In my first ever president’s message, I shared a story about picking up our youngest from her very first week at Jewish overnight camp. She stepped off the bus with sparkly eyes, arms outstretched, and a heart full of new friendships. When we asked what camp was like, she declared: “We have to go to Israel!” and “There was A LOT of dancing.”
That phrase—“a lot of dancing”—has stayed with me throughout these past two years. It was more than a camp report. It was a metaphor for joy, for movement, for community. As I reflect on my time serving as President of Temple Beth Tikvah, I return to that image often.
From the start of my term, I invited us all to take up space on the dance floor. To trust that room would be made as we moved into it. And you did. Whether through prayer, study, celebration, social action, or the quiet work of showing up—you stepped out.
We gathered in song and spirit for the High Holy Days, guided by Rabbi Johanna’s deep wisdom in my first year and Rabbi Sara’s joyful and thoughtful leadership in the second.
We danced in joy during holidays, at Ladies’ Lunch and Vindaloo with the Jews, and with our children and teens as they built connections and memories in the Community School and youth programs.
We wrestled with difficult questions after the horrifying events of October 7th and felt the need even more for a connected community in the days, weeks, and months that followed. We served with compassion through Tikkun Olam. We supported each other through life’s transitions, and we celebrated simchas large and small.
All year long, together we create a sacred rhythm—a choreography of community. It hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been meaningful.
As I prepare to hand the leadership baton to the next President, Ginger Weeden, I do so with a heart full of gratitude and awe. It has been an honor to serve this vibrant, resilient, dancing community.
To echo my daughter’s words one last time: There IS a lot of dancing. May we keep dancing—sometimes in joyful exuberance, sometimes with steady grace, but always, always together.
L’Shalom,
Cere