It’s been a very challenging time these past days. 

We have heard of our precious brethren in Israel being senselessly murdered in cold blood. 

How are we to move forward in the face of such pain?

Sivan Rahav Meir, Israeli Torah teacher and news correspondent, shared a letter that was written by a third grade student to the family of his murdered teacher, Rabbi Avishai Yechezkel of blessed memory. 

In his letter, the student wrote poignantly about the role model his teacher was and the excitement he brought daily  to the lessons, and the joy he created in the classroom. 

The student mentioned a number of specific lessons that he learned from his teacher:

Always care for the feelings of your friend

Study well

Be nice to your friends

Be careful with your speech. 

The student concludes the long letter by saying his teacher never missed an opportunity to teach his class important life lessons and signs off telling the family

“You were privileged to have a father like this”!

This was written by a third grader. 

What a teacher - and what a student!

This coming Shabbat is called Shabbat HaChodesh as we read from the Torah portion that explains the commandment of sanctifying the new month. 

Our Sages teach us this is an indication that this is a time of renewal, an opportunity to create a fresh start. 

This commandment was given to the Jewish people while they were still in Egypt. 

In Hebrew, Egypt is called Mitzrayim. A maytzar is a strait, a very narrow place. While we were in the darkest hour in the most depraved place, Gd showed us that we can start afresh and move forward. 

Each and every one of us have our own personal Egypt, that narrow place that does not allow us to expand to our fullest  potential, we have to remember  that we are not mired in the old story. 

One falls into routine. 

We feel stuck and unable to move forward. But this time of year has the spiritual energy to propel us forward. 

To renew. 

I am not a sports fan. 

When my children were growing up, they loved baseball,  and were thrilled to attend a game at any opportunity. 

At some point, the kids noticed that I always had an excuse not to join them. 

I realized I needed to bite the bullet and go with my kids to one of those games and share an experience that was so important to them. 

Now this is when I am really venturing into true confessions. 

I brought along a book. 

Just in case. 

I cannot tell you one thing about the game, other than we seemed to be sitting very far from the ground. 

But the book…it was awesome, I completed it by the bottom of the ninth. 

I had squirreled away in my bag a book entitled “Tuesdays with Morrie”. If you haven’t had a chance to read it, this is a true story of the end of life conversations a student had with his favorite college professor. These final goodbye talks took place over a series of Tuesdays over span of many months. 

The book discusses a number of themes among them, the value of silence. 

The author shares  a vignette describing a class he once had with Morrie in college. 

Morrie came into class sat down and didn’t say anything. The silence stretched on and became deep and uncomfortable. Yet with the passage of time in silence, the students started noticing every little sound in the room. Some of the students became fidgety while others gazed out the the window in boredom until finally, Morrie, the professor, whispers “what’s happening here?”  

And with that begins a discussion begins about the effect of silence on relationships. 

Rabbi Boruch Leff also loved this section of “Tuesdays with Morrie” and he teaches that “noise let’s us ignore our most precious possession, our true and profound selves”. 

The noise allows us to distract ourselves from dealing with what is truly happening around us. 

Rabbi Leff shares that the Maharal, 16 th century commentator, teaches that speech is derived from the physical facet of a person, while silence allows one to tap into one’s spiritual dimension. 

We are a soul with a body. 

The body does best when it’s guided by the soul. 

So the Maharal teaches, there is nothing better for the body than silence.  

We can hear the quietest noises, we can hear our innermost selves, perhaps we can even hear our souls.

Sometimes being silent is difficult. 

There are also different types of silence. 

Ever been subjected to the “silent treatment”? 

Even though no words of anger are articulated, the anger that is expressed is sharp, biting and painful. 

We almost want to cry out “just say something already, the silence is deafening!”

This kind of silence creates distance, a wall which separates two individuals from one another. 

Happy Purim Y’all!

You may be thinking, is it Thursday night already?

No it is not!

While we did lose an hour with the changing of the clocks, you did not lose a day. 

But, Purim is about the unexpected becoming reality, so even though you are not expecting to hear from me, Purim is here and we want to be in the mood!

Today, Batsheva sent out a precious clip of her daughter Racheli, which was recorded a few years ago. In that short video, a young, but very poised and articulate child expressed a very sublime thought. 

She shared that her teacher observed that the princesses we learn about in fairy tales are damsels in distress, waiting to be saved by their prince. 

But Jewish princesses, (and I don’t mean JAPs, those who know, know) are courageous leaders who take the mantle and bring about the salvation as a result of their actions. 

They do not wait for anyone to save them!

Our Queen Esther is a case in point. 

Esther was an orphan. Her father died before she was born, her mother in childbirth. 

It is hard to imagine someone from such challenging circumstances becoming the queen who would save her people. 

The Megillah, or scroll, Esther wrote, is a testimony to the eternal message she conveys to each of us. 

After the Purim story concluded, Esther had to argue that her book would become canonized, as a part of the 24 books of the Tanach, but she was successful because the message of the book is for the ages. 

In the Book, Esther reveals the secret of Jewish continuity, of Jewish survival. 

The arch villain, Haman,  levels an accusation against the Jews, in his desire to find an excuse to be rid of us he states to the King of Persia, that the  Jews are scattered and dispersed among all the people in the provinces of the Persian realm. He is casting aspersions. 

But, sadly, it is the truth.

We had lost our sense of community, of purpose, of peace in our family. 

So when Esther is asked to step up and plead for her nation in the face of imminent destruction she counters with an instruction of her own. 

She commands Mordechai, her uncle, who is the leader of the Jewish nation, to gather the people. 

She instructs all to pray for our salvation together. 

Let them pray as a community that my plan to save our people will be successful. 

She teaches us that only when we are united will we be able to overcome and  survive the annihilation attempt directed our way. 

When Esther is ultimately successful in her efforts, she records the events in her book, words which are referred to as words of peace, and the book actually ends with the verbiage of peace, because she has succeeded in uniting us as one. 

Not only does Esther leave us with the mantra of connection, she even gives us the practical formula to achieve this goal.  

When I became a mother I spent a great deal of time choosing the perfect stroller. 

I researched and investigated till I made my choice. 

I finally bought the stroller of my dreams. 

I hated it.

The stroller was clumsy and hard to manage, unwieldy and annoying, but I had to live with my choice for a long time - at least until I could justify buying a better model. 

Any Mom can relate to my story. 

That is perhaps why the images of the empty baby strollers left by Moms for Moms at a train station in Poland, reduced me to tears. 

It’s 2022!

How could we be so quickly thrown back in time when mothers have become refugees overnight, escaping war and random destruction with their babes in arms and nothing else. 

My own dear Mother ran from Germany in summer of 1939. She was a young child, and she and her parents escaped, almost at the last minute. 

When they reached the border of Germany, they were removed from the train. 

Their papers were not in order. 

My Mother still talks of the pity she saw on the faces of the passengers who remained aboard the train. She was petrified. 

The problem was corrected and they left Germany the next day. 

That was more that was more than 80 years ago. 

In the interim my Mom has lived, and please Gd will continue to live, a beautiful life. 

However, a number of years ago she shared with my a shocking statement. 

She told me that if you would wake her up in the middle of the night and ask her who she was, she said she would answer: refugee. 

So much trauma, so much loss and loneliness. 

It was only when she moved to Israel that my Mother felt she was finally home. 

Jewish Women’s Connection of Atlanta had the opportunity to participate in a Momentum retreat this past week. It was a wonderful opportunity to reconnect with dear friends and study together with the one and only team of Adrienne Gold and Lori Palatnik. 

One of the activities that took place during the retreat was an eye opener. 

It was called Stand For Your Sister. 

Each person was given a questionnaire to answer anonymously. Some of the questions were superficial and even silly while others were deep and introspective. Once the form was complete it was handed in and the entire stack of papers was dealt out indiscriminately. Then the questions were read aloud. If your paper had a yes to the question read, you would stand. There was no embarrassment  as the answers we were responsible for were actually not our own. 

(At one point Adrienne even commented that she had to remind herself that we were not actually standing for ourselves. Looking right at me she said, the question i just read is have you ever hid your Jewish identity and I am looking at Julie standing in a positive response which couldn’t be!

I then had to reveal that I had indeed answered the question with a yes. I related the story of a business trip I had taken many years ago. I was going to a meeting in NYC and I was dressed to the nines, even sporting my Mom’s mink coat,faux of course, and feeling very sophisticated. As I waited at the luggage carousel, a Chassidic gentleman came over to me and in Yiddish, asked me if I could give him a ride to Brooklyn. I was so disappointed! How could he tell?!?  But I digress)

There was only one question to which every one of us stood up, as one. And that question was...did you ever feel alone?

Every single woman stood. Every woman not only stood with her sister,

She stood for herself. 

Last week we talked about feeling invisible. 

It seemed to strike a chord. 

Many strong, accomplished and successful women shared with me that they felt the words were speaking directly to them. 

We need to take the time to really see the people in our lives. 

Because even those who seem to have it all, are in need of attention, validation and empathy.

Everyone needs to be seen for who they really are - everyone needs to count. 

Rabbi Aryeh Levin who was known as The Tzadik (the holy man) of Jerusalem, for his selfless work on behalf of those in need, once came upon a soldier he knew, who was home on military leave. The Rabbi crossed the street, greeted the soldier and invited him home for a glass of tea. The soldier demurred. He felt he couldn’t join the Rabbi as he no longer wore a kippah. Rabbi Levin took the soldier’s hand in his own and said “I am short, I cannot see high enough to see you your head. But I can see your heart and your heart is big. You are a soldier willing to sacrifice for us all. Please come drink tea with me. Your kippa is bigger than mine.”

Rabbi Levin saw to the heart of the matter. He could really perceive the man who stood before him. 

This week’s Torah portion is called Ki Tisa, which means when you lift the head (of the Jewish people). 

The portion begins with Gd commanding Moses to take a census of the Jewish people. 

The methodology used to take the census is not by counting people, but rather by having each individual donate a half shekel coin and counting those coins instead. 

Counting actual people is forbidden. 

When you count people you objectify them. 

We lose sight of the essence of the person. 

Nonetheless Gd still commanded Moses to take a census. 

Why?

We are learning that a census is not about counting each individual, it’s about making every individual count. 

That is why the Torah starts the census with the unusual language of lifting up everyone’s head, because when we recognize the special qualities of each individual we lift that person and help them realize their power and potential. 

Sometimes we look at others through our glasses, and sometimes we see someone through the reflection of a mirror. 

Do you ever feel invisible?

Sometimes one can be at a large gathering (remember those?), and despite the crush of people and the large crowd, a person can feel very alone. 

A person may feel that no one sees them at all. 

In this week’s Torah portion which is called Tetzave, there is someone very important who seems to be invisible. 

In this week’s portion Moses is not mentioned at all. 

This is surprising because from the time Moses’ birth is recorded, he has featured prominently. 

Yet in this portion his name is eerily absent. 

Our Sages teach us that this is a result of a conversation that Moses will have with Gd in the future regarding the Sin of the Golden Calf. That sin was a deep betrayal in the relationship between the Jewish people and Gd. Gd decides the Jewish people are not worthy of existence and Gd tells Moses he will destroy them and begin a new nation from Moses. Moses rises to the defense of his people and says:

Gd if you will destroy them, then erase me from your Book. Moses was willing to give up his eternity, his entire legacy, and be erased. 

Become invisible. 

While this statement turns the tide and begins a process of repentance, the statement stands and Gd is going to erase Moses name from one the books, one of the Parshas. 

This is the one. 

One explanation why this Parsha was chosen is because Moses said erase me from your book! 

In Hebrew,  your book is Sifrecha. 

Sefer means book, cha  is the suffix which means yours. In Hebrew every letter has a numerical value and the suffix of “Cha” is equivalent to the number 20. 

So Moses might be saying erase me from your Book #20. 

This is the 20 th Parsha and Gd took Moses quite literally and erased his name from the 20 th book. 

But while we don’t actually see Moses in this Parsha, we are very aware that he is there. 

He is wearing a mask, he is behind the scenes, and we are well aware that he was completely willing to negate himself, to obliterate himself on behalf of his People. 

Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi, popular Israeli Torah teacher likens this scenario to the lot of many a woman. 

Sometimes we are doing so much for others we wonder, Where am I in this picture?

She teaches us to learn from Moses to recognize, that in our efforts to take care of all in our orbit, to provide constantly for the needs of others, we have not disappeared at all. 

We are providing the critical tools for existence and survival to those we love. 

It’s almost as if we are hiding in full sight. 

Sort of like wearing a mask. 

I was given a very special gift in honor of my recent birthday. 

Some very dear friends arranged a short, but very therapeutic, visit to Miami. 

The sounds of the ocean, the waves hitting the beach in never ending rhythm, were a balm for my soul. I am eternally grateful for the thoughtful gift I was given. 

It really rebuilt me. 

I felt so loved. 

On the way to the hotel, we passed a crater in the ground. Our Uber driver told us this was the site of the fateful Surfside building collapse where so many lost their lives. 

It was sobering to see how deep the foundation was for this seemingly strong edifice. Now it’s a sanitized spot, all the debris has been cleared, and one must use imagination to conjure up the households that had created a beautiful symphony in this place, a constant rhythm of loving and giving that is no more. 

This week we read the Torah portion called Terumah which teaches us how to build a house. 

While many of us may be interested in designing or renovating our domiciles, it may be hard to understand why the Torah describes the building of a Sanctuary for Gd in such exquisite detail, devoting more than 400 verses to the task. 

This is in stark contrast to the account of the creation story which includes the design and formation of every creature on the planet and every organism in the entire universe in a mere 40 verses or so. 

Furthermore, while the dimensions of the Tabernacle building and all the vessels within require verses upon verses to capture, we may often learn reams of law from just a letter. 

There must be some eternal lessons which can be derived from all the details. 

The portion begins “and they shall make Me a sanctuary and I will dwell in them”

Shouldn’t the verse read build me a sanctuary and I will dwell in IT? 

If Gd is creating a sacred place to rest Gd’s presence, it’s not possible for it to be in a physical space. 

Gd is above space. 

Rather Gd needs to find an appropriate place to dwell. 

Rabbi Yaakov Chaim Sofer, a Kabbalist who lived in the late 1800s, explains that the purpose of building the Tabernacle was not to have a physical place for Gd to dwell, but rather that Gd should be able to live within the people. If the people would make themselves holy, Gd could dwell among them, meaning within each one. 

How do we make ourselves holy? 

How do we make a loving space which is welcoming to Gd and all?

So, one time, I met Adonis. 

Before you come to any wrong conclusions, Adonis - not as in a Greek God, nor Adonis as in someone strikingly handsome;

rather, a guy, whose name was actually Adonis. 

The burdens we place on our children, right!

Anyway, Batsheva and I had ordered a couch for our Jwcatlanta office and delivery was scheduled-with and by Adonis, who turned out to be a very affable gentleman. 

We exchanged pleasantries as he maneuvered the furniture through the door. The delivery took place on a very hot day and once the couch was installed, Adonis gratefully accepted the bottle of water we offered and sank down on the new couch.  He then turned to me conversationally and asked me how many years it’s been since I left Manhattan. 

I looked at him in surprise as I pride myself on my non New Yorker accent, but I guess a discerning ear can still perceive the intonation. 

But then he really shocked me by asking me exactly where on the Upper West Side of Manhattan I had lived. 

Then my mouth really dropped. No one has ever been able to discern that nuance!

Turns out, Adonis is a former policeman who’s beat was the Upper Westside of Manhattan. After I got over my shock at his perspicacity, he explained that his success as an officer was a result of his intense focus on the people in his orbit. He made it his business to listen carefully to every person he interacted with and to SEE each person in their challenges and pain. This led to his ability degree to recognize the subtlety of the accents  of his denizens and to know exactly where they came from. 

This week’s Torah portion is called Mishpatim which means laws. 

I am so grateful for Waze. 

I have a terrible sense of direction and being told something is East of that or South of the other makes me shake my head in confusion. 

(It only works in Manhattan where there is a grid.)

Navigating through new terrain is really a challenge for me and many a time I break into a sweat and my breath becomes a  bit ragged as I consider whether to go left or right.

My husband has tried to help me with this challenge with some wonderful advice, by suggesting that once I have ascertained which way I should go, I should then do the opposite, as that is most probably the way to go.

Thank goodness for GPS.

This week’s Torah portion is called Yitro. It is named after the father in law of Moses who was a religious leader at the time. 

The Zohar, foundational book of Jewish mysticism, teaches that Yitro was the highest ranking priest of idol worship. All the other priests were waiting to see his reaction to the miracles that had occurred and they would follow his lead. 

When Yitro heard about the splitting of the sea and the Jewish people successfully overcoming their first battle against the nation of Amalek, he left his home and joined the Jewish nation on their journey. 

Yitro’s reaction was unique. 

Despite the fact that the entire civilized world knew of the miracles that had occurred they were not moved to action. 

Yitro took the miraculous phenomena to heart.

And then he took it one step further by actively joining the Jewish people. 

He clearly knew which way to go. 

He teaches us that it’s not enough to hear about cataclysmic events, they must inspire us to  move forward on the right path. 

Yitro also teaches us another lesson. 

As he drew near to the encampment of the Jewish people, the Parsha describes a seemingly minor detail. 

Moses had been separated from his family and now Yitro was going to bring them to rejoin Moses. 

The Torah mentions that Yitro sent a message to Moses saying

“I, your father in law Yitro,  am coming to you with your wife and her two sons with her”. This Parsha contains within it the Ten Commandments, the Gd given principles that will shape humanity forever. 

Why does the Torah take the time to share the seemingly irrelevant “telegram” that Yitro sent in advance of his arrival?

The Seforno, 16th century commentator answers that the purpose of communication was just to inform Moses that they were coming. As opposed to just barging in, and appearing unexpectedly, without warning, Yitro made sure to politely communicate his arrival. 

His mother taught him well. 

The story is told  that a crate of parakeets which was in transit at Kennedy airport in Néw York City somehow fell and  broke open. The exotic birds flew free,  and were spotted on wires and telephone poles in various parts of the five boroughs to the surprise and delight of even the most blasé New Yorker. 

I don’t know if this actually happened , but I myself was witness to seeing a magnificent flock of these birds while  at the home of a dear friend who lives in Brooklyn. I was visiting her one winter day and as we had our morning coffee I looked out her window and saw a large bird feeder covered from head to toe with the most beautiful parakeets with vibrant green plumage. As a New Yorker I had never seen anything like it. That’s when she told me the story about the fractured crate. And she concluded by telling me that her neighbor would put out bird feed and every morning the birds would come and feast on the feed. 

That’s what birds do. 

If you put out the crumbs, they will come. 

It’s only natural. 

This week’s Torah portion is called Beshalach and it reports on something supernatural. The portion focuses on the epic miracles that accompanied the Jewish nation as they escaped their Egyptian slave masters. 

As the nation flees they are faced with the waters of the sea in front of them which stops them in their tracks.   It seems they are trapped and then a miracle of vast proportions takes place, the sea splits and the Jewish people cross over in safety. The sea crashes down on the pursuing Egyptians and the Israelites are safe at last. 

It’s an epic miracle. 

Yet, as the Jewish nation begins to  travel in the desert the people are hungry and complain.  They forget about the huge miracle they just witnessed. 

The Almighty responds to their cries with yet another miracle by providing Manna, a heretofore unknown foodstuff, that miraculously falls from the sky. 

This food was unusual. 

If you would think about a succulent steak, that’s what the Manna would taste like to you. If a person would think about a vegan burger, voila so be it. Whatever a person would think about so would be the taste. 

The saintly Chofetz Chaim, Rabbi Yisroel Meir Kagan, Jewish leader from the 1900s, asked, what happened if a person wouldn’t think? 

What would be the taste of the Manna?

He answers that the Manna would have no taste at all.

If we are not mindful, if we don’t think or pay attention, we will be missing the depth of the experience, the richness and taste of the gift we have been given.  

The seeds of mindfulness were sprouted with the Manna. 

On one of JWCATLANTA’s trips to Israel I was witness to a “coincidence”. 

One of the participants had arrived a few days early and was extremely disappointed that her suitcase had gotten lost in transit. The airline assured her it would not be long until she would be reunited with her belongings. Our participant was fortunately traveling with a generous group of friends who made sure to provide her with whatever was needed until the errant suitcase would arrive. When I met up with this group they had already been in Israel for four days and still - no suitcase. 

By now the novelty of enjoying everyone else’s stuff had totally worn off and the woman in question was quite ready to be reunited with her own. Strangely enough though, 

the suitcase had completely gone off the grid. The airline’s data base indicated the suitcase had reached its destination and could offer no explanation. 

After I heard this tale of woe in Ben Gurion airport, just as we were about to load our bus and begin our trip, my new friend implored me to use the phone in the arrivals hall and call the airline one more time, perhaps a miracle had occurred and somehow the suitcase was found. I  picked up the phone and  was promptly put on an interminable hold, my friend hovering anxiously nearby. Finally a representative answered and I began the  tale in my best Hebrew, focusing intently because I may be Israeli, but my spoken Hebrew is a little rusty. All of a sudden I notice my friend, frantically waving at me, trying to catch my attention. I ask the patient and helpful representative to wait (ok, I am being a little cynical). My friend points to a cute, quite elderly couple, dragging a large suitcase between them. 

She says to me - that’s my bag, I am sure of it. 

I hang up on the attentive rep from the airline and go over to the couple and ask them about the bag. They begin to tell me in very excited tones with many dramatic hand motions, that they recently returned from a trip abroad and had, by accident, taken the wrong bag from the airport. As they lived in the North of the country, this was their first opportunity in four days to try to return the bag, but they didn’t know what to do. It was an amazing moment when I was able to explain to this couple that the rightful owner was standing right before them, eternally grateful to accept the bag. 

A coincidence right?

I have two grandsons, who are brothers, and their names are Moshe (Moses) and Aaron. A cute set of names for brothers. 

And they get along, mostly! 

In fact, Moshe came home with some candy this week and actually shared some with his bro!

What brotherly love!

This week’s Torah portion is Va’era and it is the technicolor, fire and brimstone story of the first seven of the Plagues. 

The Plagues were the punishment meted out to Egypt, measure for a measure, in response to the evil they did the Jewish people throughout the time the Egyptians enslaved them. 

The story is bombastic and huge in scope. 

Yet, there are some very quiet, whispered messages we can glean from the nuances in the verses. 

We are “introduced” to the brothers, Moses and Aaron, who will be the leaders and facilitators of these grand actions. 

They will be the ones to speak to the great Pharaoh, and they will be the ones to lead the Jewish people out of Egypt. 

But strangely enough, sometimes they are called Moses and Aaron and sometimes the order is reversed, and it’s Aaron and Moses. 

Order matters in a duo. 

Usually it’s one, then the other, think Bonnie and Clyde or Batman and Robin, never are the two reversed. 

Our Sages note this unusual fluidity and they teach us this changing in the accounting of their names indicates they were considered equal in one another’s eyes. 

These great leaders had no hubris, they worked in peace and in tandem. It didn’t matter to them who might be considered greater. It did not matter whose name was first. 

This is the sign of a leader. 

It’s the purpose of achieving the goal which drove them, not their own ego. 

How much more can we accomplish as a team, working without competition but rather in harmony. 

This attitude is what allowed them to be the leaders who facilitated the Plagues and the Exodus, it was a huge story, but THEY weren’t the story. 

sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name ...

Am I dating myself by asking who recognizes these lyrics? They are the words of the theme song of the popular 80’s sitcom Cheers. 

The show took place in a pub where people could find comfort and camaraderie to combat the anonymity of living in a big city. It was a gathering place where locals could socialize, and most importantly, was a place where one had a real identity, a name. 

I was talking to a dear friend who had recently attended a funeral. She was sharing that the man who passed away was very taciturn, reclusive, and shy to a fault. It was really hard to get him to speak or engage in conversation. 

But there was one thing that would move him to a response. It meant so much to him when people would call him by his first name. If one would call this gentleman by his name when addressing him, he would stop, and make the superhuman effort to connect and even vocalize his appreciation of this kindness. For him, being mentioned by name meant that he was being seen. This meant a great deal him and was one of the few methods by which he could be pulled out of his shyness. 

This week we begin a new book of the five books of the Torah, namely Exodus. 

The Parsha of this week bears the same name, but in Hebrew the portion is called Shemot,  or Names. 

The very first verse begins

“And these are the names of the children of Israel who are coming to Egypt”

The portion begins with a list of the Tribes, the children of Israel. 

We certainly know the names of Jacob’s, aka, Israel’s sons. They were  the major players in the previous narrative. Why do we need to list them once again?

Rashi, the 11th century commentator on all the Torah answers by saying that even though they were mentioned by name during their lifetime, they are listed once again by name as they are about to pass on from the world stage, in order to inform, or to let it be known, how beloved each one was. Rashi continues by saying they were compared to the stars which are are lovingly brought out each night, counted one by one by name, before they are replaced, so to speak, in the firmament. 

It’s like the loving parent constantly doing roll call by name, to make sure all the precious children are present and accounted for. 

This exemplifies Gd’s love for the Tribes and for all of his creations by calling them by name. 

When parents name a child, they are accessing a sliver of prophecy as they identify the essence of the child by the name they choose. 

Everyone has a weakness. 

Some of us have more than one. 

I will admit to chocolate, pina coladas, jewelry and ... shoes. 

I somehow can always find the need for just one more  pair. 

Of course I don’t have an Imelda Marcos type obsession, not at all. But an extra pair here or there can never hurt. 

Last week I read a story about a pair of shoes which gave a much deeper meaning to this important accessory. 

Rabbi Paysach Krohn, contemporary story teller,shared an amazing vignette. 

This past September he took the opportunity to visit an aunt who lived in Israel. She had survived a terrorist attack years ago. In 2001 there was a bombing in a pizzeria in Jerusalem. (A young woman I personally knew, died in that attack. She was pregnant with her first child!) Rabbi Krohn’s aunt was climbing the steps to the second level of the pizza shop when the bomb detonated. The blast was so powerful it knocked off her shoes. Her daughter, who was with her, tried to help her leave the scene. But there was broken glass everywhere and she had no shoes. The Aunt hesitated and in a moment  of superhuman strength, her daughter lifted her and carried her across the street. As they stood outside,  opposite the smoldering destruction of what had once been Sbarro’s pizza shop, a man approached them with a pair of shoes in hand.  He was the owner of a shoe shop down the street and he wanted to give her a pair of shoes to protect her feet from the shards of glass underfoot. The mother and daughter left the area shortly thereafter, two people who were blessed to walk away unscathed, and able to walk out on their own two feet. 

The aunt told Rabbi Krohn that since that time, whenever life was full of travails and she just felt she couldn’t handle those challenges or she felt she really didn’t  deserve the test she was facing, she would go to her closet and don those shoes. She would put them on to remind herself of the kindness she had experienced. 

The shoes served for her as a talisman that whatever was coming her way she needed to change her focus and pay attention to the gifts within the picture. In this case to recognize she had been gifted the greatest gift of all, the gift of life. 

This weeks Torah portion is called Vayechi, which means, and he lived, referring to our patriarch Jacob and his life. 

But interestingly enough it doesn’t talk about Jacob’s life at all. The portion speaks about how Jacob died. 

It reveals the blessings Jacob bestowed on children and grandchildren at the end of his days, it talks about where he wished to be buried (back in the land of Israel, not in Egypt) and it is a testimony to a life well lived, with all his children following in his path. 

So why is it called VaYechi, and he lived? It should be called And he Died?