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

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...

September's Here And The Air Is Clear

When I was growing up (do we ever stop growing up?) there was an annual custom in our family the night before school. My mother would sing us a little ditty that her mother sang to her. It went like this: "September's here / and the air is clear / and you're old enough and big enough to go to school." It's kind of hard to hear it without the tune, but it was upbeat and got us all excited for the next day and the year to come. In fact, this tradition grew roots and to this day my mother will call each of her children or grandchildren the night before their 1st day of school (even graduate school) and sing us the song, and if she forgets then we will call her and ask her to sing it to us. Even if school starts in August, the lyrics don't change. We still sing "September's here."

With schools starting now around the country, teachers are busy preparing for their students, children are finishing up their summer homework, and parents are shopping for school supplies and snacks. There's both excitement and anxiety in the air. Will this be an incredible year of learning, of support, of growth, of friendship, and joy? Will school be a place everyone looks forward to attending day in and day out? Will our social-emotional needs be met and will we be seen?

I'm not sure I thought of all this as a kid. I probably just thought about my new red boots, or my baseball pencil case, or whom I would play with at recess. I'm sure I wasn't aware that my teachers had a life outside of school or that their job was incredibly complex. I'm also sure I wasn't aware of the worry that my parents had for me entrusting my growth and wellbeing to others. So much goes on behind the scenes to make a school year successful. And there will be good days and harder days. But as we gear up for another school year let's sing that song and remember that each year is a new beginning, that none of us is done growing and we are each works in progress. Even if you're not in school anymore, on this September 1st, I sing to you, "September's here / and the air is clear / and you're old enough and big enough to go to school."

156 Weeks of Parsha

This past Shabbat I walked into shul and went to pick up the Shabbat Bulletin and Israel News. I instinctively reached for the Family Parsha Sheet that I make each week, so that we could read it together as a family at the Shabbat table. And then I remembered: for the 1st time in three years I had not made a weekly Parsha Sheet.

For the last four years I have had the honor of serving as Youth Rabbi at Kemp Mill Synagogue in Silver Spring, MD. At the end of the 1st year my wife Elisheva and I decided to create a weekly Family Parsha Sheet that would include Parsha Questions, a parsha themed Cartoon, a What Would You Do dilemma, and other fun features that families could enjoy together at the Shabbat table. Over the years we added new features like This Week in Jewish History, Words of Wisdom, Elisheva's Parsha Challah, and more.

It would take 2-3 hours a week to find interesting material to share and to format it into an attractive looking sheet. But it was always gratifying to see kids, and even adults, reading through the sheet in shul or taking it home. This basically was a very big part of my life for 3 years, and I couldn't relax until I knew the sheet for that week was complete.

I have studied Parshat Hashavua for many years, but preparing this Family Parsha Sheet each week made me look at the parsha in ways I never had before. It was a joy (mostly) looking for new ideas, and it became an anchor for our Shabbat table conversations.

So I guess it isn't so strange that I reached for the parsha sheet this past Shabbat, even though I knew my last one was for Parshat Pinchas. It was second nature. A Chazaka is established when you do something three times in a row. At that point it is assumed it will continue. Well, after three years, and 156 consecutive weeks, I don't know if I need to do Hatarat Nedarim, but I am stepping away from this weekly project. I have started a new position as Executive Director of Jewish Educational Services in Baltimore and no longer have the time to work on this.

Elisheva and I have shared our sheet on social media and with shuls around the country that have asked for it. We would love to develop this, together with other projects we have worked on, such as a Parsha Cookbook and ParshArt activities, into a website or book for families to enjoy. In the meantime, the archives are on the KMS website. You can see the way the sheet improved over the years.

Even though I am stepping back from this project for now, it has inspired me to find fun ways of bringing parsha to the whole family and making Shabbat meals Torah centered. There is so much amazing Torah on the internet right now and there really is something interesting for everyone.

I hope this inspires you to learn parsha each week and to find meaningful projects in your life as well.

If You Could Have Lunch With Anyone In The World

I was once asked a very interesting question during a job interview: If you could have lunch with anyone, past or present, who would it be? I wasn't expecting that question, but what came to mind at the moment were 3 people: Yehoshua Ben Gamla (who started the Jewish Day School movement), Natan Sharansky, and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I'm not sure why those specific names came to me at that moment, but sometimes, even if a different or better answer might come with more time to think, it is interesting to see what your instinct comes up with.

Over Pesach I posed this same question to members of our family (from the Grandparents to the Grandchildren) and received such an eclectic range of answers:

Nancy Reagan, Genghis Khan, Thomas Edison, Princess Diana, Golda Meir, Aaron Judge, David Ben Gurion, Robin Williams, Rashi, Sandra Boynton, Menachem Begin, Henry IV, David HaMelech, Devorah, Rivkah Imeinu, The Rogatchover Gaon, Rav Meir Shapiro, Yogi Berra, Major Biden (the President's dog), Noach, Ulysses S. Grant, Any random dude from 1941, Paul McCartney, Dwight Eisenhower, Abraham Lincoln, and Betzalel.

This was a really interesting exercise, which engaged all members of the family from younger to older. And it was very fascinating to listen to what each person would want to discuss with their guests. We even joked about what an interesting scene it would be if all these guests came together for one big meal.

Pesach is a time when we talk about our journeys, reflecting on where we have come from, what we have been through, and where we are heading. It reminds us that each of us goes through moments when we must choose our path. Do we remain in the status quo, even if it is less than ideal, or bravely venture into the risky unknown, hoping for a better tomorrow? My mother always asks us at the Seder: if you were in Egypt would you have left? The Midrash says that 80% of Bnei Yisrael remained in Egypt, something that seems shocking when you think about the slavery they lived under. But sometimes it is easier to remain in the familiar than to venture into the wilderness.

So I pose a simple question to you: who would you have lunch with? And what would you want to ask them? Would it be a great grandparent? Someone whose work changed the world for the better? Someone who had to make a difficult choice? Ask your family members who they would meet. And then ask yourself one more question: if your great grandchild 100 years from now got to meet you, what do you think they would ask you?

Hiding and Seeking on Pesach

Tonight we will take a feather, a spoon, and a candle and search our homes for Chametz (Bedikat Chametz). Many even have the custom of putting out 10 pieces of bread for the children to find [if you do, make sure someone writes down all 10 spots so that you don't miss one!]. Symbolically, we are reminded to search and destroy not only the physical crumbs of Chametz, but the spiritual crumbs as well, cleansing ourselves of any character traits which do not reflect our true nature.

I was thinking about this theme of hiding and seeking and realized that it shows up throughout the Pesach holiday:

-For 430 years Hashem was "hiding" and waiting for the exact moment when He could fulfill His promise to Avraham to redeem Bnei Yisrael from Egypt (Rashi Shemot 12:42). 

-Moshe also was hiding out in Midyan, and according to the Midrash (Shemot Rabbah 2:2) he was searching for his missing sheep when he came across the Burning Bush.

-During Makkat Bechorot, Bnei Yisrael are hiding in their homes while God strikes the Egyptian Firstborn.

-According to the Talmud (Sotah 13a), while everyone else is in a rush to leave (to the extent that they did not even have time for the dough to rise!) Moshe is running around Egypt looking for Yosef's bones, because he knows they will not be able to leave unless they fulfill their promise to take Yosef's bones with them.

-On the Shabbat of Pesach we read Megillat Shir HaShirim, Song of Songs, which uses an allegory of a lover searching for his soulmate to depict our search for God in our lives.

-At the Pesach Seder we do many things "to get the children to ask" such as hiding the Matzot/Seder Plate. We want them to be alert, to notice things, to ask questions.

-We open the door for Eliyahu HaNavi, searching to see if he has visited our homes (does anyone else check the Kos Shel Eliyahu to see if the wine level seems to be lower?].

-And of course, we hide the Afikoman and have the children search for it. [some families have the children then rehide it and make the adults search as well.]

Why all this hiding and seeking on Pesach?

Let's focus in a little more on the search for the Afikoman. The step of the Seder when we find and then eat the Afikoman is called צפון, which means hidden. It is related, I think, to the word מצפה, which means to expect or look forward to something [like the Rashi quoted above who says that Hashem was looking forward to ("מצפה") the day of redemption for 430 years]. 

You see, when something is hidden or unclear we have two choices. We can move on and ignore it, or we can search for it. It depends how important it is to us. I remember, as a child, playing Hide and Go Seek with my friends during recess. Everyone wanted to have a turn to Seek. You had to close your eyes and count to 30 while everyone else hid, And then you could run around and find everyone. It was fun to hide and not be caught. But it was even more fun to find everyone as the seeker. Of course, every once in a while there would be someone whose hiding spot was so good that no one could find them. At first this would be fun, with all the kids trying to help the seeker find the last holdout. But after a couple of minutes people would just give up and say something like "come out come out wherever you are! You win! We're starting a new round!" 

Maybe Pesach is coming to remind us that Hashem is always close to us. He loves us and wants to connect. But we have to do our part to seek Him out. Geulah (Redemption) comes only when we search for it.

We all search for things in our lives. We search for a soulmate with whom to share our journey. We search for the keys to building our families and having children. We search for a career that is meaningful and fulfilling. We search for friends and mentors, meaning and growth. Sometimes those searches take longer than others. It can feel, at times, pointless. The temptation to throw in the towel, rather than continue searching, is there. And we have to make a choice. Are we going to give up and move on, settle for the status quo, or keep searching until we find what we are looking for? When something is צפון (hidden) will we keep being מצפה (looking forward and expecting to eventually find it)?

I wish us all this Pesach that we should find the beauty in the search itself (not just in the end result). Put out those 10 pieces of bread. Open the door for Eliyahu. Hide that Afikoman. Because sometimes it is the search itself which builds character and strength and faith, even when it takes longer than we hoped.

46 on 4/6

Today is my 46th birthday! And it's April 6th (4/6)!

It's funny. I do look forward to my birthday each year. But I also am one of those people who often gets that feeling like, "what have I really accomplished so far?" So birthdays often bring mixed emotions.

But as I get older, I find myself focusing more on process than product, more on the person I am always striving to become than on the person who has done _____ on his resume. 

For a long time I measured my sense of worth by my perception of what I thought other people thought of me. And while I am not going to pretend that that doesn't matter to me, as I get older I am more interested in whether I feel like I have grown in the past year, and whether I feel like I am on a path of growth for the coming year. Because it's not about how far you have come, but about where your journey will take you next.

I find myself grateful for the people in my life. I am blessed with the most loving and supportive family. I am married to my best friend. And my biggest pride in life is not my resume, but my 3 amazing children.

So maybe I'm feeling a little sentimental. But cut me some slack. It's my birthday! And I'm having surgery tomorrow which makes me reflective. Here are a few things I have learned along the way so far. I can't wait to continue learning even more:

1) Appreciate the people in your life. Don't take them for granted. Tell them what they mean to you.

2) Don't stress over the things that don't really matter. Do your Hishtadlut (effort and preparation) and leave the rest to Hashem.

3) Be kind to others. When you walk into a room don't focus on where you will feel most comfortable. Look for where you can make others feel good.

4) Stay humble. It's better to shine a spotlight on others than on yourself. The best feeling in the world is when you help someone else see their own value and discover their signature strengths.

5) Be Curious. Always look to learn new things. Read, read, and read some more. Every few years I discover areas that I never realized were so fascinating. This world is incredible and all we have to do is open our eyes.

6) It's ok to recharge with alone time. I find people really interesting. I believe that you can talk to any person on planet earth and find something fascinating and meaningful about their lives. But I also know that sometimes I need to refuel by being alone. That's ok.

7) Look beneath the surface. There's almost always something deeper than what you see. For example, we are all walking around with certain worries, anxieties, or pains that are invisible to others. When you really look and listen you can connect with other people on a deeper level.

8) Be Creative. It's so much fun to create. You don't have to be a great artist to be creative. All it requires is the willingness to think out of the box, use your imagination, and consider new possibilities.

9) Try to see others' perspectives. I'm writing my dissertation on this topic. Almost all conflicts melt away if we learn how to look for and respect other perspectives than our own, even if we disagree with them. This is perhaps the most important skill we can learn and we can teach our children.

10) Always feel God's presence in your life. Hashem is inside each and every one of us, in our Neshama (soul). He is with us when we feel joy or sadness, worry or gratitude, anger or love. He is with us when we feel at our best and at our lowest. He is with us when things are clear and when they are cloudy. He is with us when we feel close to Him and when we do not. We are never alone, and He never gives up on us. He knows us better than we know ourselves and never stops believing in us. Nothing can ever get in the way of God's love for us.

Anyway, I could probably keep going. But this list was written quickly, off the top of my head. I wonder how I will feel when I look back at it later. Will I feel like I missed some important things? No doubt. But this is where my head is at on  this 4/6/22 as I turn 46. Thank you to my parents for bringing me into this world and raising me the right way. And thank you to Hashem for bringing me to this point. I pray for many more years of health, happiness, and growth, as I continue on my life journey of becoming the person I am meant to be.

The Thanksgiving Tablecloth

I think I am still full from the Thanksgiving feast last night which we enjoyed with my parents and siblings. Thanksgiving has long been an important holiday in our family. We celebrate the freedoms of living Jewishly in America and take time to appreciate each other as a family. As a kid, my parents would drive us each year from Boston to New York to celebrate with our Grandparents. Extended uncles, aunts, and cousins would gather together to reconnect. And then we would stay for a quieter Shabbat. Though the drive could be long due to traffic, we looked forward to it every year. There were certain "characters" that you looked forward to seeing, as well as annual rituals and jokes that never got old.

As adults we now gather at my parents home. When we lived in Florida and then Texas we often could not make it for Thanksgiving. But now that we live in the same town as my parents and brother it is a relaxing weekend, sans travel, of being with family, raking leaves, and reading good books. We are so grateful to live near family finally and are excited to see family members who come in for the weekend.

For many years Thanksgiving involved little babies and children. Now, the youngest grandchildren, our twins, are in High School. In fact, we are in the 1st few years of the stage where these grandchildren are getting married, so slowly but surely our family, bli ayain harah, is growing even bigger.

My parents always get a sentimental look over their faces at some point in the meal, enjoying having everyone together. The way my mother puts it is "my chickens are all under one roof." We video chat with anyone who is not able to make it in person that year. This year, Baruch Hashem, my parents have two grandchildren who have made Aliyah and are living in Israel!

The food is delicious, though I hope you will not lose respect for me if I admit that I am not a fan of Turkey. I enjoy the meat soup, the hot dogs in a blanket, the brisket, the sweet potato pie (a Grandma Levitt special that we carry on), the stuffing, and the many pies for dessert. We go around and share things we are grateful for. We take turns watching football in the den while we digest. Now that the grandkids are grown it is so fun to schmooze with them and catch up.

But the most important ritual we have is the Thanksgiving Tablecloth. Going on about 20 or so years now, this tradition is something to which we all look forward. We each take a different color permanent marker and write something on the tablecloth. We write our name and the year as well. It can be something for which we are thankful, something funny, or a family update. After Thanksgiving my mother-in-law or sister-in-law embroider over the ink so that it lasts forever. 

I think we are just about to complete our 2nd tablecloth and might have to start a 3rd next year. It is fascinating to look over some of the entries from the past. You can see traces of hands and feet, funny quotes, birth updates, political opinions, sports celebrations, jokes, and so much more. You can see the life of a family over time. And we enjoy reading old entries and reminiscing about the past. Our kids can not only read what their Great Grandparents wrote before they died, but even trace their hands over their handwriting. This year our daughter in Israel asked us to find the spot where she had written a few years ago "Where I Am This Year: Junior Year Stern College. Thinking Of Doing Graphic Design In Israel." And to add "Did It 2021!" My entry this year, to mark this moment in our family history, was short and sweet: "Baruch Hashem for Vaccines - 2021." Last year we were able to be together outdoors, in socially distant pods. But this year we are all vaccinated and were able to be together inside again.

It is important for families to have traditions and rituals, to share stories and repeat old jokes. To show the younger generation that we can overcome all challenges by sticking together, and that they should never take each other for granted. I am grateful to be part of such a loving family and excited to see how our story continues.

You could take away the football, the hot dogs in a blanket, the multicolored leaves, and it would still be Thanksgiving. But it just wouldn't feel the same without the Thanksgiving Tablecloth. It's what brings us together as a family and it will continue to do so for many years to come.

Wishing you and yours a Happy Thanksgiving

It's Been Quite An Odyssey

Driving home today I noticed that our Honda Odyssey minivan is at 99,999 miles. Which is amazing for a lot of reasons, especially considering that it is 14 years old. We bought this car the same week that our twins were born. I remember going to the dealership with my dad that Sunday and saying "we're not buying a car today. We're just going to look." But our family of 3 had just grown to 5 and we got a good deal. Who would have known that, bli ayin harah, this car is still taking us places all these years later.

Over the years this van drove us to school and did carpool to practices. It took us on road trips from Florida to New Jersey and from Houston to Santa Fe, and moved us and our stuff from Florida to Texas and later from Texas to Maryland. It protected us through two accidents and one blown out tire on the highway. It survived flooding and having its entire carpeting replaced. It has lived in 5 different homes over the years and seen its precious cargo grow from infants to teenagers. Our eldest learned how to drive in it and later used it to move into college and to get to the airport for her Aliyah.

I hope we will have a lot longer with this car. But she is starting to show her age a bit. At some point we will have to replace her. Even though she is just a car, she represents a lot of memories and has played an important role in our family. So here's to our Honda Odyssey who has been a big part of our journey. Thank you for the ride.

My Favorite Jewish Moment Of The Year

Simchat Torah is unlike any other day of the Jewish year. We dance with the Torah, bless the children together under the Tallit, and give each member of the community an Aliyah. I know different shuls may have different minhagim. And I know that not everyone finds it easy to connect via dancing. Simchat Torah can feel, at times, a little Hefker. Some people are dancing. Others are already getting aliyot. Some attend a shiur. Others are making kiddush. Children are running around. No one seems to know exactly when Kol HaNearim will start. Like I said, Simchat Torah is different.

Growing up, there were two main things I looked forward to on Simchat Torah (other than, of course, the candy bags). Both may have been unique to our shul in Boston. One was the custom we kids had to find two men standing around during Hakafot and try to tie their Tallit strings together so that when their conversation ended and they went their separate ways their Tallitot would not go with them. The adults would shoo us away like flies, but we found great pleasure in trying to get away with this. Looking back now, I suspect there may have been a few men with a twinkle in their eye who pretended not to notice so that we could feel Simcha on this special day. The other thing we looked forward to, even though we didn't understand half the jokes, was the Meshugane Rebbe, a performance of two men in the community who did a routine from the Bimah in which one member pretended to be a visiting Rebbe who spoke only Yiddish, while the other acted as his translator. The translation never matched the Yiddish, I am told, and that's where all the jokes came from. I didn't catch the punchlines, but will never forget the image of all the grownups laughing hysterically in shul. As a kid, Simchat Torah was a clear message that Judaism is a religion of joy and that having fun, even in shul, was ok.

As I got older, however, and started to fall in love with learning Torah, I gained a very different appreciation for Simchat Torah, chaos and all. The idea of really rejoicing over the gift called Torah is something special if you allow yourself to get into it. It was most likely in Yeshiva that Hakafot really started being special. I know teenagers often have more energy than some of us adults, but letting the singing penetrate our souls, and using our entire body to celebrate Torah, brings a feeling that is hard to reach throughout the year.

But I still haven't gotten to the highlight of the day for me. My absolute #1 favorite moment of the Jewish year. And that is when we come back together to finish reading the Torah, and then open a 2nd Torah and start reading all over again from the beginning. It gets me every time. The special trop, the chuppah (or tallit) over the bimah, the fanfare given to Chatan Torah and Chatan Bereishit, the Chazak Chazak V'Nitchazek. I just find the entire symbolism of finishing and starting over again so powerful. Like the Hadran we recite when making a siyum, which pledges that we hope to return and learn this sefer again, Simchat Torah is a communal, even National, Siyum HaTorah, in which we celebrate everything we have learned this past year and pledge to keep learning even more deeply in the year to come.

There's a beautiful story brought down in the sefer Hegyonei Halacha (vol. 3) by Rav Yitzchak Mirsky. There was a man standing off to the side during Hakafot. The Rabbi approached him to invite him to join the dancing. But the man said, I didn't learn much Torah this year so what right so I have to dance with it like all of you? The Rabbi smiled and reminded the gentleman that there are two Chatanim on Simchat Torah. The Chatan Torah for finishing the Torah and the Chatan Breishit for starting it again. Even if you don't feel like the Chatan Torah who learned a lot, you can still be the Chatan Breishit who has hopes to start learning now.

This is why this moment is my Jewish highlight of the year. There are other great moments as well. Neilah of Yom Kippur, the Pesach Seder, Shavuot night... But on Simchat Torah, we remind ourselves that there is no such thing as ever finishing Torah, that each time we open it we find new meanings and new inspiration. So this year, try to lean into the chaos of Simchat Torah a little bit more. Tie someone's Tallit. Put a child on your shoulders and dance. And make sure to be there as we finish reading the Torah and immediately start again.

Chag Sameach