Minyan Jubilee Celebration in the Social Hall and Chapel

A Legacy of Resilience and Faith: Celebrating 50 Years

As the minyanairs gather in the small white chapel next to the golden-yellow “tent,” reminiscent of biblical assemblies, we are reminded of the enduring strength and unity that have defined Congregation B’nai Israel over the past five decades. 

Among those early voices, Julius Guttmann, father to Leigh Gershwin and a native of Brooklyn, stood and asked: “Why don’t we have a minyan, we are a big synagogue now?” From that question, something powerful took root. The congregants rallied together to create a space for daily prayers to be said twice a week—a sacred rhythm of life that continues to this day.

Camaraderie and the Strength of Presence

While one can always say one’s own prayers in solitude—at any time and in any place—there is something irreplaceable about praying with others. Having a community around you brings a sense of camaraderie. It can lift you in moments when you don’t feel like praying, and it can offer comfort in times of trouble. Just as others may carry you, your presence may carry them when they are in need. This shared strength is part of what gives the minyan its power and its beauty.

Perseverance Through Challenges

The CBI minyan holds this tradition close. Even during the long months of the COVID-19 pandemic, our community never gave up. We gathered outdoors, or met on Zoom at 7:30 each morning. The sounds of the highway often rose over our voices—trucks hauling past, engines growling over the words of the Shema.

But still, we remained.

Even as membership declined, our core community—men and women alike—stood steadfast, showing up, speaking to HaShem, and holding space for one another.

Honoring Those We’ve Lost

And through it all, we have held each other in joy and in sorrow. Many of us have said the Mourner’s Kaddish for cherished members of our minyan who have passed—some suddenly, others after long illnesses. We have kept their memories alive for the year of mourning, and far beyond. Their presence is still felt in every prayer, every pause, every “Amen.”

Looking Forward: The Next Fifty Years

As we mark this milestone—fifty years of prayer, presence, and perseverance—we do more than just look back. We look ahead.

The minyan is not just a tradition; it is a living practice. It continues because people show up. Because someone asks, “Do we have ten?” Because even in times of grief, doubt, or distraction, someone still says Baruch Atah Adonai. And others answer, Amen.

Our community is not defined by numbers, but by connection. It is made strong by those who wake early, who log on from afar, who show up in person, who say the Kaddish for a loved one, or offer quiet support with a simple nod. It is made sacred by the belief that praying together changes us—individually and collectively.

The golden light of our sanctuary may fade with the sunset, but the light we carry from it does not.

We carry it forward—for those who came before, for those who sit beside us now, and for those not yet here who will one day rise and ask, “Why don’t we have a minyan?”

And from that question, we’ll begin again.