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I’m a two-time cancer survivor. In my 50s, I had breast cancer, then thyroid cancer. Now in my mid 80s, I’m cancer-free. I feel healthy and strong — and have a hunch I’ll remain that way for a good while. But I didn’t always feel so confident. In fact, I struggled mightily to recover psychologically and spiritually from my bouts of critical illness.

Devastated by my first cancer diagnosis, searching for information to help me cope, I came across a slew of articles and books on the mind-body (or holistic) model of illness — a paradigm which says that mind, body, and spirit are interconnected and profoundly influence one another. Won over by attention-grabbing titles like “Let Your Mind Heal Your Body” and “Think Your Way to Health,” I initially embraced the model wholeheartedly.

Although I found helpful some aspects of the mind-body approach (especially meditation and visualization), I came to feel that many holistic health proponents distorted the link between the mind and body. Oversimplifying the connection, they argued (and still do) that the wrong kinds of thoughts and feelings create illness and that it’s only by changing these that we get well. Three myths underpin this oversimplified concept of illness, myths that made my encounters with cancer much more difficult than they otherwise would have been.

The Inner Defect MythA medical diagnosis can shake the very basis of one’s identity, making even the most psychologically sound among us feel guilty and ashamed. The Inner Defect Myth intensifies these corrosive feelings by viewing illness as a sign that something is awry in our inner lives. Here, for example, is what Dr. Bernie Siegel (a pioneer in mind-body medicine) writes in Love, Medicine, and Miracles: “The simple truth is, happy people generally don’t get sick.” Believing that cancer in particular “fulfills [a] . . . psychological need,” he goes on to argue that “traumatic loss” typically precedes a cancer diagnosis and, if that loss isn’t “properly dealt with,” the body often responds by developing a “malignant growth.”

How did I respond to this idea that something out of balance at my core led to my breast cancer? Frankly, it sparked deep feelings of guilt and self-blame. It’s understandable if we blame ourselves for getting sick; being ill creates feelings of helplessness; blaming ourselves may create less anxiety than accepting that often there seems to be no reason at all why we become ill. Others may also blame us for getting sick. When I had thyroid cancer, a colleague asked me, “Why do you think you got cancer again?” –– his assumption being that I got cancer a second time because something in my life was still out of kilter.

These feelings of self-blame can be especially powerful when the illness is cancer. Before my first diagnosis, I’d had run-ins with a couple of significant medical issues. But none of them delivered the psychological wallop of cancer. One minute I was fine; the next minute — POW –– I was someone who gets cancer. And since cancer often evokes images of misshapen, diseased cells spreading throughout the body, I felt almost ashamed of my illness.

These awful feelings were multiplied many times over by my initial acceptance of the mind-body notion of the “cancer personality.” According to several holistic proponents, cancer patients fit a particular profile. In Getting Well Again, Dr. Carl Simonton, a prominent mind-body practitioner, writes that cancer patients tend to be emotionally repressed and pessimistic; they feel unloved and unappreciated; their lives lack meaning and purpose

But it’s a huge oversimplification to view the health of the body as a reflection of psychological or spiritual well-being. What about the role of heredity, diet, environmental exposure, even random chance? And look at the traits typically associated with the so-called cancer personality — emotional repression, childhood pain, dissatisfaction with life, you name it. Doesn’t just about everyone exhibit some of these at one time or another? Does an infant with leukemia have unresolved emotional issues? Don’t we all know someone who radiates psychological health but who’s been diagnosed with cancer?

So, if you’re ill and feel burdened, as I did, by an essentially blame-the-patient interpretation of your illness, take yourself off the hook. It’s the myth that’s defective, not the person who’s ill.

The Mandated Cheerfulness MythIf the first myth makes us responsible for getting sick, the second makes us responsible for recovering. The Mandated Cheerfulness Myth argues that maintaining a positive attitude is essential to getting well. Indeed, Dr. Siegel goes so far as to claim that “attitude…is the single most important factor” in getting better. Our immune system, he contends, can fight grave illness only when we transform negative emotions into positive, upbeat energy.

Clearly, dealing with illness is easier if we’re confident and hopeful. But this be-positive-at-all-costs edict threw me for a loop when I had breast cancer. I felt anxious about feeling anxious, fearing any emotion that smacked of negativity would do me in.

Insisting on a positive frame of mind leaves the seriously ill little room to respond authentically. Shortly after my second cancer diagnosis, a well-intentioned friend called to see how I was doing and kept assuring me “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine, just fine. Aren’t you lucky you caught the cancer early!” Her maddeningly chipper comments left no space for me to say, “Hey, you know what? I don’t feel fine. I don’t feel lucky. I feel angry and scared.”

Experiencing enormous anxiety after the phone call, I grabbed paper and pen, trying to sort out what I was feeling. Jabbing my pen into the paper, I listed all the fears that haunted me. And guess what? As soon as I gave myself permission to not pretend that everything was hunky-dory, my anxiety lifted dramatically.

So here’s the second bit of advice I’d like to pass along.

If you’ve received a ticket from the Attitude Police because you feel depressed, angry, or terrified when you’re ill, take the ticket and tear it up. We need to let ourselves feel whatever we feel. Being anxious and frightened doesn’t mean we lack courage—or that our immune system won’t be mobilized to fight illness. Yes, attitudes and emotions affect the immune system. But the upbeat and optimistic don’t always survive grave illness while plenty of scared, angry folk do.

The Transformation MythThe final myth, the Transformation Myth, says that if we really want to get well, we must fix the painful personal issues that led to illness in the first place. Arguing that “there are no incurable illnesses, only incurable people,” Dr. Siegel contends that once a patient repairs what’s askew, the body “can eliminate the disease because it’s not part of the new self.”

During my first bout with cancer, the idea that I’d get better if I transformed what needed repair gave me a much-needed sense of control — at first. But soon I crashed with a loud thud. My cancer had shaken me with volcanic force. Every loss, fear, and trauma I ever experienced surged to the surface; my life seemed riddled with fault lines threatening to give way at any moment. The transformation myth made me feel I had to resolve this inner turmoil quickly. What if I didn’t fix things fast enough or if, heaven forbid, I fixed the wrong things? My cancer began to feel like a test I had to pass. If I flunked the test (that is, if I died), it would be— some of the holistic health literature seemed to suggest — my own fault.

Nowadays I know people can survive cancer without exorcising deeply rooted demons — just as people can die despite having resolved major inner turmoil. It’s not as simple as many holistic practitioners claim.

No, I don’t believe we get ill because there’s something deep inside that needs fixing. Yet … I have to acknowledge that my cancer did serve as a catalyst for healing emotional wounds and awakening the spirit.

Reeling from the impact of my first diagnosis, I signed up for biofeedback sessions, hoping they’d help me manage my anxiety. Skeptical that they were doing any good, I went to my last appointment, slowed my breathing, relaxed my muscles — and felt more anxious and despairing than ever! Tension at an all-time high, I was suddenly flooded by light –– a glorious golden, honey-colored light. And suddenly I began to sob, but they were cleansing tears. My fears lifted and were replaced by a profound sense of peace and well-being.

This experience with the golden honey-colored light set me (an analytic, linear type of person) off in a surprisingly spiritual direction. So much so that several months later, I woke up one Friday morning, singing Rocking My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham. “This is weird,” I thought. “Why am I singing this? What could it possibly mean?” Then I heard myself answer, “Go to synagogue tonight”—an unusual response from someone who for decades had dismissed religion as personally irrelevant.

That evening I did go to synagogue and, on the way in, I picked up some literature outside the sanctuary. One item, the synagogue newsletter, was called The LIGHT! Chuckling at the coincidence of it all, I entered the sanctuary, sensing that I (a card-carrying skeptic) had somehow stumbled upon a kind of faith, one that’s helped sustain me over the years.

Illness can bring about other changes too. We may emerge with a greater appreciation of our own inner strength. Nowadays I sense within myself a bedrock resilience and grit I don’t think was there years ago. Also, consider this additional point: Although a significant medical challenge may shatter our sense of invincibility, this deepened awareness of mortality can be a blessing. It reminds us how important it is to make the most of the time we do have. It keeps us focused on the essential, on what gives life meaning, purpose, and joy. A final personal story illustrates what I mean.

When I had breast cancer, I told a friend I was thinking about becoming a literacy volunteer — something I had planned for years but never gotten around to doing. As I spoke, an image flashed in my mind of me and a future student sitting side by side, exchanging triumphant smiles, as the student finished the first book she had ever read. So powerful was the image, I choked up, couldn’t catch my breath, and had to stop speaking. In that moment, I knew I couldn’t put off becoming a literacy volunteer; it was something I had to do. Soon afterwards, I started volunteering and, since then, have worked with under-educated adults, at-risk children, refugees, and immigrants, helping them learn to read and write — work that’s added to my life immeasurable meaning and joy.

Many mind-body proponents believe we get seriously ill for exactly this reason: to teach us how to live fuller, more realized lives. Which brings me to my final message. Some of us may emerge from illness transformed, but I don’t think that’s why we got sick. And there’s no guarantee that transformation — if it even occurs—will bring health. We may resolve personal pain; we may visualize ourselves well and happy; we may discover a spiritual foundation; we may commit ourselves to doing meaningful work. These are wonderful strategies for living well, and taking such steps helps us feel we’re playing an active role in getting better. But such measures don’t — much as we’d like — necessarily banish illness from our lives.

Sometimes illness just happens.

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250 Years in AmericaAs the United States of America celebrates 250 years from our independence from Great Britain, the sentiment doesn’t feel like “So proudly we hail,” as our country is in a place even an episode of “Twilight Zone” couldn’t imagine. Especially for baby boomers who grew up as post-war children, when we naively experienced a calm of pride, oneness and patriotism.

Many of our relatives were products of the Holocaust; countless becoming American citizens. Our fathers were soldiers during WWll which brought our allegiance to honor our Constitution and the rule of law closer to home.

Saying the “Pledge of Allegiance” every day in school reminded us of what American stood for, strived for, and that we could imagine and work towards achieving the American Dream.

But as we entertain the Fourth of July 2026, and its meaning, so many of us feel a dread for what our grandchildren will not have, will not be able to take for granted, and what they may have to work for to regain the pride of the “Red, White and Blue.” Picnics, gatherings, fireworks, good old-fashioned-apple pie may not be the heartfelt celebration we have experienced in the past.

Can the end of one administration in 2029 return us to “the-good-old-days?” or will it take years or decades to bring us back to the “normal America” we knew? Will our grandchildren be the ones to restore “And our flag was still there?” Only time will tell, and hopefully, we baby boomers will live long enough to feel some relief for our grandkids’ future.

Because 85-90% of Jews in the US are of Ashkenazi background, we tend to think all Jews came from Germanic-speaking Europe, while only 10-15% came from Southern Europe-medieval Spain and Portugal and are referred to as Sephardic Jews.

Appearing in the Hebrew Bible, the word Ashkenaz represents the name of a descendant of Noah. Noted by Jewish scholars during the Middle Ages, Ashkenaz refers to German-speaking lands of Europe, so Ashkenazi Jews whose ancestors lived primarily in Germany and later throughout Central and Eastern Europe, became known as Ashkenazi Jews.

A distinct culture was developed through customs, prayers, foods and language. Many of us are familiar with the Yiddish our grandparents spoke, which was a combination of German, Hebrew and other languages. Most Jewish delis are a menu of matzah ball soup, bagels, challah, kugels and gefilte fish.

The Hebrew word Sephardic, or Mizrahi, came to be identified with Spain and Portugal Jews before the expulsions of 1492 and 1497 who then settled across North Africa, the Middle East, the Ottoman Empire, the Caribbean and some parts of Europe.

The Sephardic Jews spoke Ladino, a Judeo-Spanish combination and based on Hebrew and medieval Spanish, combined with other influences. Their typical dishes included Mediterranean-style recipes, rice, couscous, stuffed vegetables, fish and olive oil-based dishes.

Because they lived in different parts of the world, the two groups developed different religious customs, Hebrew pronunciations, cuisine and music but shared the same deep faith in Judaism and its history.

The first Jewish settlers arrived in America in 1654 and were Sephardic, making New Amsterdam, today’s Manhattan/New York City, their home. Over the next several decades, Atlantic port cities like Newport and Philadelphia became small Jewish communities. Eventually, Jewish merchants moved up and down the Atlantic coast creating new Jewish settlements where jobs could be had from fishing, shipping and trade.

By the 1700s, Jews ventured to the South where economic and trade opportunities became enticing as a center for tobacco, rice, indigo, sugar and molasses, deerskins and furs, lumber and timber, cotton, and opening stores with ship building goods. Jewish entrepreneurs made good money by starting to import goods from Europe and the Caribbean.

Charleston, South Carolina was a welcoming place for Jews allowing them religious freedom, to work, own property, and be participants in civic life. It was the home of Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim, one of the oldest Jewish congregations in the US, established in 1749. Other major Southern Jewish settlements in the 1700s were Savannah, a major center for commerce and Jewish life; Richmond, inviting for merchants; and Norfolk, a small port for maritime trade.

In colonial America, Jews, being Jews, tended to gravitate to coastal cities for entrepreneurial commerce, shipping and trade businesses rather than be isolated on farms and rural areas. In the late 1800-1900s, there were small numbers of Jewish agricultural spots in New York and New Jersey, but today’s statistics show Jews are overwhelmingly non-farmers, a tiny fraction well under 1%.

An interesting side note about colonial America: Larry David, Jewish comedian, actor and “Seinfeld” TV show creator, was recently on an episode of “Finding Your Roots,” where genealogical records revealed that his great-great-grandfather, Henry Bernstein, owned two enslaved girls, 17 and 4 years old! Bernstein immigrated from Bavaria, now Germany, in the early 1850s and settled in Mobile, Alabama and during the Civil War he served on the Confederate side. David’s reaction to this information was shock and discomfort!

During the 1860s, the Jewish population in the South was only about 150,000 and some Jews did own slaves and fight for the Confederate, but most opposed slavery and fought for the Union. The most famous Jewish Confederate was Judah P. Benjamin who served as Attorney General and Secretary of War for the Confederate government and Secretary of State for Jefferson Davis, (1861-1865), the president of the Confederate States of America, during the Civil War.

In the 1820-1880s, Jews began to migrate to the Midwest as a major destination after the opening of the Erie Canal in 1825. The cities of Milwaukee, Chicago, St. Louis and Cincinnati grew because of the possibilities of river commerce.

In 1819, Issac Mayer Wise was born in the Kingdom of Bohemia, then part of the Austrian Empire and today is the Czech Republic. He migrated to the US in 1846, arriving in New York, and within a few months he accepted a position as a rabbi in Albany, New York. Eight years later he moved to Cincinnati where a Jewish community was already developing. While in Cincinnati he transformed the city to the national center of American Reform Judaism by founding Hebrew Union College, the rabbinical seminary for what is now known as the Union for Reform Judaism. Because of his influence by the late 19th century, Cincinnati has often been called the Jerusalem of the West by American Jews.

“Go West, young man!” was popularized by influential New York Tribune writer Horace Greeley in the 1850s as advice to aspiring Americans seeking opportunity on the undeveloped Western frontier. The Jewish migration after the 1848 Gold Rush wasn’t led by any one Jewish leader but was encouraged by families learning of business opportunities.

Some of the most famous Jewish pioneers who went West and changed the landscape of American industry are:

Levi Strauss, who came from Bavaria in 1853, arrived in San Francisco and built a dry-goods business that became Levi Strauss & Co. He sold clothing, fabric and supplies to miners and workers, and in 1873 partnered with a tailor from Nevada, Jacob Davis, who had the idea of reinforcing work pants with copper rivets at points that tore easily. Strauss helped finance and patent the idea. Early on these pants were made from sturdy cotton duck cloth and later a tougher fabric known as denim. The indigo-blue color became the signature denim and was his legacy. Levi Strauss became one of the most successful Jewish immigrants in the American West, not for digging gold but for giving the world JEANS!

Adolph Sutro came from Prussia and his family settled in Baltimore around 1850. Wanting to seek his fortune during the Gold Rush, he made his way West and became one of the most influential Jewish pioneers in the American West. With his arrival in San Francisco in 1851, he worked several jobs before opening tobacco stores. He did not become wealthy by mining for gold or with his tobacco stores but realized helping miners to solve problems would be more profitable.

His biggest accomplishment was the famous Sutro Tunnel in Nevada at the Comstock Lode silver mines where he created a drainage system to improve ventilation making mining safer for thousands of miners. The project took many years and made him a wealthy man. He returned to San Francisco and was known as a civic leader, remained identified with the Jewish community while supporting Jewish charitable causes.

He built the Sutro Baths, one of the largest indoor swimming complexes in the world, the public gardens in Sutro Heights Park overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the Sutro Library; he restored the historic Cliff House that sits atop a cliff with amazing ocean views, (it became a restaurant that once was a rowdy gambling destination and since the late 1880 has been a restaurant. I’ve been there and the surroundings are stunning vistas of California coastline!), and he supported affordable public transportation for ordinary working families. In 1895, Sutro was elected as San Francisco’s 24th mayor.

Isaias W. Hellman was from Bavaria and he and his brother traveled by ship in 1859 via crossing the Isthmus of Panama while landing in California. Instead of going to the East Coast, they went directly to Los Angeles where relatives welcomed them. At the time, Los Angeles had only a few thousand residents and was a rough frontier town. His vision saw tremendous opportunity in the growing American West.

He started his career by working as a clerk for his cousin’s dry good store and learned English and Spanish, saved his money and within six years opened his own clothing and dry goods business. Frequently, his customers asked Hellman to safeguard their gold and valuables in a safe in his store. This ignited an idea that there was a need for reliable banking services in growing communities. What turned out to be a banking business started as a courtesy to his customers.

In 1868, he established one of Los Angeles’s first banks; three years later co-founded Farmers and Merchants Bank and other banks, including Wells Fargo. He invested in railroads, electric streetcars, oil companies, agricultural and real estate, bringing Southern California to a growing modern economy. He was one of the founders and major financial supporters of the University of Southern California, supported Jewish charities and institutions which reflected a belief in his philanthropy.

These three Jewish pioneers shaped the American West with their innovations, hard work, integrity and played a major role in the economic development in Los Angeles and San Francisco. (In case you’re wondering like me, Isaias Hellman was not related to Richard Hellman, of Hellman’s/Best Foods Mayonnaise, a German Jewish immigrant who moved to New York in the early 1900s, opened a deli in Manhattan and began selling his wife’s homemade mayonnaise!)

Let’s note the obstacles, difficulties, challenges and deprivations the brave foreign Jews experienced on their journey to the Old West. The schlep could take weeks or even months, depending upon the weather, traveling via wagon or stagecoach, which was very uncomfortable and straining on the body, dealing with children and often older relatives, with life focusing on survival. They had to make difficult compromises while trying to hold onto their identity. The biggest challenge was kosher food as there were no kosher butchers, markets or rabbis along the way. They packed foods that would keep well, such as pickled foods, smoked or dried fish, bread, crackers, dried fruit, nuts and hard cheeses.

Pikuach nefesh is the Jewish principle of the obligation to preserve human life, so when kosher food was not available and their lives were at risk, it was permissible to eat foods that otherwise would not be allowed. During this long journey, the Jewish travelers relied on this principle and tried to avoid eating pork or shellfish, while others ate whatever was necessary to stay alive.

On the Sabbath, and if holidays were during the journey, they lit candles they brought, said traditional prayers and continued to observe as best they could while in the middle of nowhere. If other Jews were on the same journey, they would band together for their common observances and adapted to keep the end goal in mind — a better life.

The emotional hardships that were the most difficult were leaving parents, siblings and friends behind, often forever; having to learn a new language and customs; worrying about raising children in a new environment with or without synagogues and a Jewish community; experiencing new landscapes as mountains, deserts, vast open spaces, very different from their homelands. Homesickness was a major problem.

Most pioneer Jews never abandoned their Judaism, they adjusted to a different life-style while creating synagogues, schools, cemeteries, Chevra Kadisha, the volunteers who performed burial duties, and charitable organizations.

By the 1870s, California became a major center of Jewish life with San Francisco being one the largest Jewish centers in the United States, roughly 10,000-15,000 Jews, ranking behind only a handful of Eastern cities like New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore. By the 1920s, the population in Los Angeles, with its growing economy, surpassed San Francisco, and was the second largest next to New York City.

A pattern for Jewish pioneers is that they settled where commerce was expanding, like in Nevada in the 1860s where a sizable community was established form general stores, banking, finance and real estate; Denver and Leadville, Colorado developed important Jewish centers with the mining boom; Arizona, New Mexico and Montana were smaller Jewish communities and centered around trading posts and mining towns; later in the 19th century, Portland, Oregan and Seattle, Washington became growing populations with their waterfronts creating successful financial opportunities.

Some of the most noted Jewish immigrants to make a major influences with their innovation, creativity, entrepreneurship, hard work and dedication to better the world are: Albert Einstein, Germany; Henry Kissinger, Germany; Joseph Pulitzer, Hungary; Irving Berlin, Russia; Samuel Goldwyn, Poland; Anna Freud (daughter of Sigmund), Austria; Gerty Cori (Nobel-winning scientist) Austria; Lise Meitner (key figure in discovery of nuclear fission) Nazi Germany; Hedy Lamarr (actress and co-inventor of the key technology called “frequency hopping” which guided torpedoes harder to jam by rapidly switching frequencies during WWll, which led to the technology behind cell phones, Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, GPS systems!) Austria. And not to mention ALL the prominent American-born innovators who have changed the world.

As we celebrate 250 years of this “experiment in democracy,” with hopes for a sustainable future from the ideals of our Founding Fathers, let’s celebrate and remember those who came before us who paved the way for our cities, economic successes, innovations, freedoms to be and practice in your own way, and honor their courage with acknowledgement of where they/we all came from. We are a melting pot within our Jewish ancestry.

Somewhere over the rainbow, dreams that people once dared to dream in distant lands came closer to reality in the United States of America, where those dreams did come true. On this Fourth of July, let’s pray for the living legacy of our country. PRAYERS for a HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY CELEBRATION!

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But sometimes it feels more like Groundhog DayEditor’s Note: This essay by Jayne Jacova Feld first appeared on her Substack blog, “Jayne Says.”

Morning light filtered through the bedroom window, and for a moment I felt the promise of a new day, something almost within reach. But before I could grab hold, a fault line was tripped.

Yearning, that uncomfortable yet expected guest, flooded in.

Oh, it’s you April third, said the voice in my mind.

It’s just another date on the calendar. Don’t give it more meaning.

It was tempting. She means well, this voice I call my unreliable narrator, so quick to spin a story meant to protect me from myself. For some time now, I’ve been drowning in a flood of conflicting emotions.

Because every day since April 3, 2021 carries the same knowing: Ravi, my firstborn son, the child who opened my heart to love, left his earthly body on that day.

At least the anticipatory dread was over.

Still lying in bed, I hesitated before glancing at my iPhone, holding on just a little longer before the heaviness could weigh me down.

The life we were still livingIt was 8:21 a.m. While there’s no special significance to that time, my mind went searching, needing to attach meaning to it.

What were we doing at 8:21 a.m. on April 3, 2021?

We were still a family of five — two middle-aged parents and three teenage boys — piled into an Odyssey, the minivan that had never failed to carry us toward something worth remembering.

As the Odyssey moved through the Shenandoah Valley toward Montpelier, President James Madison’s plantation home, the morning light stretching across the road. The signs of spring awakening felt like a promise.

And then what happened?

My mind veered dangerously close to capitulating to the dark thoughts.

Was there anything we could have done differently? Anything that might have stopped Ravi from dying seven hours later along the same mountain road?

See, the unreliable narrator says, I told you so. If you just treat April third like any other day, it can’t hurt you like this.

But before I relented, tracing every turn, trying to find some wrinkle in time that could change the past, Moose, our high-energy rescue dog interrupted. In one fell swoop, he leapt onto the bed, onto my chest, and set to work licking my face.

His version of love was as overwhelming as ever, dog tongue inevitably finding my mouth and reaching into my nostrils. It was too much, and what I needed to lift myself out of bed.

Downstairs, the aftermath of Passover was everywhere — dirty dishes stacked, lettuce and parsley wilting on the Seder plate, shells from the traditional egg smash competition scattered across the floor.

Moose trotted past me carrying a small bone, displaying it like a prize.

I stood there for a second, watching him, wondering when and how he’d managed to hoist himself up onto the dining room table. Then I realized what it was:

The Paschal lamb.

The bone on the Seder plate, it represents lamb’s blood the Jewish slaves smeared on their doorposts so the Angel of Death would know to pass over their homes, sparing their firstborn sons from the ultimate, most horrific plague.

The bone serves as God’s promise to protect the Jews during their passage to freedom, a promise returned to each year in the telling.

So why didn’t it spare Ravi? Why didn’t anything?

And just like that, I was back in Egypt, feeling slavery not as something that happened thousands of years ago to someone whose trace DNA shows up in a 23andMe report. Egypt is here and now, in the moments when I’m unable to loosen my grip on what has already happened, a past that cannot be changed.

What it takes to leave EgyptIn my personal version of Egypt, the message of leaving — of stepping out of the fear that so easily drags me down — still requires a kind of faith that’s hard to trust, especially knowing that even with plagues and parted seas, my ancestors still had a hard time figuring out if they should stay or go. They questioned, they hesitated, they complained. They created false gods to worship, but that’s a bit later in the story.

Here I am being asked to leave my Egypt without the benefits of the age of miracles.

Still, for the first time, I can see myself in the story and feel what that must have taken for enslaved people to follow Moses, this outsider raised by the royals who exploited them, with a speech impediment, whose earlier attempts had already unleashed chaos without changing anything.

I picture Moses — not Moose — rousing me from that place I’d slipped into. Moses’ cooler older sister, Miriam, is there too. Her tambourine, partially concealed in a tie-dyed backpack with her Grateful Dead cassette tapes, carries the promise of greener pastures on the other side of the Nile.

They deliver an urgent message: Go quickly. Grab the unleavened bread, put it on your back and don’t look back.

It must have been a tough sell. After so many plagues and false starts, the departing Jews surely realized freedom would not arrive as immediate gratification.

And the siblings’ sales pitch likely didn’t mention 40 years of desert wandering.

What we left behindFive years ago, we my family left home on our spring break trip to Virginia, it was the morning after the first seder, the last holiday we celebrated so completely with Ravi. We left quickly, before everything was put away, before the house was reset.

We had skipped out on the second night Seder, leaving dishes and Passover remnants behind — plastic frogs and wild animals and other toys representing plagues that were scattered in ways that now feel almost too on the nose.

I think I made it two days into vacation without eating bread before I got sloppy and then gave it up.

At the time, it felt reasonable although I carried some Jewish guilt. In those waning days of Covid, we were just excited to pull off a vacation combining what we loved as a family nature and American history. This after so many months living with the uncertainty of sickness and social isolation.

And still, my mind keeps returning to that moment of leaving, as if there’s something in it I didn’t fully understand then.

Ravi, on one of our last family hikes with him, in Virginia in 2021.When leaving Egypt felt like a typoIn the past, that central idea in our Haggadah — the book we read from at the seder to tell the story of leaving Egypt — and, really, in Judaism itself — always fell flat for me.

“And you shall explain to your child on that day, it is because of what God did for me when I, myself, went out of Egypt.”

That’s the line that’s meant to make it personal, the rationale for eating the bitter herb, (in our case it’s horse radish) to taste the bitterness of slavery as if it were our own.

As a kid, following our lifeless Maxwell House Haggadahs, the line confused me. Reciting it was like it was a school assignment. I remember focusing on reading the words right, trying to prove I was a better reader than my older brother Abe.

The idea that eating a disgusting vegetable was supposed to awaken something in me never crossed my mind. Maybe it was a biblical-times typo.

Also, the part about the four children — the wise one, the wicked one, the simple one, and the one who doesn’t know how to ask — rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t think there was a lane for me.

A middle child, I most identified with the wicked one who rejected the story as something that happened long ago to ancient people so different than me. And yet… I spent a lot of time wondering why the so-called People of the Book would fall for that.

I suppose my curiosity kept the door open to discovering my inner wise child. So maybe that’s why now, fueld by Ravi’s love, my desire to personally leave Egypt feels so urgent. This time around, with Passover overlapping with an anniversary that is anything but ordinary, I do feel the weight of what those words are asking of me.

You can tell Moose was already eyeing the Pascal lamb on the Seder plate.The Groundhog Day of GriefPassover is starting to feel less like a single exodus and more like the movie Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray’s character relives the same day. over and over again, until he finally stops living it the same way.

In that sense, the Exodus isn’t something that happened once — it’s every day. It’s every moment I’m faced with a choice: Stay in the story sounds solid but is a lie, or recognize the ways my mind can twist even my growth into something to fear.

My unreliable narrator is a pro at spin. She can take the ways I’ve actually broken free over the past five years — leaving my full-time magazine job, writing about my grief, teaching about self-love — and recast them as failure, instability, something reckless instead of something more true to who I am becoming.

The signs of the narrator’s sway are obvious if I’m willing to see them. I’ve stopped Substacking regularly. I’m still collecting thoughts, turning them over, but not committing them to the page.

And I talk a good game about letting go of the past without actually getting past it.

This feels like a lot, too much, for a mother to take on on the fifth anniversary of her son’s death. And yet I know there is no other choice.

I want out of Egypt.

What I wanted most out of April 3 is what I want of every day — to fully feel the love that Ravi awakened in me, to remind myself what I know is true —that this love cannot be created or destroyed. I want to let it wash over me and then release it back into a world so in need of that kind of love, as I am so in need of it. But I can only feel it when I let go of grip of the past.

Not Once. Every Day.So once I came downstairs, led by Moose but also Moses and Miriam, I decided not to wait for the matzah to rise. I asked Craig to start the day with me in our hottub.

When he admitted he too was fighting the same impulse — not to give the day more weight than it already carried, not to tip it toward darkness — it came as a relief.

We sat there, watching birds move between the young maple planted in Ravi’s memory, the feeder, and the older trees beyond. Meeting in the moment felt like a real step out of Egypt, or at least a break in the Groundhog Day loop.

Too many times, we forget to do this. We buy into the lie that talking about Ravi — the accident, the ways we’ve tried and failed to meet each other in grief over the last five years — will only cause more pain.

Later, we met up with extended family to hike in the Wissahickon Valley. Immersed in the beauty of these ancient woods reminiscent of the last hikes we took with Ravi during Passover give years ago, I let that memory move through me. First the sadness. And then, because I stayed with it, something else had room to arrive — the beauty of how fully Ravi loved our family hikes, the way his presence and joy infused everything, how much of him still moves through all of us when we’re together, including him in our time together.

It was a good day. It really was.

And then the next day came. And fog returned, along with a new appreciation how that comes wth the terrority of being human.

Hello Egypt. Hello Groundhog’s Day.

And again, I was asked to choose.

And I remembered in that moment to reach for the love.

Me and my niece Evie on our Wissahickon hike.The post Five years after losing Ravi, I’m still leaving Egypt appeared first on Jewish Sacred Aging.

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In Jewish tradition, we are reminded: “Venishmartem me’od lenafshoteichem,” guard your lives exceedingly (Deuteronomy 4:15). Rabbi Address often highlights how this imperative invites us to approach aging with intention, seeing the body as the vessel of nefesh, the divine spark entrusted to our care. As longevity reshapes our chapters, small, consistent acts of nurture become profound expressions of this guardianship. Few are as simple and essential as intentional hydration.

Water holds deep significance in our sources as mayyim chayyim, living waters. These are flowing, natural waters from springs or rain, never stagnant, symbolizing renewal, purity, and dynamic life force. In the mikveh, immersion in mayyim chayyim marks transitions and return to origins; in creation, waters gather to bring forth order and abundance. The rabbis saw in them an image of living Torah ever-moving, sustaining the soul. Drinking mindfully becomes a quiet parallel: replenishing the body so it may remain open to study, prayer, family, and community.

With age, thirst cues soften, yet the need persists. Proper hydration supports Physical Vitality by maintaining skin and fascial elasticity, reducing dryness that deepens lines, and aiding lymph flow for immune resilience and waste removal. It fosters mental resilience through steadier energy, clearer focus, and joint comfort which are the foundations for sustained presence. Water nurtures soulful connection by preserving the capacity to be fully with others, whether in conversation, learning, or quiet companionship.

Practical steps to integrate this ritual:

• Aim for about 9 cups (2 liters) of total fluid daily, adjusting for health needs—consult your physician as needed.
• Place a measured glass (250–300 ml) in visible spots: kitchen, desk, bedside. Sip steadily every 1–2 hours.
• Include water-rich foods: cucumber, watermelon, oranges, clear broths.
• Infuse simply: lemon or cucumber slices for gentle flavor and mild vitamin C support.
• Pair with routines: a glass upon waking, before meals, after using the bathroom.
• Observe gently: pale straw urine color and steady energy as quiet indicators.

In the spirit of sacred aging, mayyim chayyim reminds us that renewal flows through small, flowing acts. By tending the body with consistency and reverence, we honor the gift of continued days—remaining vessels of light, wisdom, and warmth for those we hold dear.

The post Hydration as Sacred Guardianship: Mayyim Chayyim in Daily Practice appeared first on Jewish Sacred Aging.

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As quickly as the end-of-year-gift-giving-holidays vanish, Valentine’s Day creeps up and dominates our Hallmark world of presents and cards, putting pressure on us to yet again find that perfect “I Love You” gift for our loved ones. The words have to convey the right sentiment; the color has to scream red even if the gift isn’t red while keeping in mind, that flowers and candy often say, “I couldn’t find anything else, and besides you have everything!”

Many people feel annoyed that February 14 commands that day to express love and appreciation while others buy, literally, buy into the commercial giving of sentimental trinkets. Realistically, you would never want to be that person who didn’t acknowledge your people on a day where consumers spend about $27.5 billion for cards, flowers, jewelry, candy and dinners! Oy vey!

Valentine’s Dayevolved from Ancient Rome when “Lupercalia” was celebrated as a festival of fertility, reproduction, renewal and coming of spring. It had nothing to do with romantic love, though it paired men and women for marriage, and sometimes via a lottery. By the third century CE, there were multiple Christian martyrs named Valentine, the most famous being St. Valentine.

At some point, young men were banned from marriage because the Emperor Claudius ll believed single men made the best soldiers. St. Valentine disobeyed and married his sweetheart, was imprisoned and executed around February 14th. Before he died, the tale goes, a note was found from his beloved and signed, “From your Valentine.” By the 5th century, the Catholic Church declared the Feast of Saint Valentine on February 14th.

By the Middle Ages, birds began to mate in mid-February, writers like Geoffrey Chaucer connected courtly love, poetry, love letters and devotion with February 14. By the 18th-20th centuries, England and the U.S. expanded the date by commercializing gifts, chocolates and flowers and Hallmark took over from there!

Though there is no prohibition of Valentine’s Day for Jews, there is certainly acknowledgement for recognition to our beloved, parents, children and others. Biblical Jewish Love claims it is something you DO, not just something you feel. It emphasizes action, responsibility, commitment. The Classic Jewish model of romantic love is Brit, covenant, not infatuation, and says love grows over time through shared obligations, mutual respect, loyalty and ethical behavior. Passion matters but it’s not the foundation as marriage, Kiddushin, it is a sacred partnership.

Judaism includes one of the most sensual love poems ever written in the Bible: Shir HaShirim, Song of Songs 6:3, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” and Rabbinic traditions read it both literally and spiritually, with passion, mutual respect, joyfulness and physical connection. Heschel connects love with wonder, responsibility and radical empathy, “To love is to be moved by the reality of another person and respond with care.”

Unlike Hallmark cards that emphasize grand gestures, intensity and idealized romance, Judaism values reliability, daily kindness and showing up again and again.

As baby boomers, we grew up on fantasy love via romcoms and Disney fairy tales that granted us a Prince Charming who would be our “Happily Ever After!” And who didn’t want to believe that? (For some, that reality hits after the fact and the hard way!)

The truth is that most classic fairy tales were dark, morally ambiguous, less focused on romantic fulfillment and often told tales of survival, virtue or social order and not love.

Examples are the Grimm Brother’s 1812 Hansel and Gretel, a story of a poor family where the stepmother convinces the father to abandon his children in the forest. They encounter a witch who fattens them up so she can eat them. Gretel kills the witch, the children return home with stolen treasure and the stepmother, luckily, has already died. Hence, no romance, no Prince Charming, no romantic rescue. The heroes are the children and the story confronts parental betrayal, starvation, cannibalism and murder for survival. Oy vey!

NOT a bedtime story you’d read to your children or grandchildren!

Hans Christian Andersen’s 1837 The Little Mermaid is a story we all know via the Disney version. The real story is that the mermaid falls in love with a human prince and she trades her voice for legs. Walking causes her constant pain and the prince never understands her sacrifice. He marries another woman and the mermaid is offered revenge for her life if she kills him; she refuses and dissolves into sea foam.

Would you tell your daughter or granddaughter to relinquish a part of herself for the love of a man? I believe her voice is a strong metaphor for silencing herself for love, giving up her identity, her power, suppression of her culture and origin and being different! And she sacrifices a part of herself for an unknown future!

Few people can say that at some time during their childhood, Disney stories, films or Disneyland didn’t leave some everlasting influence on their ideas of love, relationships, heroes, rescue, gender roles, suffering, friendships, community and family bonds, along with personal purpose.

Walt Disney didn’t invent the idea of Prince Charming or Happily Ever After, but he powerfully reshaped and standardized it in the 20th-21st century Western culture. His stories created a myth of destiny, even a false sense of romance as his stories run deep within our visions of life because he taught us emotional scripts that shaped our concepts of what life should be.

I personally know many Baby Boomers who still believe that Love Conquers All, Love-at-First-Sight is real and, “My Prince Charming is on His Way!” — via a shiny silver convertible or a dating app — and arestill waiting to be rescued and will continue the hope of for My Happily Ever After!

Given that most who are exposed to Disney experiences are below the age of critical thinking stages, somewhere between two to seven years old, the prefrontal cortex is still developing so stories are melded as templates for how the world works, not yet knowing what fiction is. Consequently, repetitive narratives and visuals are encoded as expectations, not ideas, and the brain stores the stories as lived experiences and not until later ages can one distinguish between the two. Add colorful visuals, music, rhythm, catchy lyrics, beautiful costumes, I-must-have QAmerchandise and the emotional highs and lows of the stories, and a child is now hooked into experiencing that the stories aren’t told BUT lived!

Hence, romance, romantic love, the rescuer, conflict ending permanently, and that people are fundamentally good, all become a model for love.

Disney softened the darker/psychological folklores and cautionary tales into narratives of happiness before THE END. He added emotional healing, the villain would always be banished, cruelty would end, justice would prevail, morality would win while romance was added to give our hearts romantic success and the feeling we could have the same.

Good, bad or ugly, the folklores and fairy tales of our childhood did a number on shaping our idea of love and how we approach the dance it takes us on. As we age, the reality of the initial love-struck electricity and the idea of being in love unfolds quietly into a give and take of patience, negotiation, forgiveness, reliability of each other, forming into a deeper, quieter and trustful relationship.

Maybe it’s not the bells and whistles of the dating days, but a heartfelt knowing you have a love partner in life, for life, who deserves that Hallmark card decorated in red hearts with a box of chocolates because it is your Happily Ever After!

For many who don’t have that love partner, love comes in all shapes and sizes. Love is love and we can be blessed with the love and enjoyment of our children and grandchildren, talents that fill our creativity and give us joy, fulfilling occupations, hobbies that bring us quiet pleasures.

Or the simple knowledge that love of oneself and the life we choose is more fulfilling than any fairytale because it’s our own story, that we wrote, that we lived, and gives us the gift that we can be our own best Valentine!

The post Jewish love and childhood fairy tales appeared first on Jewish Sacred Aging.

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A note from Rabbi Address: This essay was submitted by a concerned caregiver navigating the caregiving journey. We would be very interested in your reaction, comments, etc., so if you wish, please send them to me at: RabbiAddress@JewishSacredAging.com

On May 22, 2024, Jelly Roll sang his yet to be released song, “I Am Not Okay,” at The Voice Season 25 Finale.

My wife and I used to watch the show faithfully, following the auditions to the battle performance of duets, and then the knockout rounds to determine which contestants would perform live for America to vote on at future shows.

Together, we would try to decide which contestants the coach would save from week to week. As of this writing, the video of Jelly Roll singing has had 17,712,060 views including mine, more than once.

For those of you who have not listened to the lyrics and the soulful way in which Jelly Roll tells his life story, it is worth the effort.

The chorus to this song speaks to the heart of the caregiver of a loved one who is approaching the end of life with a condition for which there is no cure:

“I know I can’t be the only one
Who’s holdin’ on for dear life
But God knows, I know
When it’s all said and done
I’m not okay
But it’s all gonna be all right
It’s not okay
But we’re all gonna be all right

There is such a significant connection between the “I” and the “It” and the “It” and the “We” of the song.

Things become a lot easier when we come to the realization that no matter how bad our loved ones may be doing, and in return how it affects us, that we are not alone in our thoughts and our emotions. There are others who are willing to hold our hands as caregivers to give us the support that we need to live through each day with courage and with strength as we look for the tiniest of things that can fill us with gratitude.

As each day passes, Jelly Roll offers us a renewed sense of hope that “I know one day / We’ll see the other side / The pain’ll wash away / In a holy water tide / And we all gonna be all right.”

My wife started this journey through dementia almost four years ago, to the best of our determination.

The signs were there: Getting lost when driving, having a difficult time finding the right words, not being able to keep dates and times in order.

That is when we sought help from her primary care physician to help with a diagnosis, and a determination of what the road ahead of us might look like.

That is the moment when she began a part time schedule, spending a couple of days at a senior day care program so that she would no longer be left at home alone and I had piece of mind that she would be cared for properly while I was at work.

With her dementia, she believed that she was there to help as a volunteer. No one told her she wasn’t. My wife was given various tasks by the director of the program that allowed her to be in that environment of safety and stimulation while protecting her dignity, thinking she was there to help and not as a participant.

Over the next year and a half, days were added until she was attending full-time during her decline in mental abilities to remain focused. And the day came when she needed more attention than they could provide as part of the program.

Her son, who holds her medical power of attorney, and I prepared for that day, knowing there would be a time when my wife would need more support than I could provide for her at home, as well as keeping her safe from falling down the stairs where the master bedroom was located.

Even though we installed a walk-in shower during that time, washing was a struggle along with dressing appropriately.

We were quite fortunate that there was an opening at the facility where we lived, a private room and bathroom, that came with 24 hour a day supervision and medical care.

My wife went willingly, although she tried “escaping” through the front door on several occasions in the first few months. Did she really want to “go home” as was suggested by some staff? Given her demeanor of smiling after sneaking through the front door to the other side, some of us believe that it was the thrill of seeing what was on the other side that drove her to do it, and not the need to return home.

As a caregiver, I was informed each time that she was successful “in making a break for it,” adding to the anxiety that if she did this one too many times, they would ask that we leave for another place more appropriate! Thank God, that did not happen.

But this was not the only thing that was provoking my anxiety as a caregiver. Even though there was the relief that comes with not worrying about a loved one getting hurt by falling down in the home, or lost after going out the front door, while “somebody else” took care of their day-to-day needs, you still worry!

A year later, following two falls and minor injuries, it was time to move from our locked facility at the assisted living complex to the memory care unit at the nursing home, as her memory declined and new symptoms emerged.

During that time span, the things that we did on our visits together — having coffee and a muffin, talking to family members on the cellphone, sitting in the garden — diminished as my wife’s capacity to sit still also weakened.

The ability to visit daily took its toll.

The books about caregiving are good at warning you about the changes you can expect as certain parts of memory of your loved one fade away, but they do not do as good a job about telling you about the feelings that emerge inside of you as you bear witness to those changes.

You want to avoid feeling bad by being in their presence as often as you can, but you dare not to miss a single day out of guilt that your loved one might miss you, despite their inability to convey such thoughts and emotions.

Planning a vacation that involves several days without a visit were most anxiety-provoking. When we had our visits over the iPad, my wife could not recognize where my voice was coming from. The same was true of our cellphone calls to family and close friends.

According to the literature, caregivers are told that it is important to share the “burden” of visiting your loved one. If there were other family members nearby, maybe that would be possible. So, in their absence, it is difficult to say that you feel comfortable skipping a day of visiting without a family member setting their eyes upon your loved one.

I use the word “burden” with great trepidation. It suggests that what you are doing daily becomes something heavier than one ought to bear in life, when the load should be shared with others.

We live with the perceived universal rule that a loved one must visit their spouse frequently (daily) and for great lengths of time.

While each dementia person differs according to their personality and the way in which the dementia has affected their brains, more isn’t always the right way to achieve the right balance for both you and your loved one.

A familiar face may bring a spark of recognition, but does it always lead to a flame that is more sustaining the longer you stay.

Sometimes a shorter visit has a greater impact than a longer one which could lead to an increase in agitation for both of you. Yet, my role model was a husband who visited every day at lunch and dinner to feed his wife her meal, even though she had no idea who he was — until the day he died suddenly of a massive heart attack, leaving the role (and the hole in time) to her twelve children.

He showed up every day with a smile on his face, declaring that this was not a burden, but rather an obligation as part of his role as a loving and caring husband.

What we want most from our visits is something meaningful as well as productive. What I have learned is that there are no set rules to visiting, especially when trying to make sense of their conversation.

This is not meant to minimize the support that we give to our loved ones by sitting with them and by walking with them as they pace, hand in hand. What is missing from the literature, however, is what to expect as soon as the door to their facility closes and you are on the other side of our feelings and emotions, and intrusive thoughts.

How many times have I beaten myself up with my fears and my emotions of abandonment despite how well my wife is being taken care of by others!

The thoughts that go through my head:

“Why am I not doing these things for my wife? It is my obligation to do these things and not their’s. I am abdicating my responsibility!”

“Nobody loves her more, not even the aides and the nurse who receive her hugs freely?”

“Why has she forgotten who I am, never mind remembering my name?”

“Why do I keep coming back for such punishment?”

Yes, the voices in my head sometimes speak louder than the voice of reason who tries to reassure me just as loudly that I am doing the right thing, that my wife is content in this environment, her needs are begin taken care of by concerned and compassionate individuals who are invested in her welfare, and that she has activities to attend, and meals that are prepared for her, and the environment is a safe one that allows her to wander freely.

One of the more difficult questions that caregivers face on a regular basis is the one from friends, family, and acquaintances who want to show you that they care by asking, “How is she doing?”

And as much as you don’t want to hide the truth of any decline, and your desire to be politically correct that dementia is not something in which you might recover from one day, I have discovered a polite way to respond to people and put them at ease with my response.

I tell them that when it is time for me to say goodbye, my wife often asks me for a kiss and then a hug. Often, the hug is accompanied by her hand finding its way into my back pocket, as if she were looking for my wallet and the credit cards that are there. (Not that she did this when she was of sound mind…)

We won’t discuss what happens when the hand misses its target!

I find this answer most reassuring because if we don’t laugh at life’s uncertainties, we will surely end up crying! As we all know, from the Yiddish proverb, human beings plan, and God laughs!, we, too, can laugh with God.

Balance is what we are asked to achieve in our lives. How does one achieve that when you walk in the front door of the home that the two of you shared, and everywhere you look there is a reminder of your loved one’s presence, in the same way that we look for evidence of God in our spiritual lives and when we are open and receptive to it?

We simply remind ourself that there is no place devoid of that reminder that God is everywhere, as well as our spouse.

My wife’s drawings are arranged as an exhibit, like a gallery in the dining room. I open the closet as you walk into the house and her winter coat is still hanging there in the same way that her sweaters are taking up space in the bedroom closet and various clothing fills a couple of drawers to the dresser in the guest bedroom.

I occasionally trip over the shoes that she once wore in the closet when I fail to put on the light to get my own clothing. And in the bathroom, her toiletries are still being held underneath the sink — as though she will be returning from a vacation without me.

Several months after my wife had been living in a memory care unit in an assisted living facility, at the suggestion of my therapist and the need to bring about an incremental change in my environment that included cleaning out the closet and the drawers of the clothing that were no longer essential, I was shopping in Kohls in the bedding section when I came upon a comforter set for the bed that I liked. It was checkered.

The one that was on the bed currently had flowers on it. I decided in that moment while looking at the bedding in the clearance aisle that now was a good time to make a change to a black and white plaid pattern that was more masculine.

As I said, change is somewhat incremental. The comforter set sat on the bedroom floor for three weeks before I decided to open it up and replace the one that was there from our shared time together.

It was strange to look at the new comforter on the bed at first. It was a blanket of betrayal. OK! I get it!

The sentiments are a bit harsh, but they convey the angst that comes with change when a loved one is no longer there to share with you such sacred space as the marital bed. Over time, I have grown used to that change.

Another thing that books don’t talk about is the level of discomfort that comes with the continuation of lying on “your side of the bed” knowing that your spouse is not there on the “other side” any longer. A part of you wants to roll over into “their space” to console your inner being by trying to absorb whatever spiritual energy remains on that side of the bed, in the same way that some women might consider saving their husband’s shirts and wearing them because of the warm thoughts and feelings that it arouses in them, especially if the shirt retains the aroma of their sweat on the collar and in other strategic places.

For practical reasons, my wife slept on the side closest to the bathroom so that she would not trip on the bedpost when she got up in the middle of the night.

Is that the place where I belong now? Or should I continue to sleep closer to the open windows at night, as I have become accustomed to after so many years?

If I decide to bounce between the two sides of the bed from one night to another, is that a sign of ambivalence, or is it a sign of my creating balance? My therapist suggests that I try sleeping in the middle of the bed as a compromise. Is compromise a form of balance?

All of this leads to the overwhelming (at times) feeling of loneliness.

Even though you come out of your visits with the sense that the person who you knew throughout your marriage is still alive inside that shell of a body, and parts of it are displayed when you least expect it, a part of you misses the companionship that was the glue to your relationship throughout the marriage.

Rabbi Richard Address has responded to this issue of companionship during the caregiving period of life with compassion and understanding in ways that other clergy have just as readily dismissed such thoughts and actions as undermining one’s vows “to death do us part” — even though that is not we say at a Jewish wedding.

The television or the radio are wonderful distractions, but can only satisfy the soul for so long?

As God said to the angels, “It is not good for man to live alone.”

Thus, we have male and female, man and woman, to keep one another company.

I have no recipe to stave off those empty feelings of what runs through my mind each night when I return home to an empty house.

I do the laundry once a week, make the bed (and change the linens frequently) each morning, as well as cook my meals and wash the dishes immediately afterwards.

Yes, I still have retained the help of the cleaning woman who comes once a month to do those things I don’t have time to do thoroughly. Maintaining the house has become a lonely proposition, especially when it comes to cooking dinner when I invariably cook for four, but end up eating for two.

It is not uncommon for caregivers such as me to experience the profundity of our loneliness when thinking about our need for a companion, someone to talk to and to do the things that married couples do to celebrate life, such as going out to eat at a restaurant, go for a walk together, go to the movies.

While friends are important as supports, sometimes they disappear when it comes to entertaining us as a single person in the same way that couples may do together.

“Dating” is a very sensitive issue even for one’s family members who may interpret such behavior as improper as long as one’s spouse is still alive, even though they are not socially available to you as they were in the past.

Is it a justification to say that your spouse would want you to go on with your life, or is it the truth?

“Marriage” in the traditional definition is an agreement and an understanding by both parties that they would be available to one another in several ways — emotionally, psychologically, physically, as well as sexually (to name just a few ways that we communicate our love for one another).

When one of the parties is no longer available to honor these commitments, is it proper to believe that this gives the other partner permission to seek these important human characteristics elsewhere — while maintaining a bond of love for your spouse in new ways?

In Judaism, a married woman whose husband refuses to divorce her is called an agunah, a person who is chained to an unwanted marriage and who is unable to move on in a socially accepted (ethically, morally) manner — because she is still married.

Would I be exaggerating if I were to declare my current situation to that of an agunah, chained to a relationship in which the disease is the prevailing culprit preventing me from moving on in a similar way?

The experts in the field of psychology refer to the life of a caregiver as one of ambiguity. The best way to explain this technical term in a way that we can all comprehend is to say that the caregiver of a loved one who has dementia lives in two worlds simultaneously.

We live with the thought and the practicality that our loved one is here but not here — here in a physical way, but truly absent when it comes to remembering who we are and who they are, and what we are to one another.

We have lost them, because the person who they were, has been taken away from us by their dementia. Yet, we visit them daily as they react to our touch and our voice, leading us to believe that a part of them still remains as we hope that the rest of them would return, knowing it will not happen. That person has been lost to us permanently.

Unlike a physical death which is marked ritually with a funeral and some eulogies, and an eventual burial in the ground, the caregiver lives with no closure to their loss.

What is a person supposed to do when you know that your family and friends, as well as the people at your workplace, along with your religious faith tradition are so unsupportive of your human need for companionship and for touch?

Feelings of isolation and anxiety are not uncommon. Neither are the feelings of guilt and shame in wanting that which we are told by society’s rules is forbidden and a betrayal of one’s marital vows! Yet you feel ambiguously lost in a sea of mixed emotions and thoughts.

My “caregiver guide” (therapist) has reminded me on several occasions that I am not just a caregiver to my wife, I must also remember to care for myself if I am to be at my best for both my wife and me.

All you want is their approval, and you are never sure whether or not you will receive it to confirm that you are doing the right thing for yourself.

Who is the their?

It is the acknowledgment from your family, friends, and society (which includes your religious affiliation) that you deserve to love and be loved in new ways that involve moving on while your spouse declines, not knowing how long the decline might be — days, weeks, months, even years!

And then there is the fear of the repercussions from work and the document that you signed related to the morals and ethics of your position and what it might mean for your job and your career!

You are plagued by the question, “What will your colleagues think about you? How will the people at work react when the rumors go out that you were seen on a date?”

What you end up doing is sublimating your desires and finding secretive ways to find satisfaction.

At first, I thought that meant I should continue to enjoy my photography and take advantage of the good weather to go out into the woods for my weekly exercise, connecting to my spiritual side as it relates to the religious prayer thanking God who renews creation each day.

I must remember that I, too, am a part of that world that God renews each day offering me an opportunity to start over, refreshed and renewed to pursue meaning and purpose in my life as I express my gratitude for the blessings that are offered to me, even in the dementia of my wife and what she teaches me about patience and being more in the moment rather than looking at the past and wishing into the future.

I need to focus my energy on being a part of her world — in that moment that we both experience it — and truly feel God’s presence.

Just maybe, a relationship outside of marriage is a good thing when it confirms who you are as a loving individual outside of one’s caregiving responsibilities.

Every so often I come across an article that confirms my suspicions. Even though society looks upon dating outside of the marriage as a sign of infidelity, more people are beginning to realize that caregivers need to feel that the world has space for them to have a platonic if not a romantic relationship — whether it is laughing over coffee and a piece of pastry, or going for a walk along the beach or in a park — with a person other than their spouse with dementia.

It is a way in which they can become reattached to their inner selves as someone who is still worthy of being loved by someone who finds them attractive and who is able to find love outside of a marital relationship that can no longer confirm those feelings in the same way that you have become accustomed to as part of a loving marriage.

And if the dating leads to a sexual relationship as well, realize that the physical part is just one component to several parts of dating that need to be approached with caution and with both eyes wide open to the joys that we all deserve to have in life.

Another thing that weighs heavily on my mind is the notion of gift giving.

Birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays come around each year and were always celebrated with gifts and special meals that sometimes included a cake. Now that my wife can no longer recognize the value of a gift, it leaves me with such unsettling thoughts of what to do.

Flowers are no longer appreciated in the same way. So, I have discovered paper flowers to decorate her room, and they are very low maintenance! No need to water them.

I recall how much my wife liked to shop for clothing at Chicos. So,

I have purchased some blouses for her on special occasions and brought them to my wife. She recognized the bag by name, which was a surprise to me. However, she was unable to pull the shirts from the bag and unwrap them from the tissue paper. Instead, I pulled them out one by one and received her approval when asked if she liked them.

Did I by them for her? Or, did I buy them for myself out of a respect for my role as husband and this is what you do to celebrate your wife on her birthday and your anniversary? I think that I walked away knowing that I did the right thing, even though my wife is incapable of knowing the significance of the moment.

I would have regretted having let these occasions pass without some form of recognition or celebration on my part. My feelings and suspicions are confirmed whenever I see that her aide has dressed her in the clothing that I bought for her, and the smiles that greet me when I enter her living space. I must say that she looks marvelous!

One last thought, even though my journey is far from complete. I must admit that there are days when I have forgotten to put on my wedding band, not because it is something I was conscious of. Often, I’ll put the rings down on the dresser at night, and in the morning, I failed to look in that direction before going to breakfast. This happened before the dementia settled in.

To be honest, when I realize that I have forgotten to put my wedding band on my finger, I have felt uncomfortable as well as unnerved.

I wear two rings, my wedding band on my left hand and a Solomon’s ring on the other. For those who are not familiar with the story, King Solomon sent his chief jeweler out into the world to find a ring worthy of the King of Israel.

After a year, he returned to the city limits empty-handed after visiting the world’s best craftsmen. It is there he came upon a jeweler who was hammering some Hebrew words onto his silver rings. The words read, “Gam zeh ya’a’vor” which means, “This, too, shall pass!”

Wear it one way, with the words facing out, it is a reminder that one’s good fortune is fleeting and to be grateful for what you have. When your fortune changes, and your good fortune has passed, you turn the ring around with the wording facing you as a reminder that misfortune, no matter how horrible it may feel, is only temporary when you live life with hope, courage, and determination. And this period of adversity will change over time as well, “This too shall pass!”

I have noticed that in all that I have experienced in reference to my wife and her increasing dementia and the places we have been, to provide her with a home that is safe, I have never changed the direction of the words on my ring. I have come to realize that I have a certain determination to see this through with the notion that even though this, too, will pass, I never envisioned what is happening to my wife as a “misfortune.”

It is my fortune to see what my wife’s world is like each time that I visit and how it serves her needs. The “misfortune” occurs when I choose to see the things that have transpired over the past several years and my caregiving as a burden, and I refuse to reverse my ring in recognition that I have failed to be open and receptive to her world of dementia.

Just as my wife is my heroine, I hope that she sees me as her hero — and this will never pass as long as we hold one another in our hearts instead of in our minds, as we continue to walk her corridors hand in hand.

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Compiled by Leonard H. Berman and inspired by Dennis Praeger.

Note from Len: Jews pray as a collective, the idea being that if you did not commit the sin being read, someone else probably did and we as a group need to collectively acknowledge our trespass and ask God for a collective forgiveness. We are one people, Kal Yisroel. Praying as a collective is one example of Kal Yisroel.

The traditional Al Chet serves its purpose by making us aware of the evil that mankind continues to perpetrate on mankind. We are asked to say, “For the sin of…We have done…” and this is difficult for many to accept since it is so negative in its purpose. So I am suggesting that as an addendum to the traditional Al Chet, we also read a more positive prayer expressing our gratitude on what being Jewish is all about. Perhaps this Al Chet will inspire Jewish people who have come twice a year to return, seeing how uplifting Judaism can be, and how our lives are made better by it.

For the joy of being part of a religion that honors life and human dignity,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that gave the world its vision of peace and harmony.
For the joy of being part of a religion that teaches us that all are equal before the law,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that insists on everyone being educated.
For the Joy of being part of a religion that sees the family as the foundation of a stable society,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that requires us to be socially responsible.

For living all these joys, inscribe us in the Book of Life and grant us atonement.

For the joy of being part of a religion that fills us with moral passion and asks us to hate evil,
And for the joy of being part of a religion whose objective is to mend the world.
For the joy of being part of a religion that invites us to be preoccupied with our actions,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that expects us to critique ourselves in order to become better.
For the joy of being part of a religion that asks us to model correct behavior for others,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that structures our time through celebrations and rituals.

For living all these joys, inscribe us in the Book of Life and grant us atonement.

For the joy of being part of a religion that gave the world the concept of holiness,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that asks us to be a light unto the nations.
For the joy of being part of a religion that invites us to struggle with God,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that insists that I be grateful.
For the joy of being part of a religion that inculcates self control,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that gives me a community and distinctiveness.

For living all these joys, inscribe us in the Book of Life and grant us atonement.

For the joy of being part of a religion that provides me with a pathway to the transcendent,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that insists that I use my intellect.
For the joy of being part of a religion that insists that I focus on this world and not on the next,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that provides me with sacred time each week where I can refocus, replenish my resources, and rejoice in living.
For the joy of being part of a religion that inculcates feelings of justifiable pride in our people’s accomplishments,
And for the joy of being part of a religion that teaches that correct behavior, not correct faith is what God desires of us.

FOR LIVING ALL THESE BLESSINGS, GRANT US PEACE AND ATONEMENT.

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Much of the commentary on Ki Tavo focuses on the blessings and curses — what will happen if the Israelites follow the mitzvot, and what will happen if they do not. Moses repeatedly warns the people of severe punishment should they break their covenant with God. But our lives already contain enough severity. So, today, let’s take note of two other themes in this portion: listening and joy. Together, they offer a path to deeper peace and greater fulfillment.

In this week’s parsha, Moshe declares: Hasket u-shema Yisrael — “Be silent and listen, Israel. You have now become the people of the Lord your God” (Deut. 27:9). Note: silence comes before listening. To really hear, we must quiet our own noise. Only in that stillness can we recognize God’s presence and hear one another with clarity. No wonder the root sh-m-a — to listen — appears nearly one hundred times in Devarim. For Moses, listening is not a small virtue; it is the foundation of covenantal life.

Listening, however, has become increasingly difficult in our world. Post-Covid, many of us remain in silos, engaging mostly with those who think as we do. Technology demands our constant attention, pulling us away from the people and experiences right before us. Aging often shrinks our circles of connection. The result can be isolation. And yet isolation is precisely what the Torah warns against. To live meaningfully, we must resist the temptation of distraction and separateness and instead cultivate the discipline of listening.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks put it beautifully: “Listening opens us to God, our fellow humans, and the beauties of nature. Faith itself is the ability to hear the music beneath the noise.” Listening is not passive. It is an act of faith, requiring focus, humility, and openness. And when we practice it — when we truly listen — we discover something surprising: joy.

Ki Tavo itself makes this connection explicit. It teaches that curses will come “because you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and gladness of heart, out of the abundance of all things” (Deut. 28:47). The Torah here insists that joy is not an optional extra. It is at the core of religious life. Joy does not erase hardship or deny pain. Instead, it allows us to recognize the blessings that exist in this moment: the gift of life, the presence of community, the beauty of creation. Joy comes when we practice gratitude, when we notice what is good even amid uncertainty. To live with joy is to refuse to let fear or loss define us.

When we bring these two themes together, we see their power. Listening opens us to the voices of others and to the voice of God. Joy gives us the strength to carry hope even when the future is unclear. As Rabbi Sacks wrote: “A people that can know insecurity and still feel joy is one that can never be defeated, for its spirit can never be broken nor its hope destroyed.”

The blessings and curses of Ki Tavo remind us that the covenant is serious, but its heart is not fear — it is relationship. By cultivating the practice of listening, and by embracing the discipline of joy, we shape lives of meaning. We build communities sustained not by severity, but by gratitude, connection, and hope.

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As Jewish parents and grandparents, it is our Jewish way to always be there for our kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews or other young people we are close to. It’s in our DNA, even if they don’t want advice, assistance, or what they might think is meddling. But we can’t help ourselves, it’s just who we are. We are all Jewish mothers!

I want to share some information that I think is important for those who have Gen Zs in their families, as we need to be especially vigilant as these kids venture out into the world and find difficult obstacles as they are deciding on majors for college and job searching after college.

So, who are the Generation Zs? Well, we know we are baby boomers, born 1946-1964. Gen X are born 1965-1980, Millennials are born 1981-1996 and Gen Zs are born 1997-2012. (Gen Alphas are born 2010s-2025).

Most likely, we all have a Gen Z or several in our mishpachah. We kvell at their many accomplishments, show pride at their Bar/Bat Mitzvahs and Confirmations, wouldn’t miss their soccer games or dance recitals and enjoy helping and reading their homework assignments. We come from a place where education is deeply ingrained into our Jewish life cycle through religious, family, cultural, community rituals and traditions. As they succeeded in these areas, we hope we have contributed to their journey. It’s part of the legacy we want to leave them.

I have 4 Gen Z grandchildren. J (male) is 25, S (female) is 22, A (female) is 21 and K (female) is 19. J had just started junior college when Covid hit. He did his schooling online and did well, didn’t kvetch at all. When life got back to normal, he attended San Diego State University, living in a house with four guys. The partying and drinking scene were not his bag. He is an avid gamer and he kept his connections with peers from around the world.

After one year, he decided he was not a fit for the college life and went home. He appeared sure of himself and his choice. Months later, he enrolled in Oregon State University as an online student and after one quarter, he was more positive college was not his path. His parents allowed him space to figure out his next move, not judging or nudging him. He got a job until there were layoffs. He soul-searched for months until one day he excitedly exclaimed, “I want to be an electrician!” He’s one year into his apprenticeship and loves doing the work and his boss says he gets monthly compliments on J’s interaction with clients and efficient work.

At first, his parents and I were sad that he didn’t finish college because we all knew how important a college education is for success, something so ingrained in us. BUT today, with the job market, AI, and expectations of Gen Zs and employers, we are thrilled to realize he will always have a job because we all need electricians, and AI will never take over the work he’s doing! We are so proud of his trajectory and think that because we were supportive and let him come to his own conclusions, it took the emotional pressure off him to find his own way.

S (J’s sister) also did well with online schooling during Covid, though she missed her friends and their socializing. She is a 2025 graduate from the University of Oregan, with honors, while majoring in Art and Communications. She’s a very talented artist and sees a future in designing seasonal merchandise for a branding company. For now, she has decided to live at home, find an interim job while taking time to search for her first big opportunity.

This decision has come from watching her peers freak out about not finding their dream jobs right out of college. She says, “I’M TIRED!” and won’t add the stress to her life after four years of studies, two weekly jobs, art projects and photo editor of the school magazine. “I’m so lucky to have the support of this decision from my family. No one is pushing me and that means I can take my time and make good choices!”

A (J and S’s cousin) also did well online during Covid. Over this time, she created a website for Jewish teens around the world to share their stories of being quarantined and had over 700 followers! She will be a senior at the University of Wisconsin and has worked for Hillel for three years, earned excellent grades and spent this summer in Maine with an internship working for a company that specializes in Design Strategies. This major teaches how to be a consultant for problem solving and business design.

While hoping this company will hire her after graduation, one never knows what the job market will be like next summer. Companies may need this kind of employee as many are using consultants on “as-needed-basis” because they can’t afford to pay fulltime salaries. She may have good opportunities in this field to find work after graduation.

K (A’s sister) also did well online in middle school during Covid. But she has had an unusual path. She spent a semester studying in Israel at 15-years-old, came home and created and presented new curriculum for local (Bay Area) schools on teaching updated versions of the Holocaust, which they are now teaching to eighth and eleventh grade students. She graduated high school early and she spent three months in Krakow to work at a JCC that was helping Ukrainian refugees resettle in Poland. Through an international organization, she raised $10,000 for a girl’s school in Africa. She was accepted to Northeastern University in Boston, but sadly, after several months, had to take a leave for medical issues. She’s now at home, working two jobs, and will be taking junior college classes locally, while she deals with her health issues. (Thankfully, the health problem is not urgent but does keep her from 100% energy and concentration.)

I mention my grandchildren because you may have some similar stories, or not, about the Gen Zs in your life, who may have comparable or totally opposite stories but give us insight into what they have experienced. Most are ambitious and eager to conquer the world in spite of the aftermath difficulties of the Pandemic. I’m very grateful that my grandkid’s parents have been so supportive of their wants, choices and decisions as they grow into adults. Now, if only the world can be so generous because these Gen Zs will need all our support, validation, encouragement and respect for the journey ahead.

FYI: Jewish Gen Zs, according to data from Pew Research and Jewish Virtual Library, make up 18% of all Jews in the US and are in or will be added to the job market in 2025.

Here are some observations reported by companies and employers from what they are experiencing with Gen Zs, post Covid during the interview process, that is resulting in a bumpy road while they seek employment:

-Hiring and HR managers are seeing a thread among recent college graduates where there is a lack in basic interviewing skills, such as poor communication, no eye-to-eye contact, unprofessional attire, inability to explain how they would manage/solve a work problem, a shortage of practical one-on-one experiences and struggles that can adapt to the workplace. They believe the isolation during Covid is directly connected and related to these topics, as they have never experienced such a high rate of these issues before Covid and Gen Zs.

-Though many kids did adapt, for others, this drastic change has created stress and generated emotional challenges, such as loss of motivation, severe anxiety, self-esteem issues, depression, loneliness, social isolation and mental health symptoms. They questioned the validity of learning via online, while trying to do their best to figure things out. Because this was new for all of us, we had little answers to give our kids, as we all waited-it-out during this new normal.

This data is not encouraging for companies wanting to hire Gen Zs.

Because the Pandemic interrupted Gen Zs normal daily routine, they were robbed of the expectations of what they thought their middle and high school experience would be. Many had no Prom, no graduation ceremony, which is big part of the high school experience that was denied them. Being quarantined disrupted their learning patterns and a new way of education was thrown upon them, while they had to instantly change their mindset about everyday life.

What Gen Zs are experiencing now:

-The excitement after graduating college is all about the accomplishment and the anticipation of finding that first job. For Gen Zs, they are entering a rapidly evolving job market, global instability all shaped by an unstable US government and current wars, automation, remote work, a highly competitive entry-level market, and approximately 275,000 lay-offs in the US in 2025, which adds more job hunters to the mix.

So how do these negative factors figure into the job search for Gen Zs?

The immediate impact for Gen Zs who are actively job hunting are finding these results during the search: Mass lay-offs and budget cuts are affecting job opportunities in the fields of tech, finance, gaming, media, journalism, publishing, marketing, social media, graphic design, entertainment, TV, film, humanities, law and legal services.

Most companies use AI for the initial procedure before getting your resume to a real person. The overly long and complicated process is causing great frustration and discouragement. The constant rejection via a template letter is leaving applicants feeling defeated. And the new and latest term for not being responded to at all is “Ghosted!” Companies that ignore any correspondence, resumes or follow-up contact by an applicant have created the feeling of being abandoned, ignored, invisible, dismissed.

While raised that college was the key to your future and after having done “everything right!” while achieving good grades and extra-curricular activities in high school, Gen Zs are feeling disillusionment, burn-out, the fear of failure and falling behind personal and family expectations. Many Gen Zs are reporting that after going through the beginning process of sending resumes and filling out questionnaires, some jobs are not real! This is termed the “Imposter Syndrome” where the job postings are fake! Time and emotions result in wasted efforts and skepticism about applying for the next job.

The good news is that Gen Zs have been exposed to advanced technology from an early age, leading to strong digital literacy skills and a natural affinity for digital platforms and communication tools. They are highly connected, sociable and accustomed to instant access to information. They are dedicated to becoming change agents, to saving the planet, to combat climate change, eradicate discrimination in the workplace, more gender equality, reinstating DEI, sustainable product usage, living in a war-less world and protecting the Constitution and Rule of Law. They will work as hard for these issues as they will in their professional desires.

Despite the hardships so many Gen Zs are experiencing, they are still motivated to find meaningful work, even if that means pivoting out of the field they graduated in. With AI taking over so many human positions, they are investigating more stable industries or must revert to part-time unrelated jobs or underemployment.

Some are trying entrepreneurial paths, finding others in the same dilemma and combining all resources to get started. Adding to their stress, there are student loans to pay off, rent to pay, food to buy. One report suggested that as soon as a Gen Z gets any kind of job, they should pay something, even $50.00 a month, towards their student loan debt so they are in the habit of making that payment NOW instead of waiting for deferments that are years away.

Some good news is there are available hot areas for job hiring in (with notable competition): AI development, cybersecurity, data analytics, climate technology, graphic design, video editing, writing, coding and voiceover work. Opportunities are available in E-commerce, online businesses, fashion, sustainable products, urban planning, environmental engineering, mental health, therapists, social workers, health/wellness, personalized products, and green energy climate data.

But these may not be the majors Gen Zs have completed, so many are returning to school to focus on new disciplines.

Add all these extreme roadblocks in the job journey for these kids and the ADL finds that Jewish students have more hurdles to jump. In 2024, they conducted a field experiment where 3,000 identical resumes with varied names were submitted targeting administrative roles. The Jewish American names had a 3.4% lower callback rate, which meant they had to send 24% more applications to receive as many positive responses as possible. Applicants with Israeli sounding names were in a worse position with a 4.9% lower response rate and needed 39% more applications to match results of neutral names. One applicant reported, “As soon as a hiring manager learned I was Jewish, I was ghosted.”

We can’t help but conclude that having a Jewish identity compounds the job search while facing all the above issues with added antisemitic related discrimination. Studies and testimonies by Jewish Gen Zs clearly state they are at a disadvantage in callback and interview responses. It’s suggested that Gen Zs search for Jewish organizations and institutions, such as: Jewish owned business, professions that are more action-driven versus profit driven, healthcare, non-profits, and Jewish internships and mentorship programs. Also, there are valuable networks to research like JewishJobs.com, Tribe Jobs, Torah Umesorah Job Board, Hillel International and BBYO, Birthwright Israel, Lewis Summer Program, WIZDM Internship Program, Hadasah-Brandeis Institute, World Union of Jewish Students (WUJS), Eshel Internships/JQ (support and advocacy for LGBTQ) and the American Jewish Congress Internships.

This is a lot of information to unpack but I hope it is worthwhile for those who have Gen Z connections and for those who might be in a place of offering some kind of help, support and compassion. It is a difficult time for these ambitious young people and I’m sure no one wants them to feel alone and completely discouraged by a world that is in disarray and not their fault or creation.

The Gen Zs did EVERYTHING RIGHT on their journey to college graduation! It is an unfamiliar world we baby boomers live in, and we all had our difficulties with job hunting, but this is a unique time in the 21st century and I pray young adults won’t always think this will be their normal.

I believe it is our responsibility to help our Gen Zs with endearing influence of understanding their plight, continued encouragement and lots of hugs, all of which will go a long way. Gen Zs are the future of stabilizing this planet and creating an environment of inclusion.

Gen Zs have a strong sense and are deeply rooted in Tikkun Olam, to repair the world. They want to make a meaningful impact and not just a paycheck.

As the tradition goes at the end of a Bar/Bat Mitzvah ceremony, the Rabbi places his hands on the head of the 13-year-old and recites the Birkat Kohanim(Priestly Blessing):

“May you be blessed and protected on your journey through your life. May you always feel the warmth of love, the strength of your inner voice and the guidance of your values. May your mind be eager to learn and you find courage in times of challenge. May you go forth with confidence, compassion and purpose. And know that you are never alone.” Amen.

PEASE Join me in this blessing for all Gen Zs who are struggling with their job searching in these unprecedented times and let’s be their rock of encouragement, a wonderful legacy to leave.

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This week we meet the famous portion that deals with the spies. One group scouts out the land and returns with the message of do not go while the second, smaller duo return with more positive response. A classic interpretation of this is, of course, that we see what we wish to see at various times in life. The people resist the positive report and God vents anger in 14:11ff. Once again, the majority of the Israelites seem to have no faith, despite what they have already experienced. The punishment for that lack of faith, as written at the end of chapter 14, is that the generation of the Exodus would perish in the Wilderness.
That seemed to me to spark a question that has also come up in some recent classes and discussions. That is the role of faith and, what exactly do we mean by it? Likewise, does our “faith” have to be conditional, or in other words, does the threat of death condition our beliefs?
Aspects of many religious structures posit a system of what some would say control. The “threat” of eternal punishment or damnation is tied to a system of beliefs and actions. Faith derived from coercion is not faith but, in many ways, a type of spiritual slavery. Likewise, how has your faith changed as you have grown older and what do you have faith in now?
This Shabbat I ask all of us to consider what that idea of faith means. What do we have faith in? Does real faith begin within us? Does faith in our own self provide a solid spiritual foundation upon which we can build a positive life? Do we have faith I n some outward idea, or value or ideology? Judaism, even in our darkest moments, never has lost its faith I in the concept of hope. The “Alenu” prayer at the conclusion of services states this. Hope requires some aspect of faith. How do you define that faith?
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Richard F. Address

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Editor’s Note: This Guest D’var Torah for the Pesach Festival comes from frequent JSA contributor, Chaplain Barry Pitegoff, BCC.

The movie awards recognize the actor / actress in the best supporting role. Perhaps we need to do that more often in our stories from scripture. For Purim, we think of Esther. Vashti, the “other woman” in Megllat Esther, is in a supporting role, maybe even more so than Mordecai, as Vashti’s stance at the opening of the story enables Esther to even consider possibly becoming Queen.

Pesach (Passover), quickly approaching, clearly places Moses center stage, at least among the humans. The story of Passover, unlike Purim, clearly has G-d in the story. For Moses to have even gotten into the story, we need to look at the supporting role of Miriam, Moses’ sister, older than him by only five years. Moses first comes into the story of Pesach because Miriam, only five years old at that time, sees the basket coming down the river with Moses inside, consistent with the decree to slay the new Hebrew sons, intercepted the basket, and handed it over for safekeeping. Let us consider this a major supporting role for Miriam in the story.

Pesach celebrates our freedom from slavery in Egypt and our freedom from Egypt altogether. I have been pondering how to simplify this story to explain it to Adult Ed classes at houses of worship of different faiths.

One Pesach concept is the progressively more challenging ten plagues G-d inflicted on Egypt, announced by Moses’ messages to Pharaoh. Instead of changing Pharaoh, the plagues “hardened his heart.” Rabbi Sharon Brous, in her contemporary book, The Amen Effect, expounds on why Darkness, the ninth and next-to-last plague, could be considered worse than boils and frogs and hail, preceding plagues. Excerpting from Rabbi Brous, “The Bible describes the darkness so thick that ‘no person could see another, or even rise from their places’ …. More than physical discomfort, it brought spiritual anguish. …. ‘The deepest darkness,’ wrote one nineteenth-century Polish rabbi, ‘is when one cannot even see his neighbor, and therefore can’t join him in his suffering and pain. Once a person no longer feels his pain, it renders him completely impotent.’ When we are unable to support each other in our suffering, our lives are stripped of meaning. Surely, that is among the most devastating of plagues: the terror of total disconnection.”

Pharaoh finally gives in to Moses’ nagging of “Let my people go” with the threat of the tenth plague, the death of every firstborn son in Egypt, both human and animal, except, of course, the homes of the Jews/Hebrews because the Angel of Death noticed the blood of a lamb smeared on its doorposts. Did this plague actually begin or was the threat of it strong enough to persuade Pharaoh? One theory is that Pharaoh realized that he, too, was a first-born son. He, too, would not be spared.

Pharaoh’s words were not, “You’re free. Leave.” Rather, his words were “Go and worship your G-d.” The Egyptians, with multiple gods, had a problem getting their hands around the concept that there could be only one G-d.

The Hebrews/Israelites, as they were known in the story, left in such haste that the bread still being baked had to be taken with them, becoming the origin of matzah. What else was taken in haste? Stay tuned.

They head towards The Promised Land but, oops, there is a river in the way, and Pharaoh had a change of heart and sent warriors, chariots, and horses after them. As is taught in Exodus, “When the king of Egypt was told that the people had fled, Pharaoh and his courtiers had a change of heart about the people and said, ‘What is this we have done, releasing Israel from our service?’ He ordered his chariot and took his force with him …. and he gave chase to the Israelites ….” Pharaoh, himself, was one of the warriors in pursuit. [Imagine the anger fueling him.]

Adonai says to Moses, “Hold your arm over the sea, that the waters may come back upon the Egyptians and upon their chariots and upon their riders …. But Adonai hurled the Egyptians into the sea.” [The narrative does not say what happened to Pharaoh. [A question for Midrash.]

The Israelites are on dry land, the sea has closed behind them, and there is the urge to rejoice in song. Although some crossing the dry river were in families, the men were with the men only, walking ahead of the women, two separate groups. Moses led the men. Moses rang out the song deigned for rejoicing, stanza by stanza. Each time the men heard a stanza, then men repeated it in song. Behind the men were the women. Miriam, Moses’ sister, was standing at the head of the women. The men heard each stanza and responded in song. Behind was Miriam, close enough to hear the men, was a true pioneer and did the same.

Miriam repeated the song, stanza by stanza, just like the men. The women sang the song, stanza by stanza, just like the men. This was a first, a breakthrough. The women assumed equality and the men accepted it.

The women contributed more than the men in a special way. The men had only their voices. The women had their voices and timbrels. It is not clear exactly what these timbrels were. Often they are translated as drums. In more modern times, they are translated as tambourines. A modern tambourine has the metal clacking chimes all around its circumference, but it also has the equivalent of a drum skin across the top. In effect, the timbrels may have been a combination or both a drum and a tambourine.

There was still one problem with this song of rejoicing. Moses began the song exactly as Adonai had dictated it a few sentences earlier, beginning with, “I will sing to Adonai, for He has triumphed gloriously; Horse and driver he has hauled into the sea. ….” That line is in the Torah. We are sort of stuck with it, but we do not have to emphasize it.

When the Midrash for this portion was developed, the consensus was that HaShem criticized those chanting the beginning of this song, saying, “Those are My people drowning also. You cannot rejoice about My people drowning also.”

How to handle this dilemma, that the exact words are in Torah, but should not be embraced? Like many popular songs, the introduction leads to the refrain. The refrain is what we remember. Take “The Shadow of Your Smile,” the Academy Award winning song of 1966. Before we get to “The Shadow of Your Smile,” we hear, if the vocalist so chose, “One day we walked along the sand. One day in early spring, You held a piper in your hand, To mend its broken wing. Now I’ll remember many a day, And many a lonely mile. The echo of a piper’s song. The shadow of a smile.”

The midrash teaches us to de-emphasize the song’s lyrics rejoicing that the chariots and riders were tossed into the sea. The liturgists developing the modern siddur or prayer book, emphasized two major teachings from the lyrics of the Song at the Sea. One is Line 11, the Mi Chamocha. The Reform Gates of Prayer introduced the Mi Chamocha as, “When Israel saw Your might displayed in Egypt, they put their faith in You and in Moses Your servant. Now let all be free, and let them sing as Israel did at the shore of freedom’s sea: “Mi Chamocha … Who is like You, Eternal One, among the gods that are worshipped? ….” Here the middle of the song becomes its topic sentence.

Then, the liturgists developing the siddur took the last line of the song and made it the ultimate, the song’s climax: Adonai yimloch l’olam va’ed, “Adonai will reign for ever and ever!”

How do we know this is the last one of the Song at the Sea? The Torah does not have italic or quotes. The editor of the Chabad translation of the Song at the Sea placed a closed quote punctuation after the Mi Chamocha.

The Song at the Sea has become known as Miriam’s Song. Debbie Friedman (Z”L), the great modern liturgist-as-songwriter, gifted us with her version of “Miriam’s Song.” Its lyrics include:

“And the women dancing with their timbrels

Followed Miriam as she sang her song

Sing a song to the One whom we’ve exalted

Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long

….

And Miriam the prophet took her timbrel in her hand

And all the women followed her just as she had planned

And Miriam raised her voice in song

She sang with praise and might

We’ve just lived through a miracle

We’re going to dance tonight”

Miriam’s crucial role in this story is at least twofold then. One is to rescue baby Moses in a basket going down the river, or there might not have been a Moses and a story of Exodus. Two, is to empower the women to be equal, singing with the men, but also adding instruments.

Professor of Midrash at Hebrew Union College, Norman Cohen, commented on this in 2001. If the bread had to be yanked from its cooking to make the exodus, how did the women know about the instruments? Professor Cohen’s article is titled, “Miriam’s Song: A Modern Midrashic Reading.”

Professor Cohen expounds: “… where did they get the musical instruments in the desert? One can almost picture that, as the people hurriedly gathered their possessions and fled Egypt in the middle of the night, Miriam called back to the the women, saying: ‘Hannah, Sarah, don’t forget the drums … we’ll need them to celebrate our freedom.’ As a matter of fact, the Midrash, in interpreting this passage, emphasizes that the righteous are always prepared for the moment of redemption. Perhaps it is this sense of personal preparation which is the lesson that Miriam can teach us.”

For saving Moses’ life and for empowering women to sing in celebration, plus adding the timbrels, there are two reasons to consider Miriam for Best Supporting Role in the Exodus Story.

This year, for me, another line in the Haggadah has become very prominent. In Pirkei Avot 5:22, attributed to Ben Bag-Bag, we are taught, “Turn it over and turn it over, for everything it in it.” Torah does not change, but we are different every time we return to it. Just a few sheets of parchment before the Exodus story, we are reading about Joseph. One of Jewish history’s heroes and role models, Joseph saved Egypt from famine and rose to Viceroy. How did we get from there to pleading for release from slavery?

In the middle of the Seder, the leader is tasked with explaining the story of the Exodus from Egypt so that everyone present understands it. Here, the Haggadah text begins with, “There arose in Egypt a Pharaoh who did not know Joseph.” It is worth repeating. “There arose in Egypt a Pharaoh who did not know Joseph.” Indeed, know your roots. Know your history. Know from where you came. Leaders carry a torch that others carried before them.

May you have a zissen Pesach.

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The exile story for the Jewish people did not originate in Egypt. We celebrate Passover and study Torah only to discover that we continue to have micro exoduses. For even after the sea parts we are poured into the wilderness. How long does that last? When one accepts the continual journey of the filling and the emptying of what does not serve.

We are born into the garden. Some may call it paradise and some are eager to return. If we were never cast out we would still be living in God’s basement with a TV remote, made bed, laundry done, and dinner on the table. Without exile there is no maturation out of Neverland.

What if we don’t like the rules? We discover how to survive outside the garden. Our choices and discernment in the wilderness have life and death consequences. The underlying current that flows throughout is the realization that we are mortal and that we are going to die.

The good news is that we have the ability to use that understanding to really live. To experience life with new eyes. To choose life by surrounding ourselves with family, friends, loved ones, and community.

This is not an easy task. There are great challenges in the wilderness. It takes work to be in relationship especially with people who think differently than you do. It is a blessing to be able to maintain a healthy state in the midst of chaos.

Relationships can feel like exile. There have been times in my life where they wax and wane. I have found that the important ones are worth cultivating and sometimes weeding is necessary.

I truly believe that reconciliation is possible in exile when the two parties are willing to listen and to be respectful with one another. If this is too challenging it may be beneficial to establish healthy boundaries for a sense of shalom to exist. This changes the dynamic in the relationship and allows for a return to the garden with a new perspective.

I wonder if this is the true paradise.

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Memories of Individual Travels with my Parents 25 years apart.

When parents are gone and siblings are gone, and you yourself are “up in years” and confronted with health challenges, and realize that every day you’re alive is a gift and not a given, you reflect. It’s called memories.

So not to suggest that I have thought about this suddenly, but the memories become more relevant and urgent to express, particularly as I’m basically my own family now. There are of course a lifetime of memories. Among the most endearing are the many family trips taken as a child.

Here is something unique: Two trips taken as an adult with one parent each 25 years apart. The awareness is different, the playing field is different. There is an appreciation of the circumstances. As a child you just take what is given to you. As an adult you share and want to give. My appreciation of my relationship with each parent and realizing their joy gives me joy and meaning. This in the context of a vacation, that is not a travelogue, but the experience of relationship.

I loved both of my parents. My mother was easy to love. My father was not or not all the time. So find in the context of my trip with him being critical and the guilt comes up, but also how I came to terms with his domineering ways and still find the joy in our travel together.

The first trip was with my mother in the mid 1970s. I was 25-26. A planned trip with my roommate fell through. I think we were supposed to go to Nova Scotia. My mother felt my disappointment and offered to take a road trip with me.

I don’t know how we arrived at the decision, and probably I made the decision and she agreed. We used to go Maine many a summer for a week or two as a family. So that was part of it I think. The other part of it was our love of books and the idea to visit author homes in Concord, Massachusetts. My parents were originally from Massachusetts, but this is something neither of us had ever done.

I must pause here and say my mother and I were a lot alike. We shared all the time. We liked the same things. We agreed that we would not visit relatives in Massachusetts or announce that we were coming to the state. My grandparents were gone anyway. This was for us. So we went to see the home of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Louisa May Alcott, and others.

After that with no planned itinerary, we drove up into Southern Maine, which by the way, is not a place where we used to vacation – we used to go to a lake in Ellsworth, Maine because my father liked to go fishing, and tool around Central Maine and Bar Harbor.

Those trips were wonderful, too, and it wasn’t just about fishing, but my father was in charge. This time mom and I literally went where the wind blew us, which was the coastal road through Southern Maine and through all the little towns, like York and Kennebunkport, also tiny hamlets that had no famous tourist spots, just beautiful Maine scenery and whatever we happened upon. Like finding a craft show in a church or community basement. Lots of handmade jewelry. I think we bought the place out. We ate lots of seafood too.

At some point we decided it was time to double back. After all we lived pretty far, mom in South Jersey, and I was living in Philadelphia at the time. Then we got the crazy idea – I’m sure it was my crazy idea – to go back to Concord. We hadn’t seen all the author homes on the first go round! Mom was in total agreement. Let’s do that! And we did.

Although I said I remembered all the details, I lied or thought I remembered more. Just some of the details come back to me like a sepia photograph in my mind. The rest are lost to time, just the happy and relaxed feelings, how in sync we were, how free we both felt. Mom loved dad but she needed time away from him.

The dad trip. It was 2001 and significantly a month before 911. So it was August 2001. I was 50 in August 2001. As part of context, dad and I were both selling secondhand and rare books mostly on EBay, in dad’s case it was post retirement, post my mom’s long illness and passing a decade before. That was the catalyst, the books. Dad wanted to go to Maine to buy books as my parents had bought books and antiques when we used to go for summers in Maine.

It was unplanned, something to do in the afternoons after fishing, after lunch, take a ride down a country road and see what was there. What was there? Almost every house had a big white barn, we’re talking about the 1950s and 1960s, and those Mainers supplemented their income this way, selling their own stuff, selling antiques, and selling books. Whether they needed to do it or or was just a fun idea for them, I don’t know. Dad and I and a cousin tried to duplicate those trips with a trip to Maine to buy books in the 1990s and we did.

Dad wanted to do it again, but it was too long of a drive. He found out that airline prices were ridiculously high and he looked up London. We could fly to London for less than it cost to fly to Bangor, Maine! In dad’s adventurous spirit, which was still alive and well, he said do you want to go to London? I had been before, and he had been as a merchant marine in the 1930s, but I jumped on the bandwagon and said let’s do it! It wasn’t specifically to buy books but to have a vacation.

Dad floored me by asking me to come up with the itinerary. In an alternate life I guess I should have been a travel agent, and if social media had existed at the time been a travel influencer!

I do because of the time difference, remember more of these details. Dad did leave the itinerary up to me, but being dad, he fought me, particularly on accommodations. He wanted to go cheap, cheap, cheap and there were no Air BnBs, mainly no cheap, cheap, cheat. I had stayed in bed and breakfasts myself in 1989. There was fledgling internet. The accommodations issue almost killed the trip. I had a bad feeling it was going to be a disaster from the start and it almost was.

We got to London. Dad would not “allow” us to take a minivan into London from the airport, and remember we had luggage and we were exhausted with the travel. We “had to” take public transportation.

We were taking the tube, a half hour trip into the city from Heathrow during rush hour, 8 o’clock local time. The saving grace – we got on in the beginning and there were plenty of seats. As we got through stop after stop more people piled on, and we were at risk of being trapped. We had to beg our way off at our stop. Luckily, the stereotypically polite British let us out.

Then we walked and we walked and we walked until we got to our row house of a hotel – they call them terraces in Britain. We walked in and found out that it was a dirty crumbling hole in the wall and looked more like a frat house, where young guys/college students would crash for the night, several to a room. Dad and I looked to each other in horror, and told the manager in what looked like a cross between a bridge toll booth or movie theater booth that we couldn’t stay there. He looked surprised but said OK. Then dad turned to me and asked what are we going to do? This from a dad who always had an answer, but he was now in his 80s, still good, still trying, but not the same. I was sad, but I didn’t have a lot of time to reflect on that.

There were two things going for us.

One, it was August, and although hot, it was London, not South Jersey.

Second, I remembered in our long walk to find the dump that we had passed a Comfort Inn.

I said dad, Comfort Inn is an American hotel or motel. Let’s go back there and ask. We didn’t have cell phones or internet, as I said. It was an unfamiliar neighborhood, although inside London, so we walked again with the luggage. The Comfort Inn had openings for the rest of the week – it was a Tuesday – but we would have to move on the weekend as they were booked. They changed their mind by the weekend and let us stay the whole time.

Things started looking up. We were treated very well there. One little incident. I have not experienced much antisemitism in my life. I guess you could say I’m lucky. I was coming down the elevator for breakfast one morning at the Comfort Inn. There was a British couple in the elevator. We nodded and said good morning. In the dining room I met dad.

As I was passing the British couple’s table, I heard them say in a low but still audible voice, Jewish, and they nodded their heads in my direction. I felt like screaming. It was a small thing, but I had not been exposed to this before or hardly. I didn’t reply and kept on walking. In my head I came up with different scenarios. I would say, yes, what about it? Or yes, I’m a very proud Jew? Or yes, thank God I’m a Jew. None of that happened. I didn’t even tell dad. A few years later on a job a situation came up where a person made a remark in the lunch room not knowing that I was Jewish, and that time I answered and rebutted and she apologized.

So what did we do?

Every day I had laid out a set itinerary in advance and dad loved it and agreed to everything! Shocking, but true! The first day was one of the most touching and memorable experiences. We were totally jet lagged, but I had noticed from the guidebooks that there was such a thing as Czech Torah scrolls in a museum of sorts in a synagogue in London.

You could not just go there. You had to call ahead. So we went. I don’t remember the name of the synagogue but it was near Royal Albert Hall – we did not get to visit that.

We called and we got lost, but eventually got there. The reason we had to call ahead it was the year of one of the Intifadas in Israel. They were on alert even in London. A woman came to the door of the synagogue and went through several locks to open the door to let us in.

On the second floor laid out on shelves were burned Torah scrolls from the Holocaust, each labeled with the towns they had come from. There were no words. We stood in silence and looked and lightly touched. Some were repaired or the hope was that they were going to be repaired, but it was sort of like a Genizah of Torah scrolls. We signed our names in a book and made a contribution. Our synagogue of the time, TBS, had been there and bought one of the Torah scrolls, we learned.

So the rest of the trip: One day it was the Tower of London and Westminster Abbey. Another day it was Greenwich and the museum with the clocks, the Greenwich mean time line, and the sailing instruments. Another day it was Richmond, where we visited Henry the Eighth’s castle. Dad by the way wanted to buck every line. He thought he could argue his way to the front, but the guides in charge would not give way. I either inwardly cowered or would whisper, dad, dad, no, you can’t do that! Be patient. Wait. We’ll get in.

Another day we went to Notting Hill, that Notting Hill, where the film Four Weddings and a Funeral took place with Hugh Grant. We went there because on the weekends they had a famous flea market. Dad totally embarrassed me by haggling for what seemed like forever with a couple. We bought a few things. I mostly wandered away so I didn’t have to stand there and witness the haggling. Again, the whispering, dad, no. That didn’t work, but we did make some great purchases.

You ask what about the books or bookstores? The famous used and rare bookshops were on Charing Cross Road in Central London. That was a bust. You felt watched all the time and the prices – well they felt like they had a captive audience. We couldn’t buy anything or feel comfortable even looking.

So in Greenwich we hit the jackpot after we did the Greenwich mean time tour, and this was a surprise. The best things are when you don’t expect them, I mean the good best things of course. We wandered through the town and saw a tiny hole in the wall book shop. Should we go in? Should we not go in?

Again, dad surprised me by leaving it up to me. I wavered. All right, I said. Let’s go in. I must have spent 5 or 10 minutes and sat down. It was a used and rare bookstore, but it wasn’t clicking for me. On the other hand it was clicking for dad. The long and short of it, dad and the owner established a connection, and dad went back at least once, maybe twice to London and bought out a lot of the store as the owner invited him to look at the stock in the basement.

It was shipped back to the United States. Dad did very well. He was happy. The owner was happy. There were rare books dad left to me after he passed away from that lot, and had said, here, you know what to do with these after I’m gone, you decide, and I did.

What did we eat? Mostly, we ate in an Israeli takeout that we stumbled on in the neighborhood of London where the Comfort Inn was. It was a hole in the wall, but we’d sit at one of the two little tables and eat the most delicious food made by two Israeli brothers. We met a British-Greek woman eating there. She heard our American accents and asked to join us. We’re friends to this day.

There is also a Chinatown in London in Soho for those of you who know it. I may be mixing it up with another trip because we went back after 911 with another friend of mine.

A couple of incidents worth noting.

As I said, this was a month before 9/11. Every morning a tabloid paper was left at our door, probably the Daily Mail. I quickly realized that a lot of what was written was bunk. However, something chilling and seemingly true caught my eye, not reported in American papers. There was a list of numbers of immigrants to Britain and from which countries. Alarming numbers. The highest was from Iraq.

They said refugees were living in tents on the Iraqi border. There were also large numbers of refugees from different countries, mostly the Middle East, getting to France, and then trying to legally or illegally cross the English Channel. They said they wanted to take their chances in the UK rather than an uncertain future in France. This was what was reported, anyway.

The other thing is a small thing, but telling in retrospect. In the neighborhood we were staying I wanted to go to a nail salon. I found a time and made an appointment. The manager was very congenial, but as I was sitting getting my nails done, a man in traditional Arab garb walked in, and somehow got in a whispered conversation in Arabic with the manager. The man wanted to know who I was or what I was doing there. I don’t know entirely how I knew this, as the only word I understood was American, but they both looked in my direction.

So London was and probably still is famous for its walking tours. In 2001 you could choose a walking tour 365 days a week for $5.00 each with an excellent tour guide. So of course our top choice was the Jewish East End walking tour. Again, pictures come to mind, not all of the details. I know we walked through the former Spitalfield Market, Petticoat Lane, Whitehall, and finally to Aldgate where we came to the highlight: The Bevis Marks Synagogue. The Hebrew name is Sharei Shamaim — the Gates of Heaven, built in 1701. It is still standing and in use. It’s an Orthodox Sephardic synagogue, similar to, but not exactly a replica of the Sephardic synagogue in Amsterdam. It is said that influences were also Spanish style churches of the time and the famous St. Paul’s Cathedral built by Christopher Wren. Jews were being allowed back into the UK after being expelled for about 300 years, and many were living in Amsterdam and wanted to relocate to England and they wanted a synagogue. There were still Jews — Conversos who wanted to get out of Spain and Portugal, and they too flooded the UK.

The ark is Renaissance style. Panels are painted to look like marble, but are in fact, oak. There are seven hanging brass candelabra symbolizing the seven days of the week, the central candelabrum donated by the Great Synagogue in Amsterdam, the Ner Tamid made of silver that was installed in 1876, and twelve pillars representing the twelve tribes of Israel in the women’s gallery. Just a few of the details and the flavor.

There are still small numbers of Jews living in the East End—you can look up the numbers—but since World War II they have scattered to various other parts of the city.

I can say two things about these trips, which I guess you can say about a lot of life.

Experiences lead to other experiences. They grow tentacles, a lot unexpected. The other is the love of a parent and my love for them. To see their joy as well as my own, their generosity, their love for me, there are no words.

As long as I am alive, these memories are alive, and now they’re written down, too.

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I get it! Finally.

“I am now one hundred and twenty years old …” That’s Moses, not me. He goes on, “I can no longer be active.” That’s almost me. I’m still fairly active for my four score and six years. And all those years ago, the week I was born, Va-Yeilekh was the Torah portion read and from it, Moses speaks to me now. At a retreat in the late 1980s, Rabbi Ted Falcon shared our birth portions. Since then, curious about my birth portion, I’ve dipped into it from time to time, but Moses’ words didn’t touch me. I’d quickly go on to something else. Today, his words hit home.

In Va-Yeilekh, Moses reminds the Israelites that God will not let him go across the Jordan into the ‘promised land’, that his leadership is at an end, and that Joshua will lead them into the land. He faces his limits and prepares for those who follow. Same for me.

Limits abound. I, who used to run for miles, find my breath coming hard after I climb the forty-three steps in our home. Tired more frequently, I’m doing smaller travels to friends and family but hesitating on the bigger trips. Experienced COVID at end of the last two overseas ventures. I delight in the flowers and fruits in the roof deck garden but put off carrying new potting mix up those stairs. I enjoy working with clients, almost always seeing changes in a good direction, but now, the end of the workday appears quite desirable.

Leadership has shifted. Seders in our home are smaller, Open Door Shabbat is no longer, and there are fewer folks to hang out with. Family gatherings happen mostly in our kids’ homes.

Then we read: “The Lord said to Moses” The time is drawing near for you to die.” Read in my fifties, so what! Now, at 86, that’s real!!! My finish line looms. Moses knew the exact day, I don’t. But it is near, and somehow, I find that very manageable. It heightens my sense of what’s important and makes difficult choices easier. We’ve purchased plots, informed kids, and recently visited the lawyer to update wills and powers of attorney. Preparing makes an easier transition for our kids.

OK, there’s got to be some good news in all this. Of course. Moses tells the Israelites, “Be strong and resolute, be not in fear or dread …” He repeats this twice and assures them that God will be with them, not forsaking them, not failing them. “Fear not and be not dismayed!” Good words to hear and even better words to sink into my heart when falls, hurts, and earth shakings happen.

Moses drops into details. Debts must be remitted in the seventh year. The Torah must be read to everyone every year – men, women, children and strangers. ‘Everyone’ is unusually inclusive for Torah. But then again, we all die. Nor will things go smoothly, for as God foresees, these stiff-necked Israelites are planning to sneak forbidden goodies, to do their own thing. I also find myself avoiding and dallying. Stiff-necked me.

Torah is smart. It responds to human fallibility, as God instructs Moses: “Therefore, write down this poem and teach it to the people of Israel; put it in their mouths …”. Transmit a map. Give people guidelines. Share what you have experienced. And I’ve been writing my life experiences, connecting them with world history, psychological development and spiritual growth. This writing has gifted me a perspective on my abilities and limits, regrets and gifts. Sharing it with my family is important. As with Moses, it’s my experiences, not theirs. At best, it’s a useful map.

“Gather to me all the elders of your tribes and your officials, that I may speak all these words to them . . ..” Caring and sharing are good traveling companions along our life journey. Over decades, my eyes have perused these very same words from my Torah birth portion. Yet, I was unable to see what you’ve just read – until now.

Torah quotes in order: Deuteronomy 31:2, 31:6 and 7, 31:8, 31:14, 31:10-13, 31:28.

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As we journey through life, planning for the future often takes center stage. One critical yet frequently misunderstood aspect of this planning is Long Term Care (LTC) insurance. With the aging population growing and healthcare costs rising, understanding the realities of LTC insurance is more crucial than ever. Let’s dispel some common myths and uncover the facts about Long Term Care insurance.

Myth 1: “Medicare and Medicaid will cover all my Long Term Care needs.”Fact: This is one of the most pervasive myths about Long Term Care. While Medicare may cover short-term care such as rehabilitation after surgery or a brief hospital stay, it does not cover long-term custodial care. Medicaid, on the other hand, may cover long-term care, but it is means-tested. This means you must exhaust most of your assets before qualifying for coverage. Long Term Care insurance is designed to fill this gap, providing coverage for extended care in various settings, including your home, assisted living facilities, and nursing homes.

Myth 2: “Long Term Care insurance is only for the elderly.”Fact: Although it’s true that the need for Long Term Care increases with age, planning for it should begin much earlier. Purchasing a policy when you are younger and healthier can significantly lower your premiums. Moreover, unexpected events such as accidents or illnesses can result in the need for long-term care at any age. By securing a policy early, you can protect yourself against these unforeseen circumstances.

Myth 3: “I don’t need Long Term Care insurance because I have a strong family support system.”Fact: While it’s wonderful to have a supportive family, relying solely on them for long-term care can be unrealistic and burdensome. The physical, emotional, and financial strain of caregiving can be overwhelming. Long Term Care insurance provides professional care options, which can alleviate the pressure on family members and ensure you receive the best possible care without depleting your family’s resources.

Myth 4: “Long Term Care insurance is too expensive.”Fact: The cost of Long Term Care insurance can be a concern, but it’s important to weigh this against the potential costs of long-term care itself. The average annual cost of a private room in a nursing home can exceed $100,000, and these costs are only expected to rise. Investing in a Long Term Care policy can provide substantial financial protection and peace of mind.

Additionally, there are various policy options and features available, allowing you to tailor coverage to your budget and needs.

Myth 5: “I’ll never need Long Term Care.”Fact: Many people underestimate their risk of needing long-term care. Statistics show that about 70% of individuals over the age of 65 will require some form of long-term care services during their lifetime. Ignoring this possibility can lead to significant financial and emotional stress for you and your loved ones. Having a Long Term Care insurance policy ensures you are prepared for any eventuality.

Myth 6: “All Long Term Care insurance policies are the same.”Fact: Long Term Care insurance policies can vary widely in terms of coverage, benefits, and cost. It’s essential to thoroughly research and compare policies to find one that best suits your needs. Key factors to consider include the daily benefit amount, the benefit period, inflation protection, and the elimination period (the waiting period before benefits begin). Consulting with a knowledgeable insurance agent or financial advisor can help you navigate these options and make an informed decision.

ConclusionUnderstanding the facts about Long Term Care insurance is crucial for making informed decisions about your future. It’s not just about protecting your financial assets; it’s about ensuring you have the resources and support needed to maintain your dignity, independence, and quality of life as you age. By dispelling these common myths, we hope to empower you to consider Long Term Care insurance as a valuable component of your overall financial and healthcare planning.

For more information on Long Term Care insurance and other essential planning topics, please contact Mark at Tonoff Financial Services: mark@tonofffinancial.com or (609) 707-0094.

Remember, the best time to plan for tomorrow is today.

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פרשת אמור

ויקרא Leviticus 21:1 to 24:23

Note: The previous sections detailed the commandments handed down to the entire nation. Here we are introduced to the commandments directed at the priestly class. Although the functional duties of the priestly class and the Levites ended with the destruction of the Second Temple, they retain, by heredity (male lineage), certain religious prerogatives, obligations, and prohibitions. Reform Judaism does not recognize these distinctions.

Chapter 21 – Behavior expected of the high priests (Verses 1 through 9)

This section details the behavior expected of the priests (כהנים), that is, the surviving sons of Aaron (and their descendants).

Note: Traditional Jews interpret the prohibition against defiling oneself by contact with a dead person as prohibiting Cohanim from entering a cemetery except to bury a close blood relative. Verse 7 prohibits a Cohen from marrying a divorced woman, a prohibition that traditional Jews observe today; a halachic ruling upheld by the Chief Rabbinate in Israel that is the cause of much tsorus and personal tragedy.

Restrictions placed upon the high priests (Verses 10 through 15)

These verses detail further restrictions fall on the High Priest (הכהן הגדול). Particularly note that he may only marry a virgin. He cannot marry a widow, a rape victim, a divorced woman, or a prostitute.

Disqualifications for a priest with a defect (Verses 16 through 24)

A priest that has a physical defect (מום) is disqualified from performing the sacrificial services. His sole privilege is permission to share in eating the sacrificial offerings. Verse 23 is extremely harsh to our contemporary ears: “He shall not enter behind the curtain or come near the altar, for he has a defect. He shall not profane these places sacred to me, for I the Lord have sanctified them (אך אל הפרכת לא יבא ואל המזבח לא ייגש כי מום בו ולא יחלל את מקדשי כי אני ה’ מקדשם)

Why is that? Presuming even the person with the physical defect was created in the image of G-d (בצלם ה’), why would he a priori be excluded from the Temple rites? Perhaps the intent was to assure that the priests do not indulge in the mutilation practices that many religious leaders and servants among the surrounding peoples engaged in (such as castration). Note that there is no spiritual requirement, only a physical one. Does that mean that the high priest can be a real SOB and still qualify on condition that he does not have a physical defect? One possibility is that this reflects a pre-scientific belief that a physical disability is (or may be) divine punishment for past sins.

Note (Verse 24): Even though the following instructions relate solely to the priests, they are given to all the people. Why is that? Perhaps the priests cannot be trusted to enforce such severe (and seemingly unfair) measures among their own kin.

Chapter 22 – Partaking of the sacred donations (Verses 1 through 16)

Here Moses relays G-d’s instructions to the priests regarding rules for partaking of the sacred donations, as well as who must refrain from partaking.

Instructions for sacrificial offerings (Verses 17 through 33)

Here are G-d’s instructions to the people regarding sacrificial offerings. Why the prohibition against offering sacrificial animals with defects (line 23: a small relaxation is made for free offerings)? Perhaps the idea is that an offering of a less valued animal as a sacrifice means that the offering is given grudgingly, not wholeheartedly. Note Verses 26 to 28 require some basic humane treatment of animals. Note the commandment in Verse 32 not to profane G-d’s holy name. This gives rise to the traditional custom not to use any of the names of G-d outside of prayer or study, but instead use the indirect term Hashem (השם – The Name).

Chapter 23 – The festivals (Verses 1 through 8)

In this chapter, G-d is setting forth the festivals (מועדים) and fixing their time in the Hebrew priestly calendar. First is the weekly Sabbath (שבת), a day of rest where you are not permitted to work. What constitutes work is not defined here and it is up to the Rabbis of the Talmud to give exact definitions. Also, a seven-day festival is defined, the first day of which is Passover (פסח), the following day being the Matzoh Festival (חג המצות). The seventh day shall be an (as yet unnamed) holiday. On each of these days, work is prohibited. During the entire festival, Matzoh shall be eaten. Note that this section does not proscribe that leavened bread must not be eaten, although the prohibition does appear in Exodus 13:7 and in Deuteronomy.

Counting the Omer (Verses 9 through 22)

Here we have the injunction to bring the first sheaf (עמר – Omer) of the (barley) harvest to the priest. Both the offeror and the priest shall wave it. Following that day, seven weeks (49 days) are counted off and then the new grain, two (wheat) loaves, are offered to the priests. While not named as such here, this became the festival of Shavuot (שבועות – weeks). A literal reading of Verse 11 (“… on the day after Sabbath” – ממחרת השבת) may lead to the assumption that, according to the priestly calendar, the holiday was always observed on a Sunday. Rabbinic sources contend that here, “Sabbath” refers not to Sabbath but to the first day of Passover. Indeed, the Karaites, to this day do observe Shavuot on a Sunday. The seven-week counting of the Omer (ספירת העמר) begins following the first day of Passover. Some sects in the past began the counting upon the conclusion of Passover, as do the present-day Ethiopian Jews.

We can note a repeat of the injunction from chapter 19 to leave the edges of the field (at least one sixtieth of the field according to the Mishnah) unharvested for the poor and the stranger. Later commentators added that the landowner does not have exclusive ownership of his holding. He has a social responsibility to share (at least the edges of his land) with the poor and the strangers in his midst.

The Rabbis of the Talmud infused the holiday with greater religious significance, as commemorating the giving of Torah at Mount Sinai. There is no reference to this in the Torah itself, or even in the Mishna for that matter.

Day of Atonement (Verses 23 through 32)

Commandments as to when and how to observe a day of rest (unnamed here), now known as Rosh Hashanah (ראש השנה), followed ten days later by the solemn day of atonement (יום הכפורים – Yom HaKippurim). The reference to loud blasts (תרועה) was interpreted as the shofar sound that today intersperses the Rosh Hashana service and marks the end of the Day of Atonement.

Festival of Booths – (Verses 33 through 44)

Here we have the Festival of Booths (חג הסוכות – Succoth). While this seven-day holiday marks the completion of the harvest, it is given added significance with all the people commanded to live in booths. Verse 43 supports the interpretation that this is how the Israelites supposedly lived on the journey out of Egypt. This may be unlikely as nomadic people (such as the remaining nomadic Bedouin of today) usually live in tents as opposed to difficult to schlepp booths.

Chapter 24 – Maintaining a lighted torch (Verses 1 through 9)

We have the commandment to maintain a lighted torch (נר תמיד) outside the tent of meeting. From this passage, we have the present-day eternal light that is in front of, and above the ark holding the Torah scrolls (relatively recent custom, not law). Note that the lighted torch outside the tent of meeting must burn from evening to morning while the contemporary eternal light never goes out (unless the bulb burns out). While an eternal light is expected in Reform and Conservative synagogues, not all orthodox synagogues have one.

The blasphemer (Verses 10 through 16)

The story of the blasphemer. We are not told explicitly what he said that was so terrible. Why do you think the Torah mentions that he is “only” half Israelite? Is this a warning as to the possible consequences of a mixed marriage? Doesn’t this contradict the later halacha that rules that if his mother is Israelite, he is a member of the tribe? His punishment was to be stoned. Would this have been the fate of a full Israelite? Probably so, as this punishment (stoning to death) is here proscribed on the whole people.

Basis for criminal law (Verses 17 through 23)

Now we have the penalty of death for intentional homicide and monetary restitution for killing an animal. For other crimes, an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth (Lex Talionis – retaliatory justice or simply measured revenge) must be the verdict. Do you think that the intent of the Torah is that this is to be taken literally? The language is concise and unambiguous and doesn’t seem to provide leeway for other interpretations or rationalizations. None the less, the Rabbis of the Talmud and subsequent interpreters and commentators from all the religious streams are virtually unanimous in agreement that this refers to monetary compensation only.

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When an intermediate day of Passover (חול המועד פסח) falls on a Shabbat, in place of the weekly Torah reading (פרשת השבוע), the following two Torah portions are read: Exodus (שמות) 33:12 to 34:26 and Numbers (במדבר) 28:16 to 28:25. If more than one torah scroll is available, customarily each portion would be read from a separate scroll.

Portion One: Read from Book of Exodus (שמות)

Chapter 33 – Moses is allowed to view a hint of Gd’s glory (Verses 12 through 23)

Here (33:18), Moses makes what may seem like an outlandish request from Gd: He (Moses) said “please show me your greatness (glory may be a more fitting translation” (ויאמר הראני נא את כבדך).

Perhaps, like his kinsmen in constructing the golden calf, Moses wanted the reassurance of a god that was visible and approachable. In response we have an anthropomorphic description of Gd. Is this intended to be taken literally? Why cannot man see His Face and live? Would the knowledge or realization be too overpowering or “mind blowing” for a mortal to behold?

Note that Moses is not so humble after all, and dares to make demands of Gd.

The late Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks interpreted this section as declaring that man cannot presume to fully know or understand the mind of Gd or why he delivers or withholds grace. Rabbi Sacks further states that Stephen Hawking was mistaken in stating that even if we could obtain a full understanding of the working of the cosmos (if such a thing is even possible) we would still not understand “the mind of Gd”. Of course, Hawkins, like Einstein, used the term “Gd” euphemistically.

Chapter 34 – Moses alights the mountain a second time (Verses 1 through 7)

Moses must prepare a second set of stone tablets. The first set was prepared by Gd. Since Moses smashed them, he is responsible to prepare a second set. Is this a form of penance?

Moses alights a second time up Mount Sinai. Gd passes before him. From the Hebrew (34:6 “ה’ ה’ אל רחום וחנון ארך אפים ורב חסד ואמת …”), it is not clear whether Gd or Moses proclaims ” … Gd compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, …”. Is this truly a description of the Gd of the Torah? These lines have been inserted in the High Holidays liturgy. Perhaps it is not so much an assertion of Gd’s characteristics but a plea for Gd to act in such a manner towards us. In contemporary terms, this may be a plea to Gd to “cut us some slack”. Your thoughts?

34:7 is usually translated as ” … visits the iniquity of the fathers upon the children … upon the third and fourth generation ( פקד עון אבות …).” Is the intent that descendants bear personal guilt or is responsibility a better translation? The (orthodox) Artscroll edition translates עון as “recalling the iniquity”.

Gd makes a covenant with the Israelites (Verses 8 through 17) Moses again appeals to Gd to pardon His people. Gd makes a covenant, promising to drive out the inhabitants of the land promised to them. There is a warning to the Israelites to beware of fraternization with them as they will be ensnared in their ways. Not a very politically correct section! The section also contains a warning (34:14) that he is either a jealous or an impassioned Gd (depending on how you translate קנא).

Listing of commands (Verses 18 through 26)

Verse 18 – Seven-day Festival of Matzoh (חג המצות) to commemorate the exodus from Egypt

Verse 19 to 20 – Every male firstborn, livestock or human, belongs to Gd. Sons to be redeemed (source for פדיון הבן ceremony observed by traditional Jewish communities).

Verse 21 – Sabbath is a day of rest, even during plowing and harvest time.

Verse 22 – Observance of Festival of Weeks or Shavuot (חג שבועות) to commemorate the first offerings of the wheat harvest. (Note: Following the Babylonian exile, Rabbis designated Shavuot to commemorate the giving of Torah).

Verse 23 to 24 – Three pilgrimage festivals for all the males (no reference to females – sorry ladies), the (unrealistic) promise of divine protection of the frontiers during these holidays.

Verse 25 – The sacrificial holiday of Passover (זבח חג הפסח), here distinct from Festival of Matzoh.

Verse 26 – Command to bring the first fruits to the temple and one of the three times the Torah entreats us not to boil a kid in its mother’s milk.

Portion two: Read from the Book of Numbers (במדבר)

Chapter 28 – Obligatory Passover sacrifices (Verses 16 through 25)

Gd dictates to Moses detailed instructions for S the obligatory sacrifices to be offered during the Passover pilgrimage festival. No explanations are offered as to the reasons for the offerings, the protocols, or the contents.

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Weeping in Ramallah for her exiled children
Was not the first time Rachel wept.
Blistering tears ran down her ashen face,
When Laban told her of his plan,
To put her weak eyed sister in her stead.

Her father did not know of love,
At least not the love that she and Jacob knew.
So begging him to let her wed for love,
Was to no avail.
Her father was the master in her world,
And any man, save Jacob, would be too.
So in her youthful pain she ran,
Blurting out her threat to tell.
But she was caught,
Held and guarded,
Till the wedding feast was past.

Confined, she wept at the deception,
Not understanding the balances on to which Jacob had been placed.
Not knowing that deception begets deception.
And the judgment was on him
(For an ill begotten blessing),
With an ill begotten wife.)
But what did Rachel know of balances
And mothers and sons who deceive fathers and brothers.
She only knew of longing and of love,
And did not care for ways a maiden
Could not fully comprehend.

At the wedding feast, her Jacob did not know,
The heavy veil concealed a father’s strategy.
The wedding tent was dark and his beloved,
Strangely silent.
Perhaps it is her modesty, he thought,
So much to learn about his lovely wife.
Yet his partner hid her face and said it was their custom.
And so he held her, loved her,
Her loving touch became the touch of Rachel,
But the voice was the voice of Leah.
More deception in a life of deception,
In a world where deceit meant living or dying.
Of having or not having.

It was fair. The world was putting things in order.
Jacob, who had deceived was now deceived.
Things were even, now
To all but Rachel,
Who fell to her knees,
And wept,
Outside her sister’s wedding tent.

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As a survivor of a fatal car accident that killed my parents, I can feel the pain of being helpless in time of trauma while I laid in the street unable to move or assist my Mother and Father. This past week my family has begged me to stop watching CNN 14/16 hours a day and give my emotions a rest. With my journalism background and as a news junkie, that’s not an option for me.

So imagine my surprise waking up this morning to CNN as a blacked out screen on all 3 of my TVs! All the other channels were working, just not CNN! I ran from room to room turning the TVs on and off!

I couldn’t help wondering if divine intervention was sending me a message to stop watching so much devastating news. That thought lasted about a second. I thought I’d give the TVs an hour to rest to see if they would reboot and restore my source of news. Didn’t happen.

I then spent half an hour on the phone with a nice Comcast man in some far off land who resolved the issue. He could not believe that it was ONLY CNN that was blacked out!

My takeaway: I do believe I was being sent a message and this is it: I can send my prayers to Israelis and Americans as a fellow Jew, I can donate money to various organizations to help assist in Israel but what I believe is the most important Mitzvah (good deed) I can do is to LISTEN TO THE STORIES OF ALL THE SURVIVORS WHO ARE ABLE TO FACE CAMERAS AND SHARE THE ABHORRENT ORDEAL THEY EXPERIENCED!

ALLOW THEIR VOICES TO BE HEARD!

ALLOW THEIR VOICES TO BE HEARD!

ALLOW THEIR VOICES TO BE HEARD!

Living within their traumatic experiences right now, and feeling helpless, their voices and stories are all they have to give.

I believe it is our responsibility to give them the opportunity to talk, scream, cry and share their mourning process of the unimaginable horror of the reality of terror and trauma they experienced. G-d willing, our listening can offer them some solace and comfort, if it’s at all possible that they will ever achieve any sense of calm and peace.

May the memories of the murdered souls be a blessing to their loved ones and to all of us so we never forget. May the survivors someday find tranquility.

And please G-d/Universe, may the hostages return safely to their families and to the world. Dayenu. Enough. Amen.

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When a grandparent must endure the pain of the death of a grandchild, the pain is intensified when the grandparent — by virtue of NOT being a direct mourner — feels isolated and distant from the shiva house.

Mourning the loss of a beloved grandchild is so difficult – add to that seeing your child mourning the death of their child — incomprehensible.

Seeing YOUR child’s name AND your grandchild’s name on the same matzevah is unfathomable. In this shiva house, in this, the home of my child, oddly, I sit without anything spiritual to bring comfort or peace to my soul. There is nothing for me to hold on to, as I walk through this valley of deepest darkness.

This shiva house belongs to my son and daughter-in-law, as it must be.

The Kaddish prayer the Rabbi offers them, is their spiritual hanger to hang their tears on, as it should be.

The rabbi that leads the service addresses them in their time of need, as it should be.

The wonderful, thoughtful sensitive visitors upon entering the house, give the parents words of comfort first, as they should.

The needed and considerate trays of food arrive at the Shiva house for the direct mourners, the parents, as it should be.

All 7 days, the shiva house is busy, as it should be.

YET —

As a grandparent — It was also MY heart that was wrenched and shattered upon learning of the death of my beloved grandchild.

It was also MY very being that was overcome in anguish when I saw MY son’s tortured face as the aron was lowered.

It was also MY sorrow seeing the pain in the faces of MY other grandchildren.

It is MY heart that screamed silently as it watched MY son say Kaddish for his son.

The trauma of the death is carved into MY very soul.

It is MY complete and utter feeling of being totally stranded in a sea of pain and sadness — where there is no ritual, tradition, custom or even prayer for grandparents to hang our tears on.

A grandparent may feel completely and utterly stranded in a sea of pain and sadness — where there is no ritual, tradition, custom or even prayer for grandparents to hang our tears on.

What bit of consolation can a grandparent find in a shiva house for which we are — understandably, and realistically — removed from most of the shiva rituals, and are perhaps more like onlookers, apart and looking in?

And so, I offer my own prayer for grandparents at this unbearably difficult, exquisitely painful and most agonizing time.

ZACHOR Prayer for Unacknowledged Mourners

G-d, It was always our earnest prayer that our children be spared all pain and suffering.

We yearned — May this be your will.

G-d, It was always our impassioned prayer that our children all warrant peace and serenity in their lives.

We yearned — May this be your will.

G-d, It was always our fervent prayer that you, the Almighty, see to it that our children are unhampered by illness or tragedy.

We yearned — May this be your will.

But, today we are devastated — all our heartfelt prayers have gone unheeded!!

We are devastated — all our hopes, dreams, and wishes for this grandchild have evaporated into nothingness!

We are devastated — as all our fierce petitions for his safety and health were for naught!!

We are devastated – Hashem, weren’t you listening??? Didn’t you hear my cries and supplications to keep, safeguard and protect my beloved grandchild???

Though I prayed with all my heart, my heart has been ripped apart

Though I prayed with great kavanah that my grandchild be well and healthy, my very soul has been fractured

Though I prayed with total emunah … I am overwhelmed and totally brokenhearted that my beloved grandchild has left this life ……

I am distraught that my pleas and petitions fell on deaf ears!!!

Adonai, we beseech you to allow us, the grandparents, to be strong for OUR children, to be stalwart for the sake of the other grandchildren and yet to be kind to ourselves in our own grief

May we all find, in due time, the strength to move forward with kindness, patience and tolerance

G-d, please, PLEASE – grant menuchah nechonah — a true rest, to my beloved grandchild and may he soar ON the wings of Shechinah —

AMEN

I am shattered and beside myself with grief 4 times over — once for having to witness my own child’s pain saying good bye to their child, and then for my own pain saying goodbye to my beloved grandchild.

Once more, watching the mother/father searching to make sense of her/his loss of child, and then, once again, being faced with the siblings who just do not understand.

This is NOT the right order. There is something definitely amiss when a doting, loving grandmother (grandfather) will not be needed any longer to tell stories of the past to her/his beloved grandchild, or to see that special smile when I may say “YES” after they may had heard “NO.”

I am beyond distraught and I am heavily burdened with the onus of realizing I AM old and “here”, and they ARE young and “there!!”

My heart is so very, very heavy — I am in need of a ritual, a rite, a prayer to lift my hands to the skies….

I stuff my tears down deep to appear strong for my child.

I see my child suffering and in pain and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that I can do, to ease their way.

Ribbono Shel Olam — please help all of us to carry this intense heavy burden of loss without any additional hurdles.

Hashem, Please — without delay — allow healing of our spirit and healing of our hearts as we begin to accept what we cannot change

Adonai, we beseech you to allow us, the grandparents, to be strong for OUR children, to be stalwart for the sake of the other grandchildren and yet to be kind to ourselves in our own grief.

May we all find, in due time, the strength to move forward with kindness, patience and tolerance.

G-d, please, PLEASE — grant menuchah nechonah — a true rest, to my beloved grandchild and may he soar ON the wings of Shechinah

AMEN

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At a recent dinner with friends, the discussion became heated with how we, as Baby Boomers, deal with the overwhelming changes we must endure. The comments were varied, some with outraged anger, others were, “What changes?” while a few were, “That’s life!” The comments seemed to be about health, money, travel, moving and children while some expressed that, “Life couldn’t be better!”

One woman had recently become widowed and though she was relieved that her very sick husband was now out of pain, she was infuriated that after 55 years of marriage he had never taught her how to manage their finances. When she did inquire about money, he told her never to worry about such matters. So she never worried — until now, because she had no clue about their bank accounts, how much money they actually had because spending money was never a problem. She did not know how to pay a bill, taxes or where to even look for their banking and asset information. Her only child lived out of the country and was no help to her. She felt great anger with her husband for keeping her in the dark, whether it was a loving gesture or if he thought she was not smart enough to understand.

Most of my dinner friends kvetched about the aches and pains of aging and how they were limited in what used to be their normal activities. One gentleman actually bragged about his prowess at tennis, golf and swimming. He had engaged in these activities weekly for his entire life and now could barely do pickle ball. He actually admitted that this was a failure of his manliness and was very depressed at his limitations.

One fellow kept saying, “That’s life! What are you going to do?” Someone finally confronted him and said we have to look beyond that it’s just life, and “Make productive changes; that we must consider the patterns of our behaviors and check if we continually make wrong decisions without accountability. “That’s psychobabble,” he threw back, “Sometimes you are blessed with good fortune and sometimes you aren’t, regardless of how hard you try. Some people have mazel and some don’t.”

One couple gave us a travelogue on their numerous world-wide adventures. They had been to over 20 countries, always visiting synagogues and Jewish quarters, and felt they were authorities on the best airlines, luggage, cities, points of interest and cuisines. They often traveled with no itinerary other than planning day-by-day, while doing whatever they wanted. Before covid, they made their last big trip and during quarantine, planned the next one. After both having had the virus, they confessed to not feeling up to such a big excursion and decided a cruise would be easier. They liked the ship and what it had to offer but felt the cruise was limiting; it was not the same as their past days of traveling as free wanderers. Then they realized it was THEM that was limiting — they just weren’t as young as they used to be and couldn’t do what they used to do.

Our dinner event was to say good-bye to a couple who was moving out-of-state. After living in the same city their entire lives, selling the big house and living with their kids and grandkids for a few years, the kids were now down-sizing as the grandkids went off to college. Because of the extraordinary prices of homes in California, my friends could not find a home under $800,000 or even rent a two-bedroom condo for less than $4000 a month! They did find a beautiful home, in an over-50s community and not in their ideal state but where the temperatures are as high as California prices! Luckily, they have a cousin and some friends there. They are not happy about the move, as they will be away from the kids and grandkids and it’s greatly affected them emotionally but know that at this stage in their lives, it’s the logical option.

One gentleman, who had been divorced for some years, told us he had married too young, raised his family, was financially successful and now was living like a teenager! He shared that there were lots of lovely women to date who he loved to wine and dine and had his pick of different ladies every night, if he wanted. I surveyed the table at that moment: Most men smiled/snickered or gave him a high-5 while the woman shook their heads!

And then there were our hosts for the evening: A couple who had married later in life, had no children, both were retired for over 20 years, obviously financially secure, still very much in love and toasted the group with, “To all of you: And this too shall pass.”

My take-away from that very interesting evening was:

-The only thing constant in life is change!

-When you make plans, G-d laughs!

-Change is debilitating when done to you and exhilarating when you do it!

-And always have a Plan B!

And when the going gets tough, just tell yourself, “And this too shall pass.”

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I am David Balto a Washington, D.C. Chaplain in a hospital, prison, and a hospice. It is an incredible blessing to do this work as I try to be a comforting presence in places of suffering.

I want to share a teaching for Yizkor, our time to remember our beloveds, with you that helps guide me in my work and my own search for meaning.

The Zohar teaches that when a soul departs from the body for the first 30 days it is in a liminal state, neither in this world or the next. During that time a soul garment is woven for the soul. The garment is woven of the fabric of the acts of the departed and these acts become a radiant garment for the soul. The soul garment is a replica of the person’s character while in the world. When the soul is ready to ascend to the lower heaven a proclamation resounds saying “this garment belongs to this person.”

The Zohar explains:

“A person’s good deeds done in this world draw from the celestial resplendency of light a garment with which he may be invested when he appears before the Blessed Holy One. In that raiment he is in a state of bliss and feasts his eyes on the spirit of the Holy One.”

I have always loved this notion.

Sometimes for grieving families I will suggest they reflect upon their beloved and weave his or her soul garment. In this way to be reminded of the essential character of their beloved and the connection that is always present. It’s a beautiful notion to gather, reflect, repair and begin the path of grieving.

For one person the community actually undertook a month of good deeds to weave the person’s soul garment.

Weaving is so essential and it engages our whole being. And Gd is the ultimate weaver.

Psalm 139 says:

“For you created my inmost being; you wove me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.”

In the hospital, when I bless the babies in the NICU, babies so preciously small, some as small as 20 ounces, striving with every element of being for existence, my heart is touched thinking of Gd the weaver and I thank Gd for how wonderously they are created.

And on Yom Kippur we pray:

“Behold as the cloth in the hand of the weaver,
who drapes or twists it at will,
so are we in Your hand, O gracious God;
look to the covenant and overlook our sin.”

Weaving. What a blessing to weave.

The immediate time after death of a loved one is a time of keriah, tearing and devastation. After all we tear our garment (over our heart if it our parent) to remind ourselves of the overwhelming loss, how we feel torn from the world, how our beloved is torn away. We stare at the tear, we feel the rip as we are ripped apart.

We fear the tear will consume us or we will be lost within the tear.

What a lovely notion that at that time of devastation we are given the spiritual task of binding, repairing and creating. We gather the fabric of our beloved, the deeds, the hopes and beliefs, the aspirations, holding these fabrics, reflecting upon them, embracing them. Then designing the garment and mending, tying together the pieces, and weaving. How lovely to know you will create and hold the fabric of a person’s life in your heart.

Imagine. Imagine your creation for your beloved. Imagine for one of the beloveds you will pray for at the time of Yizkor. Perhaps a piece of white linen to reflect their modesty, or lace to reflect their love for the refined or soft velvet to reflect their sense of order, or a piece of worn leather to reflect their determination, or faded denim to reflect their easy going nature, or flannel to reflect their warmth or the comfort of their presence. Some pieces we may pause over – perhaps some burlap to reflect their contrary nature, or wool to remind you of the friction. Create the design. Take the pieces, weave them together carefully through the warp, tie them together, caress the fabric.

And as you weave perhaps it is sad to see the fabrics that are not there, the pain or loss that occurred, the disappointment. The incompletion, the acts or failure to act that caused pain. The soul garment is not perfect. Nor was our beloved. After all, Gd did not make us perfect, that job is reserved for Angels.

I invite you to take the opportunity to reflect upon the soul garments for the souls you will pray for in the next few moments. Summon the vision inside your heart. Look at their soul garment. Look at the fabrics that are woven. Visit them, envision them, touch them. Open your heart. Look at those attributes they were blessed with or challenged by. Look at the fabric of their garment, their intentions, wishes, actions, disappointments, reflections and teachings. The feelings, joy, pride, devotion, anger, sadness, fear.

Look at those fabrics, piece by piece. Perhaps they rekindle a deep warmth inside you, of your being cherished, of their looking into your eyes with boundless love. Perhaps they remind you of a touch, an embrace as if their garment embraces you now. Perhaps they remind you of words of pride and deep connection. Perhaps you just sit back and appreciate how special your beloved was — I am proud of you, you were so special — how their memory and the garment still nourishes you, and how much you miss them, how you wish your own garment may have some of the same vitality.

But look again, fabric changes. Remember heaven is not like our earthly existence – the afterlife is a world of truth, it is a world of judgment. Perhaps in the world of truth what looked like strong or vibrant fabric has now faded. Or you notice the holes or gaps that always existed, but you missed. Or the frayed incomplete edges that may reflect pain or disappointment. Or when you see gaps or tears you may feel diminished, frustrated, burdened. Perhaps the fabric seemed damaged or infected (we learn about dealing with a woven garment with tzaarat – an infection — in parsha Tazria and how we preserve the garment). Or the weaving is simply incomplete.

And maybe now on reflection you see beauty you missed. Your sadness.

I want to invite you to revisit the soul garments of the people who are in your heart during Yizkor. And perhaps engage in mending the soul garment, of renewing it.

And I want to suggest four guideposts to assist your journey, of seeing your beloved with fresh eyes.

First, view with curiosity. Look upon your beloved’s garment and ask what was this quality, what is this fabric? Where did it come from? If you see parts that are missing, or frayed, be willing to explore the absence and try to understand. Your beloved and their lives always have something to teach you. Be open to inquiry and learning.

Second, view with compassion. Compassion is the core of our lives. The Dalai Lama said “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” We are to walk in Gd’s ways and the first attribute we recognize is Gd’s compassion. The Talmud teaches judge everyone for the good. As we grow older and face many of the challenges faced by our beloved, challenges where perhaps they missed the mark, we can understand their actions or failings with greater compassion.

Compassion keeps the connection vibrant. Compassion is the path to healing.

Third, view with gratitude. In one way or another each one of our beloveds are our teachers, have contributed to our lives, made us the persons we are. Maybe there are attributes you try to keep. Maybe there are other qualities you reject. In all ways, however, the example of their lives guide us.

Finally, view with tears. Tears. Salt water. On Pesach we tasted the salt water when we dipped the karpas. Our collective tears. And for your beloved maybe the tears seem so far away, locked deep inside. Be open to those tears, especially the unexpressed ones.

And look at the soul garment again. Maybe now you see new fabric. Maybe now fabric that seemed incomplete now seems to be able to stretch. Maybe now you see new fabrics that you missed. Maybe you can stretch the fabric, tie it together, make it stronger, and bring new completion, new wholeness. And maybe you see a vibrancy your eyes and heart could not absorb before.

Or maybe it enables you to say the frayed fabric, the gaps, the pain, the disappointment is ok, I can better understand you. I can forgive. We can heal.

No one is perfect.

This is my journey. My father, Yitzchak ben Tzvi Hersch v Taivel, of blessed memory, and I unfortunately were not blessed with a close relationship. Whether it was his alcoholism, my inability to forgive, family battles, my insecurity and fear, one never truly knows. But we were simply not close.

But things can change. A Hasidic master once explained that after death souls can become closer “because now there are no barriers.”

Perhaps.

As I examine my father’s soul garment, I recognize the parts of my own soul garment that are his blessing. As a chaplain there are many qualities his example, his soul garment, teach me:

• the ability to see beyond barriers and create the possible,
• the passion for being able to help people feel Gd’s presence,
• an ability to be fully present in the place of suffering, and
• trust in my intuition and know it is a gift from Gd.

And the vital lesson of his later years — striving in the words of Psalm 90 to “teach me to make each day count so that I may attain a heart of wisdom.”

So when you think of creating your own soul garment look at that basket of fabric next to you, the fabric of your character. Some from the beloved you pray for, some of your own creation.

Their soul garment will guide you.

A suggestion. As you view your beloved’s soul garment, tell their story. Tell their story, not just for them or for yourself, but also for those in your life who are your future.

Telling the story of your beloved with not only strengthen and elevate their spirit in heaven, it will strengthen the spirit of those who hear the story.

I have an interesting fact to share. They have done studies of families that suffered losses from 911 and families that suffered losses from the pandemic. And you know what they found? What is the source of strength – the ability to be present with the pain, go through the pain and be resilient? It is knowing your family story. The ability to share the family story, to create a family narrative is critical to helping people have a sense that they can deal with challenges, even the most painful suffering. And the narrative should not just be the successes, but all the challenges, failures, upsets, and disappointments, the tears, the stains, the patches, the holes. It is just simply a way to understand what it means to be fully human.

Curiosity, compassion, gratitude tears.

About a month ago we observed Yom Hashoah the day to remember the 6 million. I want to close with a poem about memory that my wife Naomi reminded me of — Birdsong, by a child in the Terezin Concentration Camp in I Never Saw Another Butterfly (a collection of children’s poetry and drawings from the camp):

Birdsong

He doesn’t know the world at all

Who stays in his nest and doesn’t go out

He doesn’t know what birds know best

Nor what I want to sing about

That world is full of loveliness.

When dewdrops sparkle in the grass

And earth’s aflood with morning light

A blackbird sings upon a bush

To greet the dawning after night.

Then I know how fine it is to live.

Hey, try to open your heart

To beauty; go to the woods some day

And weave a wreath of memory there.

And if the tears obscure your way

You’ll know how wonderful it is to be alive.

You’ll know how wonderful it is to be alive.

Weave a wreath of memory. The treasures of our soul garments, our beloveds and our own, always being created. Always being renewed. We are told in Exodus that Gd filled those who would do the weaving for the Mizbeach (the sanctuary) with a “wise heart.” May we all be blessed with a wise heart, an open, loving, curious and forgiving heart as we remember our beloveds.

May it be so.

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Editor’s Note: Rabbi Holly Cohn is a hospice chaplain in Texas and wrote this as part of her class on Aging that is part of Wurzweiler School of Social Work’s Certificate in Gerontology and Palliative Care that Rabbi Address teaches in.

One thing I love about Judaism is all the moments connected to ritual. There is something powerful about sanctifying a specific time, transition, milestone, or life-cycle event. My dad turns 90 today and is still able to do almost all activities of daily living despite having Parkinson’s Disease and Dementia. As his ADLs diminish and his illnesses progress, it would be nice to have rituals and/or prayers that normalize the changes he will continue to face.

As he has aged, one transition that was very difficult for him was when he had to begin using a walker both in and outside of the house. He resisted it at first, but now has one we call the Rolls Royce (It is a rollator walker that is special for someone with Parkinson’s Disease. It is weighted and does not fold up). The other, used outside the home is his Sports Car (A snazzy red walker with black stripes that does fold up). I got this idea for naming them from one of my hospice patients who calls her nicer walker her Bentley. Perhaps, if there were a prayer one could say for this change in mobility, or a ritual associated with having to use assistive devices, this might normalize something many perceive as a sign of weakness or deterioration.

For the transition of needing to use a walker:

Dear God, I know sometimes my legs fail me so bless me with strength and courage during this journey in life to accept the assistance I need. There is nothing shamefull about my body needing added support. I will thrive and be able to participate in the world around me more freely. If others think less of me then so be it. I know that I am created in Your image and am not broken but made more whole and holy through daily interactions, the ability to maintain balance and protect this holy body that you have given to me. Step by step I thrive. Step by step you enliven my soul. Mobility in all its forms is a blessing. Baruch atah, Adonai, Eloheinu, Melech haolam, hameichin mitzadei gaver. Blessed are you Eternal One, Sovereign of the Universe, who makes firm our steps.

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In reflection of the one year anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah I feel gratitude and remember and treasure the celebration with family and friends. I would like to share this D’var Torah with you:

I am reading from Parashat K’doshim Leviticus 19:1-8, using the Plaut translation of Torah.

The Eternal One spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the whole Israelite community and say to them: You shall be holy, for I, the Eternal your God, am holy. You shall each revere your mother and your father, and keep My sabbaths: I the Eternal am your God. Do not turn to idols or make molten gods for yourselves: I am your God. When you sacrifice an offering of well-being to the Eternal, sacrifice it so that it may be accepted on your behalf. It shall be eaten on the day you sacrifice it, or on the day following; but what is left by the third day must be consumed in fire. If it should be eaten on the third day, it is an offensive thing, it will not be acceptable. And one who eats of it shall bear the guilt for having profaned what is sacred to the Eternal; that person shall be cut off from kin.

Leviticus 19:1-8.

Shabbat Shalom, Good Morning.

I feel so blessed to be here with all of you today, my family and friends. Thank you mom, Frank and Mary Pat, Jen and Jeff, Kim and Evan for being part of this journey. Helena and Craig, Michelle and Arie and your family for standing up with me today and always inviting me to the table. Adriana, my chaplain sister, thank you for the beautiful centerpieces. And to all my chaplain friends who lifted me up with their warm blessings and guidance.

I also want to wave to my friends and family out there drinking their morning coffee and streaming in their jammies, Eric, Ken and Cathy, and all my nieces and nephews in Florida.

Wow! It’s my Bat Mitzvah Day. I am finally here. I also want to thank Rabbi David, Rabbi Disick, Cantor Neil, Debbie, Ruth, Steve and Judy, Ira, Liz, and Tula for making this all possible. It has been about 40 years of wandering in the wilderness. I am home, sharing this beautiful moment with all of you.

You shall be holy…

What does it mean to be holy?

Is it checking off boxes of the things that you think you are supposed to do?

Or perhaps how you think you are supposed to do them?

Or is it just about following the rules?

Something inside tells me that it is spiritually far more deeper than that.

That’s not to say that rules and guidelines are not important. They assist in establishing a foundation of practice. This I believe allows space for transcendence to a higher level of consciousness, a sacred space of holiness.

You shall love Adonai, your God with all your heart and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.

It is a template for embodying God’s holiness. A covenantal relationship of love, compassion, and kindness. A love that is mirrored to and from God and expanded out into the world. It is a blueprint for how to treat others with dignity and respect with an expectation of reciprocity. That is what keeps us holy. We need more love, peace, and kindness in this world.

Our Shabbat service is a living example of how the holiness codes are woven throughout the liturgy of worship. And the songs of prayer are a celebration of love, peace and kindness.

Rabbi David describes the holiness code as the heart of Torah. K’doshim is read every year at Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, and it serves as a guide for how one spiritually lives in a community.

Speaking of community, I joined Temple Emanuel in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic. It was a way to spiritually connect during a time of isolation and significant loss. Working as a Clinical Chaplain for Serenity Hospice put me in places and circumstances that I could not even have imagined. Tuning in to services on Friday nights, Torah Study on Saturday Morning, Talmud Study with Rabbi Eron on Wednesday, and the Intro to Judaism Class with Ruth and Rabbi David kept me grounded and able to be of service to others. I am so grateful.

Keeping the Sabbath …

Do we really allow ourselves to take a day off?

Keeping the Sabbath was just not a part of my usual routine. In fact, I would go out of my way to pick up extra shifts at the hospital. It was really life changing when I received permission at Shabbat services to slow down. Every week I was encouraged to honor self care and to refrain from over extending myself. I stopped working 24/7 and felt more at peace.

One of the best Shabbat moments was when there was a pause in the pandemic. We had Torah study at the Temple and it was the first time I was able to meet the people in those zoom squares in person. Everyone was so welcoming. Rabbi David opened the floor to questions and I asked if he would work with me to become a Bat Mitzvah.

During the summer I took an introductory Hebrew Class on-line and in the fall set up an appointment to meet with Rabbi. I asked about the Bat Mitzvah and was shocked when he said, “Ok let’s pick a date…”

Today is that date April 23, 2022

Revering your Mother and Father…

Mom, thank you for your love and support for my journey, travels to Jerusalem, and for my Bat Mitzvah celebration.

Dad, May your memory be for a blessing on this special day, your birthday. I feel your presence with me today.

Idols and Molten gods…

While the idols of today are not necessarily molten gods. What do we turn to when alleviating our discomfort in the world? Hollywood, the internet, money, electronic devices?

What are the things that you cannot live without?

And some of us just step away…

When I met with Rabbi I was given a double Torah portion for today. It’s called Acharei Mot-K’doshim. It explores the aftermath of the loss of Aaron’s two sons, Nadab and Abihu. It is an invitation to explore grief and unexpected loss.

I have empathy and great compassion for Aaron and for all those who mourn and grieve. I understand what loss feels like having experienced the death of my mother when I was nine years old and the death of my father about 10 years ago.

There were not a lot of resources for grief back then like the ones we have today including the support group here at Temple Emanuel and the beautiful Yizkor service held here today.

Looking back, I felt disconnected from God and my religion. I didn’t understand the language or the service, and I never felt God’s presence in synagogue.

Until I was called.

I will say that God has a sense of humor calling a secular Jewish woman to seminary and chaplaincy.

It was time to remove my sandals.

There was a pivotal moment about 6 years ago that brought me back to Jewish life. It was right before Rosh Hashana. I was chaplain on duty at the hospital working on my 3rd Unit of Clinical Pastoral Education and was checking in on a new referral. The patient was busy on the phone and it was really difficult getting into his room. It took about 3 tries. Finally, I was able to talk with him and he just happened to be a Rabbi. He was an Emeritus Rabbi being visited by the Cantor and Rabbi from his synagogue.

What was interesting about the encounter was that he was schooling the chaplain. He was asking probing questions wanting to know what kind of chaplain I was and not satisfied by any of the nonsense that I was saying to him. He saw me. I was still passing not identifying with any particular religion during that time. And I really was not sure what I even believed in. I just knew that I felt a connection to something larger than myself.

That was when Rabbi spoke about about spiritual Judaism, Spinoza, Reconstruction, and Renewal. He said, “We are a spirited tribe.” And that was the moment when I heard myself asking him out loud if I was part of the tribe. Rabbi answered, “you never leave the tribe. Even a shunned Spinoza was reconciled in Israel.”

While we were talking a nurse walked in and the Rabbi said to her, “Do you realize that you are walking into sacred space? We have two rabbis, a cantor and a Jewish chaplain here.” It was the first time I was addressed as a Jewish chaplain and there were tears of healing that day.

It was important to me to have this rite of passage here today in the synagogue with my family and friends present. I am very grateful to be in this sacred space standing before you with both my whole and broken pieces in the mishkan. That is what it means to be holy. To be loved by God just as you are.

As I was walking with Rabbi David this week to the sanctuary that he built he introduced me to the new Cantor as a Jew by choice. I immediately replied that I was just a Jew. He stated that all Jews were Jews by choice.

Upon further reflection that day I heard, “It is not what you are born into but what you live out.”

Shabbat Shalom

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לך לך מארצך וממולדתך ומבית אביך …. (Gen. 12:1)

Go forth, from your land, your birth-place, from the house of your parents!

At the start of Lech L’cha, the third Torah portion of our yearly cycle, Avram is commanded to sever his connection to his homeland, to suddenly shift his entire consciousness towards an entirely new and unknown place. No easy task, but one we understand as divinely crafted and one that will be filled with reward. It is God who makes this command, who calls out to Avram promising to shower him and his progeny with blessing, promising in time to settle his people permanently in the Land of Canaan, a place we are later informed will be flowing with milk and honey.

Eighty-four years ago, our ancestors who lived in Germany, were told to lech l’cha. They, too, were abruptly commanded to leave their homeland. With no warning, they were told to pack up and go – ejected from the very place they called, knew, and felt home.

Here, however, no God was present in this command to leave.

There was no blessing here.

In stark contrast to our biblical story of chosen-ness and the well-known refrain “you shall be a blessing” (thank you Debbie Friedman, z”l), this tragic lech l’cha was a thoroughly human invention crafted by fear, hatred, and greed for power. Fear, hatred, and greed that would ultimately lead to utter and senseless destruction on the evening of November 9, 1938, an evening we remember as Kritallnacht.

Kristallnacht, which we will mark this Wednesday evening, marks according to most historians, the beginning of the Shoah, the Holocaust. Certainly, Jewish persecution was routine for Jews living in Europe in the early decades of the twentieth century, particularly following WWI, but Kristallnacht, The Night of Broken Glass, marked a significant and painful transition from social, political, and even economic persecution to direct physical harm. Jews were told to leave, and those who didn’t were, without exaggeration, in mortal danger.

Painful questions arise out of the ashes and the trauma of the Shoah:“where was God?” Why couldn’t have God been with the Jews of 20th century Europe in the way that Torah imagines God with Abram? Where was the “and you shall be a blessing” in WWII? Why didn’t God point us then to a place of refuge, a tangible promised land?

Such questions are, of course, unanswerable. I would argue, unfair even. The tragedy of this horrific episode in history wasn’t the absence of God. The tragedy was the absence of humanity! The failure was entirely human, it was of our own making. We can challenge ourselves, our own humanity, not only by remembering but by allowing the memory of this violent episode (and all that followed) to propel us towards acting in the world in a way which works to prevent such history from repeating itself. We must strive to learn from our past, pay attention to our present, and engage in our future. Our Reform theology reminds us that goodness – that Godliness – cannot reign if we don’t work to nurture and maintain it. On Tuesday, the day before the anniversary of Kristallnacht this year, we have an important opportunity to do just that. Please (please!) – lech l’cha – get yourself up and go vote! Each and every one of our voices matter. History demands that we not take our opportunity to share our voice, to cast our vote, for granted.

The editors of the Reform Movement’s historic Union Prayer Book – the first siddur written specifically for the Reform synagogue – argue that the path to knowing God involves justice motivated action. In an English reading that leads into the Shema, they quote a poem by Israeli poet Yehuda Halevi that reflects on the transcendence and unknowability of God. Then in the same breath, they add a passage that will ring familiar to us as an excerpt of it remains even in our most recent siddur, Mishkan Tefila. If you’ll bear with the language, allow me to share the original:

When justice burns like a flaming fire within us, when love evokes willing sacrifice from us, when, to the last full measure of selfless devotion, we proclaim our belief in the ultimate triumph of truth and righteousness, do we not bow down to the vision of Thy goodness? Thou livest within our hearts, Thou pervade the world, and we through righteousness behold Thy presence.” (p. 39 UPB)

How do we find God? By giving, by doing, by working towards justice.

Our Reform siddur editors remind us at the moment before we declare the Shema, that watch ward of faith, that Godliness in us and in our world depends fully on the actions we take in this world. It is a mutual partnership. God enters the world only by our striving to make sure that atrocities such as Kristallnacht never happen again not only to our own and to all communities in our world.

Lech l’cha –the confluence of the anniversary of when our own were stripped of our rights and election day, a day in our country when we can activate our right, reminds us of our responsibility. Lech l’cha – it is incumbent upon us to go forth and vote next week.

In memory of the anniversary of Kristallnacht, let us reflect on the following, a poem written by my colleague and teacher, Rabbi Gustav Buchdahl, who along with his immediate family was among those fortunate enough to be able to get out and have a place to go at the dawn of the Shoah.

Kristallnacht Revisited

scars remain on aging skin,

scars too on minds, faint memories.

was nothing sacred?

burning scrolls and shattered glass

synagogues engulfed in flame

and silence

the eyes that saw that night

will not forget

the hate filled faces,

the impotence of former friends,

collusion of the law’s enforcers,

the roundup of the innocents,

prelude to disaster.

time passes…

not even intimacy transmits the memory of those who were not there.

where once an open would aroused our curiosity

the scar, at best, evokes an eyebrow raised.

was this for real?

for those of us who live in history this night remains

the capstone of our memories,

a warning!

‘tis more than stone that shatters glass –

for us amnesia pulverizes what is left.

the scars remain on aging skin.

Rabbi Gustav Buchdahl

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This week we meet one of Torah’s more challenging and interesting portions. Pinchas speaks to issues of transition (Moses to Joshua), ritual issues and is most famour for the discussion on inheritance; a discussion that features [Read more...]

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Shavuot greets us next week. (erev is May 28). We celebrate the 10 Commandments, Confirmation in many congregations and for this final Pirke Avot passage, we turn to a line from Chapter 2 of the collection [Read more...]

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The readings for this Shabbat are filled with drama and powerful images. Exodus 33:12-34:26 forms the reading for this Shabbat morning and an assigned Haftorah is drawn from Ezekiel 37:1-14. Our Torah portion reflects upon [Read more...]

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Sandy Taradash finds Passover meaning in Broadway lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. [Read more...]

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New contributor Rabbi Daniel Syme calls for increased attention to the growing suicide epidemic in America, particularly among baby boomers and the newly old. [Read more...]

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Sandy Taradash compares the meaning of "Homecoming" for her granddaughter and for herself. [Read more...]

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On this episode of the Seekers of Meaning Podcast, the guests are Doug and Bari Wachs, who own Caring Transitions of South Jersey, which helps families organize downsizing, decluttering and relocation transitions for seniors. Read more [Read more...]

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Pinchas combines a variety of issues in this week’s portion. One of the most interesting aspects of the portion is the case of the Daughters of Zelophehad. Their father died with no sons to leave [Read more...]

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What a Torah portion this week!Ki Tavo, which begins in Deuteronomy 26, is filled with a series of blessings and curses. Just a glance at chapters 27 and 28 is enough to get anyone’s attention. [Read more...]

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Do you remember the play The Fantasticks? I have seen it a few times and the song that begins “Try to remember” has always stayed with me. I seem to reflect on it several times [Read more...]

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This week we read a very interesting portion that begins in Numbers 8. The beginning of portion Beha’alotecha discusses duties of the Levites. The passage looks at the duties of the Levitical priests in regards [Read more...]

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The September 9, 2016 Jewish Sacred Aging podcast features a rebroadcast of Rabbi Address’ interview with Thomas Cole, Ph.D., Director, McGovern Center for Humanities and Ethics and McGovern Chair in Medical Humanities at the University [Read more...]

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Emor, this week’s portion, focuses on the Priesthood and rules and regulations that concern their function as it relates to the sacrificial cult in the Temple. Purity was a major concern, as chapter 21 asserts [Read more...]

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The April 26, 2016 Boomer Generation Radio show features Mark Davis, from Center for Advocacy for Rights and Interests of the Elderly (CARIE), and Dr. David Bernstein, an internist and gerontologist from Florida, whose latest [Read more...]

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On the March 29, 2016 show, the first guest is Brenda Clement, executive director of Citizens Housing and Planning Association, a nonprofit association for community development and affordable housing in Boston, MA.  Citizens’ Housing and [Read more...]

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With the portion this week, Pekude, we complete the book of Exodus. As we finish the book, we read of the completion of the Tabernacle. These past weeks the Torah is filled with the instructions [Read more...]

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I recently had the honor and priviledge of participating in a very meaningful conference sponsored by the Jewish Studies Department of Arizona State University. Entitled “Health, Mortality and Morality: Jewish Perspectives”, the conference brought together [Read more...]

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An issue that continues to become a major concern for so many of our families is that of costs associated with aging. Specifically, the challenges of being able to afford quality care; be it at [Read more...]

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Editor’s Note: We’re pleased to announce that Sandy Taradash’s contributions to this site have a new, regular location under “Baby Boomer Bubbe.” Sandy will continue to contribute her observations about grandparenthood under this topic heading, [Read more...]

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Leviticus 10 is one of the more challenging chapters of Torah. Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Abihu each offer a sacrifice to God. It is a sacrifice of “eish zara”, strange or alien fire. Their sacrifice [Read more...]

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I am getting increasingly interested in the challenges of what I now refer to as the “economics of aging”. Many boomers are members of  what I call the “club sandwich” generation. That is, we are, [Read more...]

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On the July 15 episode of Boomer Generation Radio, Dr. David Bernstein, a gerontologist in Tampa, Florida, discusses his book, I’ve Got Some Good News and Some Bad News, You’re OLD: Tales of a Geriatrician [Read more...]

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Do you have a medical bill issue that you are struggling to resolve? Do you have a loved one that needs special care? Have you been diagnosed with a health condition and need to find [Read more...]

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