In their commentaries on today’s special Haftorah, the Rabbis (in their Yalkut) tell us of the following imaginary yet very real conversation: ר' חנינא בר פפא אמר, אמרו ישראל לישעיהו: ישעיהו רבינו תאמר שלא באת לנחם אלא לאותו הדור שחרב בהמ"ק בימיו? אמר להם, לכל הדורות באתי לנחם. "אמר אלוקיכם" אין כתיב כאן אלא "יאמר אלוקיכם." Israel said to Isaiah: Isaiah, our Teacher, would you say that your consolations were directed only to that generation in whose days the Temple was destroyed? Said Isaiah to them: No, I have come to console all the generations. For it is not written, “comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, said your God,” but it says “comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, sayeth (or: will say) your God.” Consolation, then, is not an act in isolation. It is a process, and it applies not only to one specific time, but it is relevant to all times. It is therefore worth pondering: what does this subtle yet powerful psychological transformation consist of? What are the mechanics of this profound personal redemption which we call nechama?I ask this not only as an abstract or rhetorical question. There are practical consequences. People are caught up in the depths of despair and grief. What should or can consolation mean to them? Or, the menachamim, those who go to console the mourners: very often they are at a loss, they do not know how to translate their good wishes into acceptable words. That is why they often do the wrong thing, why the task of offering condolences is often so difficult, why otherwise intelligent people are frequently reduced to silly prattle. Furthermore, in the history of our people we are the great Generation of Nechamah. We are the generation that has gone from the depths of Auschwitz to the heights of the State of Israel. We have experienced consolation. Therefore, it behooves us to understand it, so that we can better understand ourselves and the times in which we live. The answer to our question, the key to the nature of this phenomenon called cons…

This is my third installation of a Rabbi at TJC – a professional “אינסטלונג”... [Little did I imagine, when I first mounted this pulpit as the new Associate Rabbi, that 42 years later I would be installing my third successor.] I installed my immediate successor, the late and unforgettable Rabbi Isaac Bernstein; no one seems to remember if Rabbi J. J. Schacter was officially installed – probably not; and now I am here to install Rabbi Ari Berman as the new Rabbi of TJC. Of the three, I knew him longest at the time of installation – gave him סמיכה, appointed him to teach Talmud at YU, mentored him – and learned from him. And I cherish him. Inducting a new Rabbi gives me the opportunity to discuss relations Rabbi–Congregation. First, together they must effect the delicate balance of Tradition and Change. TJC at 2000 – ATJC year founded or ’58 when I came here or ’76 when I left – life changes, society changes, and our reaction to them must change. But it must not be change for the sake of change; the change must come without flippancy or arbitrariness. Respect TJC traditions – without the dead hand of the past acting as a brake on the present and the future [stifling our creativity and imagination]... (No interpreting these remarks re: TOP HATS... too delicate and explosive a topic...) Rabbi – must give his full attention and loyalty to his people. Only afterwards must he turn to the larger concerns of the American–Jewish community. And Congregation – allow your Rabbi to expand his horizons; [let him use this pulpit as a bully pulpit to benefit all American and world Jewry], and don’t overburden the Rabbi with trivia. Time to learn – without it a man cannot be a רב. You and your children will be the beneficiaries. I tread on dangerous ground: CRITICISM. I tell young Rabbis: No matter how much you resent... aggravating... distressing... people will criticize you: you greeted Mr. A and not Mr. B; the length of שמ״ע; when you put the tallis over your head; how much you g…