely once a decade! We are very committed to one another; people show up.

We are, of course, excited to see how many of our exchanges make the cut and appear in Jeremy’s film. Regardless, as Debbie Weinstein points out, “the film shoot provided us with the additional benefit of a wonderful opportunity for us to share amongst ourselves our appreciation for the Dorshei Derekh Minyan community.”

Thanks, Jeremy! We are excited about your film. Thanks for helping us see ourselves in a new light.

Dorshei Derekh's Trifold Brochure

Dick Goldberg's Davar Torah - Bereshit

Let There Be Light

Shabbat shalom. I am Dick Goldberg— and I have a suggestion for you.
If you are considering offering a d’var here at minyan Dorshei Derekh, sign up well in advance.
Not just because Rabbi Debrah Cohen, who manages the list of darshanim, would appreciate that but also...

Because it can mean, as it happened with me in connection with this d’var, you really get to mull.
You know, we often think of mulling as making things thick or cloudy— as in mulled cider or wine.
I’m talking about mulling that leads to clarity. Hold on to that: clarity.

Indeed, once I signed up to talk about B’reishit, I found myself awash in ideas about “In the beginning.”

How important beginnings are.
How exciting they can be. The day you are born. Which is to say, the day the whole world is born for you. Your first word. Your first step.
Think of all the promise inherent in those beginnings.
But beginnings can also be frightening. Your first day of school, your first day of a new job, the wedding night.
How the seeds that will grow into the full blossom can be there— there at the beginning.
I thought about the parshah on long walks, in the shower—I do my best thinking in water—pools, tubs, lakes and oceans, that sort of thing.

I thought about the parshah during our services—yes, while others are talking or praying.
When I rose up and when I lay down.
And then it came to me... I didn’t want to talk about “iIn the beginning.” I didn’t want to talk about the first thing God did—create heaven and earth.
I wanted to talk about what came next: “Let there be light.”

That I think is the primary advantage of mulling—reflection— it has the potential to get you where you need to go.
A process in which you fire up the synapses in your brain, shed some internal light on what you have within, and get not necessarily where you thought you would end up.
A process that is infused not only with creativity but also with light, and which led me to...

“Let there be light.” As I said earlier, clarity.

Think about it. When God began to create heaven and earth— the earth being unformed and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep—let’s stop there.

Unformed, void, darkness, deep, I think you could say both impossibly frightening and unfathomable.
I can just imagine God—surveying so much dark nothingness — saying to themself, “Geeze, Louise, what am I going to do about this?”
Sit here and mope? Curse the darkness? Give up on this whole enterprise?

No, instead, they said, “Let there be light.”
Never mind, why was God talking to themself—and no, I don’t buy that they were talking to angels as some would have it.

No. I think God looked at the situation to the extent that they could see in all that darkness and recognized this as a problem. A big one.

And what does God—or the magnificence of the universe—which is how I view god—do? What do they do to fill in that emptiness?

Call forth light... enabling vision.
Create light... which fosters the aforementioned clarity.
Give us light... which is the difference between night and day.
Devise light... that reveals magnificence—magnificence— which not only is my word for:

1. What God is— but also

2. The process God undertakes for the next week and ever after, as well as

3. What God calls into being:

The magnificence of the separation of the waters,

The magnificence of the creation of the sky, the magnificence of the gathering of land, vegetation, fruit, the advent of time, the sun and the stars, humanity—magnificence indeed (actually, I’m not so sure about humanity).

I like the way our own Rabbi Sheila Weinberg captures this magnificence in a passage we recite almost every Shabbat:

“Who are holy beings?
They are beloved, clear of mind, and courageous.
Their will and God’s are one.
Raising their voices in constant gratitude, they marvel at every detail of life.
Granting each other loving permission to be exactly who they are.
When we listen for their sweet voices, we can hear the echo within our own souls....”

Isn’t that delicious?

I can just see God after creating the world and all that dwells within, well, beaming with... De-light. Pun intended.

Consider: where would be without light?
Unable to see for those of us fortunate enough to be sighted —unable to see and fully appreciate the magnificence.
But—and this is even more important, without the internal light—the light within...
Lost. Unenlightened—as in uneducated and unevolved.
Sad. With a permanent case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. Morose.

---
Part two. Another key aspect of my exploration of the parshah usually is to see whether I have a personal connection to it.

If I’m going to speak about it, does it speak—or has it already—spoken to me?
Do I have a personal connection to “Let there be light?”
Oy!

Here it is:

In 1958, when I was 11 and living with my family in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, we trekked to Philadelphia for our annual summer visit to see my grandmother and other family here.
We got off the train—yes, the train— at the North Philadelphia Train Station at Broad and Glenwood and eventually made our way to Atlantic City.
To the boardwalk.

Where a very chubby, stage-struck pre-teen boy was taken to see “Dancing Waters” – a sound, water, and light show. Swaying and yes— dancing fountains of water moved to music—probably something shmaltzy like Strauss waltzes— as rainbowed colored lights—lights—kissed the delicate sprays emanating from the stage floor, fly space and wings.

It was gorgeous. It was thrilling. It was kitsch. And I loved it. Every kitschy minute.

So much so that when I returned to Winston-Salem and started trying to figure out how I was going to raise spending money for camp—I went to Camp Blue Star, where a lot of bourgeois Jewish kids in the south went—I decided that I would create my own Dancing Waters show, charge folks to attend, and use the resulting proceeds to buy my stash of sodas, candy bars and comic books.

I decided that in my version of the show I would substitute narration for music.

What should be my text? Genesis! I was planning on inviting the rabbi and figured he’d love it. I was also at that time—age 11—fantasizing about becoming a rabbi, but that’s another story for another time.

Flash forward to opening night.

Our backyard was rigged with hoses connected to spigots.
The hoses snaked this way and that. Y splitters allowed for more hoses. Some were draped over tree limbs, bushes and lawn furniture, ending in sprinklers, nozzles, and sprayers.
I was stationed, seated in my bathing suit, behind a two-foot high plywood barrier so that the audience wouldn’t see the narrator—I would be... A “disembodied voice.”
My bible was on my lap, open to B’reishit—in English-- covered by Saran Wrap to keep the pages from getting wet.
The stage crew took their positions at the aforementioned spigots—my mother at the backyard spigot, my father in the front, my sister at the outdoor light panel.
My sister turned off the patio lights, plunging into darkness the area where the rabbi and other audience members were seated facing the backyard, where I and all my paraphernalia were.
...the audience chatter ceased.

I waited a long dramatic moment then intoned, “In the beginning...” And my mother turned on her spigot. A delicate spray of droplets arose from a perforated hose on the ground.

And as the waters swayed and danced, I continued: “God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the spirit of God was hovering over the waters.”

And God said, “Let there be light!”
Another dramatic pause. The proverbial calm before the storm....
“Let there be light” I said again.
The audience’s eagerness to see how light would manifest itself as water was palpable.
“Let there be light” I repeated, a hint of concern creeping into my voice.

And... And... And we all just sat there. Fidgeting. Nervously.
Nada. Not a drop. Nothing.
Then finally my mother yelled, “Milton, let there be light!”

My dad finally heard, turned on his spigot, the water raced through the hose— and the sprinklers dangling above my head came alive, spinning, swirling, and yes, dancing!
My sister flipped on the backyard lights for the full effect.

Showtime!

And in that very moment, I bagged the idea of becoming a rabbi and decided I need to pursue a life in the theatre.

All because of light. And the very dramatic, very unexpected way it had almost not—then manifested itself in my show.
Which is to say, my creation. My beginning.

I’ll leave it to the Freudian and other therapists in the room to sort out the absent, unhearing impotent father; the dominating, powerful mother who comes to the rescue, and the other Oedipal dimensions of the story.

The point for me was that the manifestation of light—preceded by a grace note of anxiety-ridden inaction— was climactic, transformative, and life-changing....
"But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? / it is the east, and Juliet is the sun.” Light is love.
"How far that little candle throws his beams!/ So shines a good deed in a naughty world” says Portia in The Merchant of Venice. Light is goodness.
“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness,” said Desmond Tutu. Light is hope.
“I will hold you in the light,” say our Quaker friends. In your time of need, I will call God's love, wisdom, and peace to surround you. Light is empowering, nurturing, and wonderfully, wonderfully good.

We get that from our tradition too—that wonderful connection between light and goodness. What does it say after each of their creations? “And God saw that it was good.”

And once all is complete, what does God say? “It is very good.” When you have many things, each saying a variation of the same essence in its own way, and they’re all in harmony, then it’s beautiful, very good. The ultimate light.

The biblical scholar and noted translator rabbi Nachum Sarna—who several of us in this room encountered at Brandeis— wrote that “light banishes the ancient pagan notion of inherent, primordial evil, a cosmos built on a mythological brew of fates and evil forces. In the biblical view, creation” he said, “is infused with divine goodness.”
The Lubavitcher rebbe— Menachem Mendel Schneerson — goes one step further, proposing that God means both light and darkness have the potential for goodness. “All the world — even the darkness — should become a source of light and wisdom,” He said.

In our tradition, rather than the physical light from celestial bodies, the initial light on the first day is seen as the fundamental energy from which all matter and energy—including the later-created sun, moon, and stars—would form. The force that in my lexicon is itself God.

You might also think of light as fairy or pixie dust— the magical, glittering substance used by Tinker Bell to achieve flight for herself and Peter and Wendy. Because indeed, light is also magic.

This light that God calls forth is primordial light, incredibly powerful, universe-filling light. And what does our tradition call on us to do?

Sit there and enjoy the show?
No, bring more light into the world by performing mitzvot.
Indeed, we are commanded to do that. The word "mitzvah" comes from the root "Tzav," meaning "to command".

Rashi, in his commentary on the Talmud says that “Without light, there can be no peace.” Light also enables peace.
Indeed, the creation of light, as part of the creation of the world, in our tradition, is considered to be a continuous process, renewed daily.
Every day god bestows light on the world and its inhabitants.

It’s there. A truly renewable source of energy. And we certainly need as much light as we can get in these dark times, no?

Light. Not kings.

But what do we do with that light? That is the question....

What do we do with that light?

Indeed, that’s the last of the three I’d like you to discuss:

The first two being:

What is light to you?

Then... Where do you need more light?

And then...

What are you doing with yours?

1. What is light to you?

2. Where do you need more?

3. What are you doing with yours?