Erev Rosh Hashanah
HINENI
Rabbi Philip Weintraub
September 11, 2026
Before beginning this evening, on the 25th anniversary of the September 11 murderous terrorist attacks, I’d like to pause here for a moment of silence.
Hineni, I am here. Those words are in our Torah reading on Sunday. I hear them in the sound of the shofar. They are in the actions of those who participate in the hevre kadisha, in those who show up for minyan, in those who support our community and all holy communities, year in and year out. Hineni is demonstrated by those who make a Shabbat dinner and invite someone who doesn’t get out much, or covers the cost so someone else can join our shul dinners. It is found when we dance at a wedding or lift a bat mitzvah girl in a chair during the simcha dancing. It is also found when we go to a shiva house or a funeral.
Side note, real question: What is the most ridiculous thing someone said to you when you were upset? It could be at a shiva house or after you heard tragic news?
Now another question, raise your hands, how many of us have tried to comfort someone and completely put our foot in our mouths?
(If there is anyone not raising their hand, more power to you! I know I say something ridiculous at least once a day--just ask my children.)
I once met a rabbi who had served his shul for decades. He was a survivor of the Shoah, showed incredible devotion to his community, studied Torah regularly, AND had a way of making absolutely everything about himself. You had a bad day, well his day was horrible. You got a papercut, well he had a whole piece of lumber in his foot. We all know people like this. If he wasn’t talking about what hurt, he was talking about how wonderful he was, how talented he was, how amazing. Every conversation with him was absolutely painful (at least, for me). Yet, what I found was that he was beloved by his community. He had one eulogy, which said nothing about the deceased, and was repeated at every funeral. I was incredibly confused. How could this self-centered individual have such a positive reputation?
He showed up. When people were ill, he went to the hospital. He did not just arrange for a shiva minyan, but attended every night and every morning. He was known for driving 90 minutes out into the middle of nowhere to check in on someone who couldn’t get to shul anymore. When he got there, he only talked about himself, but that’s not what people remembered. They remembered that he came.
Hineni.
Rabbi Amy Grossblatt Pessah shared a story:
At a recent social event, a good friend and I shared how shocked and saddened we were by the sudden death of our mutual friend. He asked me how I would respond to a person who has just experienced the tragic loss of their spouse. “It’s just so hard to know what to do,” he said.
I listened quietly as he shared this challenge—not knowing exactly what to say in those moments when we want to offer comfort. And then I responded,
“Here is what I won’t be saying…I won’t say:
‘Your spouse is now in a better place.’
Or ‘It must have been his time.’
Or ‘God only gives you what you can handle.’
Or ‘At least he didn’t suffer.’
I will let our friend know that she will not be alone and that I will accompany her on this sad and tragic road.”
I continued, “It is actually all we can do for each other. We can’t make it better, but we can make sure we show up. I will say Hineni, here I am.”
It would be amazing if there were magic words that could relieve pain. Words that are inspiring to one person can be painful to another. Visions of God and theology that bring peace to one individual can be shockingly upsetting to another. (Trust me, I’ve learned that the hard way!)
As we enter the next ten days and the ten days after that and the ten days after we find times that are truly sacred for our people. They are times for us to reflect on who we are, how we act, and what we hope to do and be in the coming year(s).
Most of all, they are opportunities to show up for one another. They are times when we can show up in shul, show up for a meal, make a phone call or write an actual, handwritten letter to someone we care about. We can try to reconnect with someone we’ve lost touch with or try to make peace with someone we’ve upset. Not every relationship needs repairing. We can also thank those who show up for us. We can give a hug to the ones we love.
Rabbi Nina Beth Cardin elaborates on the power of “Hineni…a spontaneous, unequivocal commitment promising: ‘I am here,’ where and as you found me, fully attentive, focused, all in. And even more, ‘I am here’—all of me, with all that I am and all that I can be. ‘Hineni’ is a response of sacred and undiluted presence.
I know that I’m running out of attention span. Our ability to be truly present is far shorter than it once was! As we go into this celebration of Shabbat and Rosh Hashanah, I pray that we can find our sacred presence. I pray that in bringing our whole selves to the ones we love, we can feel the presence of the Holy One. I pray that our prayers, our songs, our hopes and our dreams fill this beautiful sanctuary. I pray that our collective presence lifts those prayers to the heavens, tears down the gates and brings us to the Holy One. I pray that by saying Hineni here, to one another, to ourselves and to God, we can truly make a difference in all of those lives this year.
I pray for a year of true peace, of love, of compassion, of kindness, of joy, and most of all, of presence. Hineni. I am here. I hope you are, too!
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