At a recent Shabbat service, long time member Jean Gutherie read the special Haftarah portion for Shabbat Shekalim and gave a moving account of a crucial time in the history of Temple Sinai. Here is her message:
Today’s haftarah is found on page 1451 in the Plaut commentary. II Kings 12: 5-16 I will be reading thru verse 13.
The Torah parsha discussed the annual obligation for every Jew to give half a shekel to the Temple coffers. The haftarah discusses the efforts of King Jehoash of Judah (9th Century BCE) to earmark these communal funds for the upkeep of the first Holy Temple, then about 140 years old.
In the haftarah, King Jehoash, a young new king, renewed the people’s covenant with God. He had ascended to be king following the death of his idolatrous grandmother, Athaliah. He destroyed all the pagan altars and statues and appointed officers to oversee the Holy Temple. Then he instructed the priests to appropriate all the funds donated to the Temple and the priests would pay for the regular maintenance of the Temple. After 23 years, King Jehoash noticed that the priests neglected to properly maintain the Temple. He then ordered that all monies be placed in a special box—with a hole in its lid—the first Tzedakah box—located near the Temple altar and these funds were to be given directly to the workers and craftsmen who maintained the Temple.
A message of both the parsha and the haftarah is that Jews in each generation have duties towards the upkeep of the synagogue and other communal causes. Apart from the practical financial benefits this brings, the acceptance of this responsibility has contributed to the inner strength of the Jewish people down through the ages.
In real time, today 2025, we have both the parsha and the haftarah speaking to the need to preserve, repair and maintain our places of worship by regular donation—AKA dues. Dues: that prickly, touchy subject which can conjure grim, negative reactions. But in the life of Temple Sinai, the acceptance of that responsibility gave way to an enormous strength of our congregation.
To explain, join me in a walk back in time—back to Yom Kippur 1980. That day on Yom Kippur 1980 was the first time I attended services at Temple Sinai, invited there by the man who would become my husband, my bashert, Peter, of blessed memory. Temple Sinai on Yom Kippur1980 was not located here on South Glencoe. It was located on East Dartmouth—east down Hampden, left on Tamarac, right on Dartmouth. And on that day, Rabbi Zwerin was tasked to deliver one of his most momentous sermons to date. His sermon that day was titled, “Chicken Little at Temple Sinai.” And he was tasked with telling his very young congregation that their lovely new synagogue that they had inhabited for only 3+-4 years was falling apart.
I will read from the first paragraph of his sermon that day.
“The story I have to tell this morning is as difficult a task as any I’ve ever had. I have not slept well in weeks because of it. I did not ask for the honor of telling it nor do I relish the occasion chosen for its telling. I wanted to be able on this most wonderful of Sabbaths to speak about love, about elections, about Israel, about almost anything else but what I am about to tell you.” (From “Chicken Little at Temple Sinai,” Forty Years of Wondering)
Rabbi Zwerin then proceeded to review for his young congregation their then13-year history—they had just celebrated their congregational Bar/Bat Mitzvah. He reviewed their beginning, their 9 years of worshipping at Plymouth Congregational Church—west down Hampden—that odds makers had predicted they would never make it and that when they started to build their synagogue, they would never finish. But they did—raising funds–$1,000,000 to build their synagogue—$250,000 from sale of some land and a $750,000 mortgage which they were paying off. But shortly after moving into their lovely new synagogue, strange things began to occur: popping sounds during the night, bricks splayed off from their true line, doors out of alignment, repaired, only to be out of alignment 2 weeks later, cracks in the masonry one could see through, small piles of insulation where bricks were out of line, a glass door repaired, only to crack again.
The board of trustees hired a consulting firm to evaluate the building, and the firm announced their determination that the synagogue was falling apart. The architects and engineers who had been in charge of building the synagogue had not accounted for bentonite (an absorbent swelling clay) in the soil which was causing movement of the foundation. The cure? Rabbi Zwerin told the congregation that keeping the synagogue safe for occupation while a lawsuit was proceeding required several corrective procedures with a bill of $650,000. They had to remain in the building before evacuating until the lawsuit went to court. Hence, the building had to be made safe while the congregation still occupied it. During this sermon, you could hear a pin drop. No whispering, no flipping thru the siddur, no sleeping. A grim message. But the congregation went ahead, kept going, united as a community of 300 member families. Winning the lawsuit brought 2.5 million dollars, 1.5 million was used to purchase this property on South Glencoe, then former Pitts Denver public school and one million dollars went toward a new sanctuary. Attorney congregants led the lawsuit. Another congregant, Ed Pepper, managed the purchase of Pitts School. When they eventually evacuated and moved to Pitts, January 1, 1984, the congregation with cars, trucks—anything with 4 wheels—loaded everything that could be wrested from the building—furniture, office equipment, kitchen equipment, books, carpeting, bathroom fixtures and trucked it here to this property, the former Pitts Denver public school. The offices, sanctuary, religious school and preschool were housed in the school while a new sanctuary was being built. BTW: by the time they left the old building, they had paid off their mortgage of $750,000 AND the bill of $650,000 to keep the synagogue safe. The membership of 300-member families throughout all of this remained stable; intact. There was not a loss of membership.
Rabbi Zwerin’s last paragraph of his sermon that day in 1980 follows. And I quote: “And now, already, let me conclude this by letting you in on a personal observation. What makes us great as a people is our ability to master challenge. We will meet this test and we will emerge from it mature in our self-esteem, committed and united as a congregation, and respected almost with awe by the 45,000 Jews in Denver who aren’t fortunate enough to be members of Sinai. What’s more, we will also by this, show our children that lip service to an idea, to a dream, to a people is not enough. They will see our efforts and our dedication, make no mistake about that. They and we will measure and be measured by how we meet our test.” (From “Chicken Little at Temple Sinai,” Forty Years of Wondering)
Our brother and sister congregants of 45 years ago did not only maintain and repair their synagogue; they kept it alive. They handed on to us a beautiful space—and a legacy of spirit, community, giving and dedication. The stained-glass window above our entry designed by Helen Ginsburg, a congregant at that time—and she still is—incorporates the Hebrew phrase “v’ha-sneh ayno ookal; and the bush was not consumed.”