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December 26, 2025 - Copilot Some Attempts at Jewish Humor on AI by Guest Writer Craig Bassett
Dear Friends, Rabbi Strom is in Israel this Shabbat, so we are pleased to welcome Rabbi Jaymee Alpert back to the synagogue to fill in for him. In place of the rabbi's usual article, once again, I turned to AI (Microsoft Copilot) for some short humorous stories and Drashot (deeper meanings) that are fitting for the Shabbat before the secular New Year. Hopefully, they will make you smile and give you something to think about. Last, on a personal note, I would like to thank everyone who called or stopped by to express condolences this week. I truly appreciated each conversation. Have a healthy, peaceful, and relaxing weekend. Shabbat Shalom and a happy, healthy, and rewarding secular New Year! Shabbat Shalom, Craig
Craig Bassett
It was the Shabbat before the secular New Year, and Rabbi Levine walked into the Kiddush room holding something unusual—a shiny, leather-bound planner. He held it up like a trophy and announced, "Friends, this year I’m going to be perfectly organized! No more missed meetings, no more last-minute sermons. This planner is going to change my life!" The congregation applauded politely, though a few raised eyebrows suggested skepticism. After all, they’d heard similar promises before—usually right before Rosh Hashanah. One congregant, Miriam, called out: "Rabbi, does it have the Jewish holidays in it?" Rabbi Levine flipped through the pages confidently—January, February, March… and then his smile faded. "Well… it has January 1st, but no Rosh Hashanah, no Yom Kippur, not even Tu BiShvat!" The room erupted in laughter. Another congregant, David, chimed in: "Rabbi, that’s why we have two calendars—one for the world, and one for the soul!" The rabbi nodded thoughtfully. "You’re right. But now I have three calendars: one for the world, one for the soul, and one for my desk that I’ll never look at again!" Someone suggested, "Maybe you need a Jewish planner—complete with candle-lighting times and kugel recipes!" Another added, "And don’t forget a page for emergency minyan scheduling!" The rabbi laughed along, but then he grew serious for a moment. "You know, this little mix-up reminds me of something important. The secular calendar counts down to an ending—December 31st, midnight, the ball drops. But the Jewish calendar? It’s a cycle. It reminds us that every day is a chance to begin again. We don’t wait for January 1st to renew ourselves. Every morning we say Modeh Ani, thanking God for returning our soul. Every Shabbat is a reset button. And every moment is an opportunity for Teshuvah—for turning back to what matters." The congregation nodded, appreciating the teaching. But then the rabbi grinned and added the punchline: "So if I show up for Kol Nidre on December 31st, just remind me—it’s not repentance, it’s my planner!" The laughter returned, and someone called out, "Rabbi, if you’re planning to fast on New Year’s Eve, at least serve rugelach at the break-fast!" Rabbi Levine raised his planner like a glass and said, "Deal. L’chaim—to life, to learning, and to calendars that actually include Hanukkah!" It was the Shabbat before the secular New Year, and the synagogue Board gathered in the social hall for an important meeting. The agenda? Resolutions for the congregation. The chairperson, Ruth, opened the meeting with enthusiasm: "Friends, the world makes resolutions every January—why shouldn’t we? Let’s set goals for the shul!" Hands shot up immediately. "We should resolve to come to services more often!" said Miriam. "We should resolve to study more Torah!" added David. "We should resolve to give more Tzedakah!" chimed in Leah. The rabbi smiled approvingly—until Sam raised his hand and said: "I resolve that the rabbi’s sermons should be shorter." The room erupted in laughter. The rabbi grinned and replied: "Sam, that’s not a resolution—that would be a miracle!" Then the suggestions got creative: Better coffee at Kiddush! A kugel bake-off every month! An extra bagel at the Kiddush for anyone who brings a friend! The rabbi listened patiently as the list grew longer and longer. Finally, he stood up and said: "These are all wonderful ideas. But I think we should start with something achievable." The committee leaned in. "What’s that, Rabbi?" The rabbi smiled and said: "Let’s resolve to finally finish last year’s resolutions!" The laughter was loud enough to drown out the sound of the coffee percolator. But then the rabbi added a gentle teaching: "You know, resolutions are fine—but Judaism gives us something better. We don’t wait for January 1st to change. Every day we say Modeh Ani, thanking God for returning our soul. Every week we have Shabbat—a built-in reset button. And every moment is an opportunity for Teshuvah—for turning back to what matters." He paused, then added with a grin: "So here’s my resolution: I’ll keep my sermons short… starting next year!" The room burst into laughter again, and Ruth raised her coffee cup: "To next year’s resolutions—and to finishing last year’s first!" It was the Shabbat before New Year’s Eve, and Rabbi Levine stood at the Bimah with a mischievous smile. "Wednesday night," he began, "the world will raise glasses of champagne and count down to midnight. But here in Shul, we already have the best bubbly—Kiddush wine!" The congregation chuckled. Miriam whispered to her neighbor, "Does Manischewitz even have bubbles?" The rabbi continued: "People make resolutions over champagne: “I’ll lose weight, I’ll exercise, I’ll finally organize the garage.” But Judaism gives us something better than resolutions—it gives us rituals. Every blessing, every Mitzvah, every act of kindness is a promise we keep—not just once a year, but every day." David raised his hand and asked, "Rabbi, does that mean we can toast with Kiddush wine at midnight?" The rabbi grinned: "Absolutely! Just make sure you say the Bracha first. And if you spill, it counts as Tikkun Olam—repairing the world, one carpet stain at a time!" The laughter grew louder as the rabbi held up a Kiddush cup dramatically. "You know, champagne comes with bubbles, but Kiddush comes with blessings. Champagne says, “Celebrate tonight.” Kiddush says, “Sanctify every moment.” Then he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: "And let’s be honest—our wine may not sparkle, but it pairs perfectly with rugelach." The congregation roared. Someone called out, "Rabbi, can we make a resolution to never run out of bagels at Kiddush?" The rabbi nodded solemnly: "That’s the holiest resolution I’ve heard all year." Finally, he raised his Kiddush cup and said: "So here’s the Jewish toast for the New Year: L’chaim—to life, to learning, and to laughter. May your blessings overflow like a well-poured Kiddush cup—and may your resolutions last longer than the champagne bubbles!" The room erupted in applause, and as people headed to Kiddush, Miriam whispered: "I think I’ll skip the champagne Wednesday night. Kiddush wine comes with fewer calories—and more Mitzvot."
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