Monday, October 7, 2024

Rosh Hashanah: Praying for SHALOM V’SHALVA


I. Insecurity

I don’t know about you, but as I stand here today on Rosh Hashanah I can’t help but think back to last year, reciting these same Tefillot, having no idea what was in store for us. I suppose that’s true every year. We hope and pray for a Shana Tova U’Metuka, a good and sweet year for ourselves, for our family, for our community, for Am Yisrael, and for the world. And while each year has its surprises, both good and hard, I don’t think any of us could have ever imagined the pogrom that would occur in Israel just two weeks later on Shemini Atzeret, or anything that has happened since then, including hostages, rockets, war, and a dramatic rise in Antisemitism.

We will soon recite the U’Netaneh Tokef prayer, which includes the stirring words:

?כַּמָּה יַעַבְרוּן וְכַמָּה יִבָּרֵאוּן? מִי יִחְיֶה וּמִי יָמוּת? מִי בְקִצּוֹ וּמִי לֹא בְקִצּוֹ

How many will pass away and how many will be created? Who will live and who will die? Who will come to his timely end, and who to an untimely end?


Those words are always poignant, but perhaps never more so than this year. We have seen how vulnerable we are and are left feeling scared and insecure. In fact, the Tefilla goes on to describe our fragility with a series of images:

מָשׁוּל כְּחֶֽרֶס הַנִּשְׁבָּר. כְּחָצִיר יָבֵשׁ. וּכְצִיץ נוֹבֵל. כְּצֵל עוֹבֵר. וּכְעָנָן כָּלָה
.וּכְרֽוּחַ נוֹשָֽׁבֶת. וּכְאָבָק פּוֹרֵֽחַ. וְכַחֲלוֹם יָעוּף

Man is like pottery that is breakable, like grass that withers, like a flower that fades, like a shadow that passes, like a cloud that vanishes, like a wind that blows, like dust that flies, and like a fleeting dream.


We don’t like uncertainty and unpredictability. But the truth is that this past year, and really the last few years, have shown us how little control we have. Thinking back to things like the 2008 Financial Collapse, Climate Change, School Shootings, the Covid Pandemic, the attack on the Capitol, or last year’s Israeli Judicial Reform protests, we quickly realize how much we take for granted and just how insecure we really are.

We also wonder about the impact of rapid advances in technology, such as how Artificial Intelligence (AI) will impact us, which hackers or viruses may be accessing our private information, or what algorithms our social media apps use to keep us scrolling and seeing only certain content.


II. Two Types of BITACHON

This is all to say that over the last few months and years our sense of BITACHON (security) has been shaken. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this word, BITACHON. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that depending how you pronounce the word, you may mean different things. BITACHON means security, as in having police or an army to protect you, whereas BITACHON refers to trusting in God. Of course, these are two applications of the same idea, that when you trust someone to keep their HAVTACHA, their promise, you feel BATUACH, secure.

This concept of BITACHON, trust in Hashem, is familiar to us. In Havdalah each week we say “הִנֵּה קל יְשׁוּעָתִי אֶבְטַח וְלֹא אֶפְחָד - Here is the God of my salvation. I will trust and not fear.” Our Neviim (prophets) emphasize the importance of BITACHON. Yirmiyahu (17:7) teaches “בָּרוּךְ הַגֶּבֶר אֲשֶׁר יִבְטַח בּה’ וְהָיָה ה’ מִבְטַחוֹ - Blessed is the person who trusts in God and for whom God is his security.” And Yeshayahu (26:4) preaches “בִּטְחוּ בה’ עֲדֵי עַד - Trust in God forever.”

But we also know that it’s not enough to sit back and have BITACHON that Hashem will watch over us. We have to do our efforts, our HISHTADLUT, as well. BITACHON doesn't mean hard or sad things won't happen. And it certainly doesn't mean we can sit back and be spectators. We have to participate. What it means is that even if we build the biggest armies, and border walls, and vaccines, and virus protection filters… there will always be something unknown, beyond our control. We will always need Hashem.

Rabbi Sacks says it beautifully: “In Judaism, faith is not certainty. Faith is the courage to live with uncertainty…. Other nations told stories that celebrated their strength. They built palaces and castles as expressions of invincibility. The Jewish people was different. They carried with them a story about the uncertainties and hazards of history. They spoke of their ancestors’ journey through the wilderness without homes, houses, protection against the elements. It is a story of spiritual strength, not military strength.”

This is the strength I want us to think about and try to tap into today. Not the BITACHON of physical security, but the BITACHON of spiritual security.


III. Removing Armor

One of the most famous stories in Tanach is the story of David vs. Goliath. A young shepherd boy musters the courage to fight a giant warrior of the Plishtim, when no one else in the Jewish army was brave enough to do so. And we know how the story goes. David defeats Goliath with a slingshot and goes on to eventually become David Melech Yisrael, King of Israel. But there is one astonishing detail about this story that you might miss if you read too quickly. Not only does David have the courage to fight, but the pasuk (Shmuel Aleph 17:39) tells us that he takes off his armor because it is too heavy for him:

וַיַּחְגֹּר דָּוִד אֶת חַרְבּוֹ מֵעַל לְמַדָּיו וַיֹּאֶל לָלֶכֶת כִּי לֹא נִסָּה
וַיֹּאמֶר דָּוִד אֶל שָׁאוּל לֹא אוּכַל לָלֶכֶת בָּאֵלֶּה כִּי לֹא נִסִּיתִי וַיְסִרֵם דָּוִד מֵעָלָיו

David girded his sword over his garment. Then he tried to walk; but he was not used to it. And David said to Saul, “I cannot walk in these, for I am not used to them. So David took them off.


Reflecting on this story, Elie Wiesel said “this image has stayed with me as a symbol of a key concept: that vulnerability is the greatest weapon if you are brave enough to use it.”

When I hear the word vulnerability, I once again am brought back to feelings of uncertainty, insecurity, and fear. In fact, the Hebrew word for vulnerability, PEGIUT, has the same root as the word for a terrorist attack, PIGUAH. Because when you open yourself up you run the risk of getting hurt. So what does Elie Wiesel mean when he says that “vulnerability is the greatest weapon if you are brave enough to use it?” I can perhaps understand in the case of David how shedding the heavy armor allowed him to maneuver more quickly in order to defeat Goliath with speed and agility, rather than strength, for which he would have been no match. But in our day to day lives is it really true that vulnerability can be a strength?

The vulnerability guru, of course, is Dr. Brene Brown. She has dedicated her career to researching this topic and shining a light on its importance. And she too talks about removing armor as a way to build connection. But I heard one insight from her that I’d like to share that actually frames vulnerability not only as a healthy emotional practice, but as a spiritual one as well. She says:

True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.

Maybe what Brene Brown, and Elie Wiesel, and David HaMelech are teaching us is that real strength doesn’t come from being invincible; it comes from being authentic.

So many of us spend so much energy thinking about how we look to the world, so that we will be accepted and will fit in. Deep down, we’re scared of opening ourselves up because of the possibility that the world will not accept us when they see that we’re not perfect. We may be so used to living this way that we don’t even realize it, but it’s exhausting. Imagine a football player who never takes off their football helmet and pads. In a world of strangers and dangers, armor and helmets have their time and place. But day to day, with the people we love, we need to reveal the real us, warts and all.

The Torah (Shemot 25:11) describes the Aron Kodesh, the Holy Ark, as a wooden box plated in gold on both the inside and the outside. Why, asks the Talmud (Yoma 72b), was it covered in gold on the inside where no one would see it? It was to teach us that our insides should match our outsides, a concept known as Tocho K'varo.

This is such an important concept, especially on a day like today, Rosh Hashanah. We may be able to fool the people we work with, the people we sit next to in shul, maybe even our friends and family, sometimes even ourselves. But we can never fool Hashem. God knows us better than we know ourselves. So why bother wearing any armor? It’s heavy and slows us down. And God can see through it anyway. Take it off. You’ll feel lighter and more like yourself.

Today is about shedding the extra layers, taking off the makeup, and looking in the mirror. Who are you deep down? What are your core values? What matters most to you in your life? What are the blessings in your life? What are the challenges? What is your unique contribution to this world and what are you doing to maximize the gifts God gave you to make the world a better place?

When people think about the word Teshuva they sometimes get scared. But what if Teshuva isn’t about becoming a different person, but about removing the armor to reveal our true selves? And what if Rosh Hashanah is not about patching up the cracks on the surface but about opening up our hearts and returning to who we are at our core?

There’s a halacha that a Shofar that is cracked cannot just be patched up and used. Because the sound won’t be the same. This reminds me of an idea I once read about the origin of the word Sincere. Evidently, dishonest sculptors in Greece and Rome would cover flaws in their work by using wax. If the sculpture was chipped, cracked, or damaged the dishonest sculptors would melt wax into the marble dust, using it to conceal the flaw or imperfection. Therefore, when an honest sculptor presented their work to the patron, they would make the statement that the sculpture was “Sine Cera” or “Without Wax.”

We don't achieve security by patching things up on the outside, but by strengthening our inner core. This is the difference between focusing on Pnimiyut (what’s inside) vs. Chitzoniyut (what is external).

Let’s do a thought experiment. If I ask you to picture pineapple, what do you see? Are you picturing a shell with a tough exterior and some leaves coming out the top? Or are you picturing cut up pieces of the sweet yellow fruit inside? The Klipah, the shell, is important. It protects the Pri, the fruit, inside, allowing it to grow and ripen. But we don’t eat the shell. We throw it away and eat the actual pineapple which is inside.

But what do we do if our inner core is rotten? Or unripe? What if we’re worried that when we remove the shell we won’t like what we find inside?

David HaMelech writes in Tehillim (51:19):

לֵב נִשְׁבָּר וְנִדְכֶּה אֱלֹקים לֹא תִבְזֶה

God, You will not despise a broken and crushed heart


We don’t need to worry about what’s inside because we are promised acceptance. That’s the HAVTACHA, the promise. And that BITACHON, trust, is what provides the BITACHON, the security, we seek. Rather than harden our hearts, we need to open our hearts. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 106b) teaches that “Rachmana Liba Ba’ee - The Merciful One desires the heart.” And the Kotzker Rebbe famously taught that “there is nothing more complete than an incomplete heart.” It’s ok that we are broken inside, that we have cracks. The broken Luchot weren’t thrown away or recycled; they were kept inside the Aron. And the cracks inside of us are what allow us to let God in.

There’s a beautiful song by Ishay Ribo called “Tehilatcha BaRabim.” And in that song there is such a moving lyric. He asks Hashem:

רק תתן לי לב בטוח לדבר איתך פתוח

I ask only that You give me a secure heart to speak with you openly


The more PATUACH (open, authentic) we are the more BATUACH (secure, safe) we feel.


IV. SHALOM vs. SHALVA

I mentioned earlier the Hebrew word for vulnerability: PEGIUT. When we dig a little deeper into this word we find something interesting. The Talmud (Brachot 26b), teaches that “אֵין ״פְּגִיעָה״ אֶלָּא תְּפִלָּה - This word is a code word for prayer. The prooftext (Breishit 28:11) is the story of Yaakov running away from Eisav and reaching a spot to camp for the night. The Rabbis interpret the phrase “וַיִּפְגַּע בַּמָּקוֹם” to mean that Yaakov prayed. And they derive from there the source to pray Maariv at night. In his sleep Yaakov dreams of a stairway to heaven and Hashem tells Yaakov that He will watch over and protect him as He had promised Avraham.

Vulnerability, PEGIUT, may be a strength, but it can still make you feel insecure and scared. And when we reach those moments in our lives when it is dark, we are alone, and we are unsure of what to expect, what helps us get through is prayer.

There is an incredibly moving prayer that we will recite during Musaf on Yom Kippur. It is the Tefilla that the Kohein Gadol (High Priest) would recite each year after finishing the Avodah in the Beit HaMikdash. The Kohein Gadol asks for many things (a year of blessings, good decrees, prosperity…). But there is one phrase that stands out to me this year. In the middle of this long list of things that he asks for, the Kohein Gadol prays for “שְׁנַת שָׁלוֹם וְשַׁלְוָה - A year of peace and tranquility.”

Of course, SHALOM, a lasting peace, is something we are all praying for right now. But what is the difference between SHALOM and SHALVA? The Malbim (Tehillim 122:6) translates SHALOM (peace) as external and SHALVA (tranquility) as internal. He explains that if we want external peace with our enemies we first have to find inner peace and unity within our Nation. Now that idea itself has a lot of meaning for us to think about. But right now I want to focus on this idea of SHALVA as an inner peace that comes from within, no matter what is happening around us.

The Midrash tells us at the beginning of Parshat VaYeshev (Breishit 37:1) that “בִּקֵּשׁ יַעֲקֹב לֵישֵׁב בְּשַׁלְוָה - Yaakov wanted to settle down in tranquility.” And yet he faced many moments of upheaval and crisis in his life. I think we could all use a bit of SHALVA these days, don’t you? When we’re young we’re always looking for the next exciting thing, but as we get older, sometimes a little SHALVA is just what the Doctor ordered. I am reminded of the famous Academy Awards speech by Holocaust survivor Gerda Weissmann Klein who said “In my mind’s eye, I see those who never lived to see the magic of a boring evening at home.” I think a lot of people right now, especially our brothers and sisters in Eretz Yisrael, would love to experience the magic of a boring evening at home.


V. Inner Strength

None of us know what this coming year will bring. And the truth is, most of it is out of our control. As the Talmud teaches (Brachot 33b):

הַכֹּל בִּידֵי שָׁמַיִם חוּץ מִיִּרְאַת שָׁמַיִם

All is in the hands of Heaven except fear of Heaven


But maybe the lesson we have to remind ourselves of today is that real BITACHON, real security, comes from within. Rather than make us more protected, adding layers of armor can actually make us slower and weaker. Our Avodah this Rosh Hashanah is to remove our armor, to strengthen our inner core, so that we can withstand whatever the wind blows in.

The Talmud (Taanit 20a) even teaches:

לְעוֹלָם יְהֵא אָדָם רַךְ כְּקָנֶה וְאַל יְהֵא קָשֶׁה כְּאֶרֶז

A person should always be soft like a reed, and he should not be stiff like a cedar


You would think a cedar tree is much stronger than a reed. But the Talmud explains that when strong winds blow the cedar may be uprooted, whereas the reed is able to bend but not break. It knows how to be flexible and resilient. Real Strength is on the inside.

So as we listen to the Shofar in just a few moments, let those broken sounds penetrate you. With each shofar blast take off another piece of armor.

Take the time to really look at yourself in the mirror. Who are you deep down? What are your deepest hopes and dreams? Where are you on your journey?

Are you living a life of authenticity - Tocho K’varo? Or are you putting on a persona for others that masks the real you? [If you’re not sure how to answer that question, ask yourself how many people really know “the real you.”]

May this coming year bring both SHALOM and SHALVA, outer peace and inner tranquility. And may we approach each surprise that awaits us this year with the flexibility of a reed rather than the stiffness of a cedar.

Shana Tova

Friday, March 22, 2024

The Hosen People - Resilience in The Land of Israel Post 10/7

Some reflections from my recent trip to Israel on an Associated Mission to show solidarity with Israel and to celebrate 20 years of the Baltimore-Ashkelon Partnership. I want to remember what Israel felt like during this painful time of war, hostages, displaced families, and an uncertain future.


Day 1 - Monday 3/11/24

1) Always special arriving in Israel, but especially now with soldiers in the line of fire and citizens held captive.
2) This is my 1st visit to Ashkelon. It is a lovely city with friendly people.
3) Briefed on the war by Major (Res.) Dan Feferman, an intelligence analyst who now runs Sharaka, a nonprofit promoting Israel's relationships with Abraham Accords nations.
4) Visited the Ashkelon municipal war room, where city leaders monitor missile launches and other threats. Met with Colonel (Res.) Shai Belaish, who is in charge of a new initiative called Meishiv HaRuach, whose mission is to help Ashkelon citizens build resilience.
5) Delicious Moroccan lunch. Time to get to know the other members of this Baltimore delegation.
6) Met with Liat Rif and her team. Liat is the Founder and Director of Project Heartbeats, an effort to provide support and mentorship to parents of toddlers.
7) A few minutes to enjoy an Ice Cafe and some beautiful weather here in Ashkelon. The city looks to an outsider like me as if it is fully functioning. Families are playing in the parks. People are shopping and eating at cafes. Amazing how people keep on going even with a war just a few miles down the road.
8) Visit to the Ilay Soccer Association, an amazing club for children and young adults with special needs to develop soccer skills, build confidence, and make friends.
9) Delicious home hospitality dinner, followed by a drive to our hotel overlooking the Ashdod Port.
Off to sleep now, with another packed day scheduled for tomorrow.
 
Day 2 - Tuesday 3/12/24

1) We started the day at a Merkaz Klita (Absorption Center) in Ashkelon, where we witnessed beautiful weaving techniques traditional to Ethiopia and learned about how the center responded to 10/7. This visit was especially meaningful for me, having lived on a Merkaz Klita myself at age 3.
2) We then visited the Ashkelon Resiliency Center (Merkaz Hosen) and met with Talia Levanon of the Israel Trauma Coalition, to discuss how the country is trying to face the impossible challenge of supporting an entire nation going through collective trauma. This word, Hosen (Resilience) would come up again and again on this mission.
3) Driving around Ashkelon, we saw many beautiful sights, including the promenade by the sea, Park Baltimore, and incredible sculptures at the center of the big roundabouts. We also saw several buildings and homes that had been hit by missiles. Ashkelon has been the target of 30% of all missiles launched from Gaza since 10/7.
4) We had lunch with teen leaders at The Amen Center, and learned about their incredible volunteerism (under the leadership of Dafna Biton) since 10/7, despite being in a city that was in lockdown due to falling missiles.
5) We toured the Madaim school, one of the partner schools of our Shevet Achim school twinning project. They have beautiful posters hung around the building with inspirational quotes from recently fallen soldiers, the goal being to help the students feel more connected.
6) We set up a Purim costume pop up shop where Ashkelon kids could pick up costumes.
7) We caught a Mincha minyan at a local Sephardic kollel around the corner.

8) We then drove to the new Agamim Matnas (JCC) for a community reception honoring the 20th Anniversary of the Baltimore-Ashkelon Partnership. The mayor spoke, as well as leaders from Baltimore and Ashkelon and The Jewish Agency for Israel. The Hazamir choir performed as well. I met the person who oversees Elementary schools in Ashkelon, the parents of one of our current Shinshiniyot, a new Shinshin who will join us in Baltimore next year, and an American family that recently moved to Ashkelon and loves it.
9) We finished the day with an incredible dinner near the marina at an Italian restaurant called Gatos. The food was amazing, and I spent much of the meal talking with someone who was in the real Fauda unit. His stories were incredible. But it was also fascinating hearing his perspective on the war, the draft, and the future of Israel.
10) Finally back at the hotel at 11pm. Time to do the Daf and catch some sleep. Tomorrow morning we go to bear witness at Kibbutz Beiri.


Day 3 - Wednesday 3/13/24 (Part 1)

Today is a day I will never forget. We visited Kibbutz Beiri and bore witness to the horror that happened there on October 7th.
As we drove south from Ashkelon, our tour guide pointed out that the term Otef Gaza (Gaza Envelope) is interesting because the word Otef means hug (to envelop something). It refers to the kibbutzim that are spread out around Gaza. But it also is a reminder to us of the hug that all the residents of this region could use.
Visitors to this area are no longer required to wear vests and helmets. But we did have an armed guard. And there were security forces in the area as well. [It also happened to be that the Minister of Education was visiting at the same time.]
We toured the Kibbutz with a resident who survived the day with his family by hiding in their safe room. When asked how his teenage children stayed calm, he replied that teens on the Kibbutz are taught how to calm their breathing during stressful situations like rocket fire. He also said that they gave each child a job to keep them focused. One kept track of what's app. Another watched over the dogs (who, by the way, did not bark or pee even once the entire 20 hours in hiding!).
The Kibbutz is beautiful, full of flowers, trees, and birds chirping. Walking through the houses, you can understand why someone would want to live here. We were asked not to take photos unless we asked permission because some residents wished to maintain their privacy.
About 1200 residents called Kibbutz Beiri home before 10/7. Almost every house we passed had bullet holes, burned out roofs and walls, and signs hanging in front showing who lived there that was either killed or taken hostage. It is so painful to see and hard to imagine. Our host told us stories of his friends and neighbors, and tried to help us feel both what it was like on that awful day, and what the survivors (most of whom are temporarily relocated to the Dead Sea) are experiencing now. He expressed gratitude for us coming and emphasized that this was not an Anti-Zionist attack, but an Anti-Semitic one, which will spread to our communities as well if we don't combat it.
Twice during the tour a huge explosion was heard that sounded like it was 20 feet away and made us all jump. Thus was the sound of IDF artillery landing in Gaza, just a short distance away. The Ashkelon residents among us especially seemed unnerved by this sudden boom, clearly bringing back memories of rockets falling on their city. Our host shared that little things can sometimes trigger strong memories that bring back the terror of that day. At the mall, for example, when announcements are made over the loudspeaker, those 1st few seconds when the crackle of the speaker comes on make many residents of the south tense up.
Another example of the PTSD and challenge of how to keep living is the question of how and when Beiri will rebuild. Our hosted quoted Winston Chuchill who talked about never missing an opportunity to take advantage of a tragedy. He is determined to build Beiri back better than ever, with a vision not of restoring what was, but of imagining what could be, including sharing his vision for a modernized school and child center. When I asked him how residents would be able to return to a place of such horror, he said that this is their home. But he did acknowledge that it will be hard. Even though his own home wasn't damaged, he says that he can't imagine sleeping there again and reliving that terrible day. As for the many homes that were destroyed, they will be knocked down and rebuilt. But they are lobbying the government not to just paint over bullet holes on other homes, but to replace them. When asked whether the Kibbutz might leave one house standing as a memorial to what happened in Beiri, he said that he understands the question but that he personally would not want to see that every day.
I pray for the return of all the hostages. I pray for peace and security. I pray for a rebuilt Beiri. And I pray for the mental wellness of the residents of Otef Aza and the entire country.
It is our duty to support our brothers and sisters who endured this pogrom and to keep awareness of the October 7th attacks and the plight of the hostages alive.
Day 3 - Wednesday 3/13/24 (Part 2)

After a heavy morning bearing witness in Kibbutz Beiri (see Part 1), we drove to the nearby city of Sderot for lunch. Only recently have residents been coming back and tourists returning. In Sderot we met Col (Ret) Grisha Yakobovich, who took us to reporter's hill, a lookout to Gaza that helped us see just how close Gaza is to Sderot and to Ashkelon. We also stopped at a playground with fortified shelters for children to hide in when under rocket attack. And we saw the former location of the now destroyed police station, where a long battle with Hamas terrorists took place on 10/7. Grisha helped us understand the Gaza issue on a much deeper level than we are used to hearing in the press. After a stop for ice cream in Yad Mordechai, home to a famous battle during the 1948 War of Independence, we made our way to Tel Aviv.
We met a guide named Aaron who led us through a Graffiti Tour in the Florentino section of the city. The art installations gave us a sense of the many ways artists are expressing their pain, their hope, and their resolve in the aftermath of 10/7. Sometimes, when there are no words to express what is inside, it takes something like Art or Music to let out our emotions.
After checking into the hotel I took a short stroll along the promenade overlooking the sea and enjoyed a beautiful sunset.
Over dinner we shared how we are feeling after a day like today and talked about the questions we are sitting with. Shelley Kedar, of the Jewish Agency for Israel, led us in a reflection activity using cards with drawings. My card had a drawing of a camping tent and I shared that this idea of being displaced and living a temporary existence is everywhere we look right now (even in our hotel where hundreds of Mefunim, displaced Israeli citizens, from both the South and the North are living). I reflected on the still standing Sukkah that we witnessed in Kibbutz Beiri earlier in the day, and on a language error I made yesterday at the absorption center. The host was talking to us about vocational training (Ta'asukah) that residents receive. I thought she had said Sukkah, and I reflected that a temporary stay in an absorption center is like living in a Sukkah, a temporary dwelling. In truth, I think the whole country is living a temporary Sukkah-like existence right now, unable to settle down, feel at home, and imagine what the future will bring. The way Shelley phrased it is "every Israeli has experienced 159 days of October." There is much more to share, but that will have to do for now.

Day 4 - Thursday 3/14/24
 
1) Our 4th and final day of the Mission started at the hotel in Tel Aviv where we had breakfast in the dining room alongside many families from both the North and South of Israel who have been displaced from their homes due to the war. On the one hand, the fact that Israel is paying to house, feed, clothe, educate, and care for so many of its citizens is incredible. At the same time, I think about how uncomfortable it must be to have to live for so long in a hotel room, to rely on others for food, laundry, and so much else, and to have no clarity on when and how you can return home.
2) Today's itinerary began with a fun volunteering opportunity. We went to a shop which used to host cooking classes and now has been transformed into a center to cook meals for soldiers, displaced families, and families who have a parent in Miluim (reserve duty). We peeled and chopped vegetables, boiled pasta, fried onions and carrots, and cooked potatoes and chicken. In the big picture, this is a tiny helping hand. But things like this are happening all over the country right now. We met one woman who said that once a week she does the laundry for a displaced family that she doesn't know. Many non-kosher restaurants kashered their kitchens through the Rabbanut so that they could help cook meals as well. There are groups tying tzitzit for soldiers and folding their laundered uniforms. And so much more.
3) After a brief stop at a coffee shop (our guide told us that Tel Aviv has more coffee shops per capita than any city in the world!), we drove to a funky office space in an industrial area where we met with Daniel Gradus and the incredible people behind Project 24. Named for the 24 Kibbutzim, Yishuvim, Moshavim, and cities that were attacked on October 7th, this group aims to use an entrepreneurial approach and a Start-Up Nation spirit to bring people together in support of each other. Each of their projects stems from meeting with an October 7th survivor or someone else impacted by the war and listening to their needs. A project is then developed that not only helps that person, but many others along the way as well. For example, one survivor is a 19 year old young man with Autism who loves Lego. A partnership was created with a Jewish community and a Jewish owned toy store in New York. Not only was this young man invited to select the Lego set of his choice as a Chanukah gift. But families from the synagogue also then came to the store to purchase presents which they wrapped and wrote personal cards for, and these gifts were then sent to Israel and given to other children from the same Kibbutz. And the young man with Autism, who had difficulty building friendships in the past, was asked to go around delivering each present to the children. So a community in NY did something meaningful. A toy store that was willing to partner ended up benefitting with increased business. A lot of kids received a gift that put a smile on their faces. And a young man felt like a million bucks. They have other projects as well, such as missions to America for teen athletes who survived 10/7, The Challah Project, in which local American kosher bakeries sell challah on Fridays, and for each challah sold a voucher for a free challah is sent to a displaced family. That voucher can be used at a local bakery near them that has been hurting as well. The family gets a voucher for a free challah and the bakery is helped by bringing in new customers. There are similar initiatives with kosher wine sales and much more. I encourage you to check out their website. Their work is very inspiring. And they are looking for people to join the movement and partner with them on other inspiring projects. By the way, when I asked Daniel how he learned to think like this, he said something interesting. From his perspective, the reason there is so much entrepreneurship in Israel is because of the lack of hierarchy. Whoever has the best idea wins. "If you don't send the elevator down no one will go up."
4) Our group enjoyed our final meal together (the food here is so good!). Each of us shared reflections on what this trip has meant to us personally. Many reflected on the awe they have for the Resilience of the Israeli People. Several got very emotional sharing their own emotions in the weeks since 10/7. Others shared what a deeper understanding they have now about what is really happening in Israel and a responsibility they feel to share that back home. As for me, I reflected on my new understanding of what it means to have a partner city. I had never been to Ashkelon before, and meeting so many special people from that city helped me see what those relationships mean to so many in both Baltimore and Ashkelon. I understood, to some degree, the value of building bridges across the ocean. But I now understand that the kesher (connection) people develop through this partnership is also to others in their own community whom they had not previously known but now feel close to for life. I also shared my amazement of how human beings can hold opposite emotions at the same time. We tend to talk about the roller coaster of emotions, the ups and downs of life. Bruce Feiler describes the oscillating family narrative. But I see now that it is possible to feel incredibly hopeful, loving, joyous, grateful, and inspired while also feeling immensely sad, scared, angry, worried, and guilty.
5) Our final stop of the day and of the mission was to Kikar HaChatufim (Hostage Square). This is the area where hostage families and their supporters have been since 10/7, right in front of the Kiriya (Israel's military headquarters) making sure to keep the world's attention on their loved ones being held captive in Gaza. It is hard to describe the feeling of this place in words, but hopefully the photos I took will give you a sense.
6) As we said goodbye and went our separate ways, our group felt so grateful to have been here to bear witness and express support. So many people that we met this week shared how much it meant to them that we showed up at such a scary time. They really wanted us to know that in their eyes it was no small thing.
7) I took the train to Jerusalem (so smooth and quick!) and was greeted with singing and music as we went up the many escalators (making Aliyah!) out of the station. And of course, as often happens in Israel, the person right behind me on the escalator recognized me from when we lived in Florida 12 years ago.

8) I now look forward to several calmer days with family here in Jerusalem before heading back to Maryland. I'm sure it will take me some time to process everything we have seen and all the deep conversations we have had. But for now, I just feel grateful to be here. Shabbat Shalom

Day 6 - Saturday Night 3/16/24
After a restful Jerusalem Shabbat with family, I went to tonight's rally to release the hostages. What a powerful experience! So much love, pain, hope, anger... We heard from families whose loved ones are in captivity and joined with hundreds of people who are not just going about their lives as if nothing happened, but are Nosei B'ol Chaveiro, bearing the pain along with their fellow Israelis. May Hashem grant us the zechut (merit) to bring home our brothers and sisters
safely, Achshav - Now! Please keep posting on social media, contacting your elected officials, praying, and doing mitzvot...