Tomorrow night is Rosh Hashana. 
You can feel it in the air. 
I can almost hear it. 
It seems like the background music I’m hearing is shofar blasts. 
I was at a dear friend’s home and her pool generator was humming. 
It sounded an awful lot like a shofar to me. 
My husband is the shofar blower in our synagogue and he practices all month long, the sounds begin to ring in my ears. 
My alarm clock is really starting to sound  like a Shofar. 
Funnily enough - that is the job of the shofar - to awaken us from the status quo, from our spiritual slumber, and be a clarion call to action of some sort. 
All of our holidays have mitzvot, commandments, attached to them. 
Sukkot has the 4 species and the Sukkah. 
Chanukah has the lighting of the Menora. 
Pesach has the Seder. 
All exciting happenings attached to the holiday. 
Rosh Hashana, which is the beginning of the year that contains all these experiences, has only the Shofar. 
The Shofar does not seem to be an exciting artifact. 
As Sivan Rahav Meir explains, it’s a bent ram’s horn in an unexciting color (no psychedelic versions available). 
The Mitzva on Rosh Hashana is to hear the sound of the Shofar. 
We actually do not have to do anything. 
We need to be quiet. 
Not an easy feat. 
We need to listen. 
Even harder. 
The world is a cacophony of sound and the Shofar gives us the gift of listening. 
Hearing one pure, unadulterated clear sound, a Gdly sound, that’s what we are listening for on Rosh Hashana. 
One time a year.

When I got engaged many moons ago, dear friends made us an engagement party. 
I was just learning how many people my husband knew and I quickly was overwhelmed by the crowd. There was no way I would be able to remember the names of all these people. 
Then someone introduced himself to me. 
He said “my name is Gershon Kramer. I’m a really good friend of your future husband. I know you will never remember me with all these individuals you are meeting.”  
I agreed apologetically. 
A few minutes later he came by again and said “hi, my name is Gershon Kramer, I’m a really good friend of your husband to be. I know you won’t remember my name but I just wanted to introduce myself.”
Felt a little de ja vue to me but there were a lot of people coming to say hello. 
Gershon Kramer did this little routine a few more times that evening. 
When I finally got a chance to speak to my husband to be at the end of the night I said-who is Gershon Kramer? It’s the only name I remember. 
Rabbi Robinson of Chicago was giving a class on the opportunities available to us right now in the month of Elul. 
As we mentioned last week, we are taught “the King is in the field”. This is to encourage us to take advantage of the heightened closeness that is available to us in these preparatory days leading up to Rosh Hashana. Rabbi Robinson asked about the usage of the word “field”. If we want to say Gd is close, why don’t we say Gd is in the house? Right close by?
He responded to his question with a story. 
There was a young man who had grown up with a traditional family and some Jewish learning. He got married and moved away from home and also moved away from any vestige of Jewish tradition. One fine, sunny day, he and his wife were sitting on the balcony of their condo overlooking the beach when he noticed below him, a group of people. Upon closer inspection, he was surprised to see that the people were not dressed in typical beachside attire, but rather they were fully dressed in elegant clothes. He could not imagine what was happening. 
All of a sudden a memory was triggered. 

My Mom is wild about me. 
This has nothing to do with the fact that I was an exemplary child. 
I’m a first born, mild mannered, rule follower. 
Easy. 
My Mom was a stay at home Mom who did all the things expected of her. 
All signs of love. 
That is not how I know my Mom is wild about me. 
I know it from the thing she had the hardest time getting me to do.
Learn how to swim. 
My Mom was bound and determined to have me learn to swim. 
Perhaps because she didn’t swim well herself. 
Perhaps because the Mishna says a parent has to make sure a child can swim. 
Maybe it was something else. 
She was determined. 
I, on the other hand, docile, rule follower that I was, had an equal determination to the contrary. 
I could not do it. I would not do it. 
We spent at least a month in England in the summertime and from a young age, swimming instruction was high on the agenda. 
Never mind that it was cold outside and the water freezing and unheated. 
Never mind that I couldn’t put my head under water. 
I would not do it. 
Stamp my foot couldn’t do it. 
We went to every local  pool and tried every instructor. 
When we went to Israel, I knew if there was a pool at the hotel my Mom was already canvassing for a teacher. 
She never met a pool that didn’t have an instructor available.she never gave up on me. 
She knew I could do this. 
When we were kids we saw a comic movie in Israel about a Sephardi man who had eight daughters and desperately wanted a son. In one scene by a pool, I watched the scene unfold and then I laughed out loud. The lifeguard in the movie had been one of my myriad swim teachers. 
Miraculously, because my Mom never gave up  - I eventually learned how to swim. 
Even more wondrously - I love to swim. 
Either every stroke I take I feel my Mother’s love and her unabated faith in me. 
I know something about you. 
Your Father is wild about you. 

Hello dear sisters. 
I hope your summer was wonderful in every way. 
Now we are already in preparation for the upcoming holiday season. 
This week’s Torah portion is called Ki Teitzei which means “when you go out”. 
It refers to the laws that affect a person when they go out to war. 
This week’s Parsha contains 74 mitzvot which is the greatest amount of mitzvot or commandments in any one particular Parsha. The laws are thematically defined by the Torah creating a framework of holiness and dignity which will help each individual lead an uplifted and holy life. 
The first commandment refers to a Jewish soldier who sees a beautiful woman in the course of warfare and wants to marry her. From time immemorial, women have been subjected to horrible abuse as a result of war. Such behavior is not acceptable in a Jewish army. A soldier who sees such a woman is not allowed yo take her in a fit of passion. He must follow a prescribed course of rules which include waiting a month which will allow passions to cool and the intellect to prevail. 
In a Jewish army, rape and abuse of women is unacceptable. 
Women are not the spoils of war. The Torah teaches that war is not a license for licentiousness. 
This commandment helps to define the uplifted behavior which defines a Jew. 
We can also understand these words of “when you go to war” in a deeper level. 
Our Sages interpret this to be a description of our personal war, our struggles within ourselves to overcome our “enemies” the struggles we have that slow us down from achieving our best self. 
So in this month of Elul, the month preceding the High Holidays, we are enjoined to “go out”, to go to war so to speak and be proactive in the process of creating the pathways to personal growth and good choices. 

Hey y’all. 
When we moved to Atlanta many years ago we had to go downtown to conclude some insurance dealings. 
It was before Waze and even GPS (like I said, a long time ago) and it didn’t take long till we were hopelessly lost. 
In an attempt to find our way, we pulled up next to a group of utility workers to ask for directions. 
The conversation started with
“Hey y’all”. 
It was our first taste of the famous Southern Hospitality. 
Unfortunately, the rest of the conversation remained a mystery as we were unable to understand another word. 
In Pirkei Avot, Ethics of Our Fathers, Chapter 4, Mishna 15 there is a teaching credited to Rabbi Matia Ben Harash who says “Be the first to greet every person”
This teaching instructs us to be quick and take the initiative to say “hello” first. By immediately acknowledging another, one celebrates the value of the person being encountered. 
Sometimes it’s not easy to say hello first. 
It may feel awkward or socially “off”. But our Sages teach us to put aside our own insecurities and focus on the other, it’s worth the discomfort to make someone else feel seen. 
We all know how powerful this maxim can prove to be. 
Imagine walking in to a party, all alone, not knowing a soul. 
Then one friendly person reaches out and says hello. 
It’s as if a life preserver was tossed to save someone who is drowning. 
There are many stories told of people who were in a state of despair, whose lives were turned around by a thoughtful and friendly hello. 
It’s such a small word yet it has a vast impact.  
The Talmud teaches us of the great Sage, Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai who is praised for always being the first to greet everyone he met, no matter who they were. 
This behavior points to something profound. 
By greeting one other, we treat the person with respect and honor, in fact we recognize their inherent greatness. 
That is why Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai was known for this trait.  You could never beat him in the race to say” Hey y’all”, he would always be first. He did so because despite his greatness as the leader of the community, he never lost sight of the greatness of everyone else, extending the hello which meant “you matter”. 

My Dad was a world traveler. 
I should really amend that statement. 
My Dad worked for an international firm which necessitated his traveling to many exotic locations. 
For long stretches of time. 
When I was a little girl I missed my Dad very much. 
When he would return from a long trip the first question I would ask him was how long he would be staying home. 
The spectre of his prolonged journeys haunted me. 
When he would return, he would regale us with some stories of  his travels. 
For example , he spoke about India and the cows commandeering the streets, making mention that I would be very unhappy amongst the free roaming animals. 
Or South America,  the home of the llama. 
My sister and I probably had the dubious distinction of having the largest collection of llama jewelry on the planet. I always wondered how he managed to find these pieces until it finally occurred to me when I grew older, that he probably purchased these trinkets in the airport on his way home which explains the llama theme from his years of travel to the land where llamas roam. 
My Dad was a pragmatic person and not typically the poetic type, but I best remember his description of a visit to the Amazon (the longest river in the world, not the largest online retailer in the world). 
His journey to that region included a Shabbat and he told us his experience standing by the banks of the river and reciting the Kabbalat Shabbat, the prayers that usher in Shabbat by himself. He pondered that it might have been the first time those prayers had been uttered in that place. 
As a person who kept the dietary laws, my Dad packed carefully, dedicating an entire suitcase to sardines, salami and Matza along with other tasteless non perishable items which ensured he wouldn’t  starve. 
When I was young I thought it was all very glamorous. 
I felt sorry for myself that my Dad was away on these journeys for such long stretches of time. 
It was only later in life that I realized that the person who suffered the most on these journeys - was my Dad. 
He was separated from his family for weeks at a time, subsisting on packaged and awful food,  (sardines - ugh 😑) with the goal to provide for his family. 

Ever feel like you are in dire straits?
Ever wonder what “dire straits” actually means?
Some of you might think it’s a reference to a 1970’s British rock band with the same name. 
They actually chose their name to reference their position in life at the time - struggling and broke. 
To be in dire straits means to be in a difficult or even desperate situation. The phrase originates from 19th century nautical terminology. “Straits are narrow and treacherous passages of water that need to be navigated carefully” Merriam-Webster. 
There is actually a period in the Hebrew calendar which is called “between the straits” and it starts today and continues for three weeks. 
Today is the Fast of the 17th of Tammuz (Shiva Asar B’Tammuz).  We fast today to remember that on this day the walls of Jerusalem were breached by Titus and the Roman army approximately 2,000 years ago. 
 Our rabbis teach us that many tragic events occurred on this date in the past. 
Moses descended from Mt Sinai and when he saw the people worshipping a golden calf, Moses broke  the tablets on which the Ten Commandments were inscribed. 
It is also the date when the  Jews ceased to offer the daily sacrifice in the Temple, thereby signifying the end of a holy era.
The Roman general Apostomus burned a Torah scroll which set the stage for burning Jewish books throughout the centuries. An idol was placed in the Sanctuary of the Holy Temple.
On the 17th of Tammuz when the walls of Jerusalem were breached during the Second Temole era, it must have felt as though the world as they knew it, was coming to and end. 
It was!
Hopelessness. 
Today is also the 1000 day since October 7 when once again there was a breach and many horrors were unleashed on our people. 
A tragedy of epic proportions. 
We are still reeling from the many repercussions. 
Hopelessness. 
How do we as a people move forward in the face of such despair?
The Three Weeks which are also called the time of dire straits, or between the straits is bookended by 17 Tammuz and Av 9, the date when both Temples in Jerusalem were destroyed. 
The second Temple has yet to be rebuilt and our Sages teach us that this is due to our continued baseless hatred of one another. 

I have a dear friend whose name is almost exactly the same as mine. 
Our first names are off by one letter and our family name is the same. 
We travel in similar circles and shop in the same stores.
Over the years we have experienced some funny incidents of mistaken identity. 
I once got a text from a friend telling me she would meet me in 15 minutes on a street in New York’s neighborhood of the Five Towns. 
Being in Georgia, I told her it would take me more than 15 minutes to get there. 
Another time I received a UPS shipment. In the delivery box, enshrined in tissue paper, lay a stunning dress. 
It was lovely, my size and very much my taste. 
The box originated from the same area in New York. 
It only took a moment. 
I overcame my evil inclination and reluctantly called the dress shop, of which I am an occasional patron,  and suggested this garment must belong to my alter ego. 
Indeed!
(Shame I wouldn’t have minded keeping it!)
Lately the confusion is worsening. We are both in the computer system of a vendor where my friend is trying to make a major purchase. 
I receive frequent emails on the progress of this transaction. 
Despite repeated attempts, I can’t make it stop. 
It’s starting to feel voyeuristic. 
I am getting too much of a sneak peak into my friend’s personal life. 
It’s very uncomfortable. 
It is as if I’m being given a front row view on an aspect of her private life. 
This week is a double Torah portion of Chukat - Balak. 

I’m leaving on a jet plane…
✈️ 
This coming weekend is the Bar Mitzva of a grandson in Chicago. 
We are looking forward to this special occasion, especially because this is a very special young man. 
This grandson has some special needs and is a source of much pride to his parents. 
One of his superpowers is that he is extremely observant. He notices everything about another’s behavior to the degree that he can imitate that person perfectly. 
He sees the big picture. 
As I head out on an airplane soon , I wonder what I may learn and observe on the journey. 
Will I see a glimpse of a bigger picture. 
Rabbi Weinreb of Cincinnati shared an experience he had on a recent flight. 
(I told you Rabbis always have airplane stories). 
His flight was proceeding without incident when the pilot came on and asked for attention. He then asked everyone to check underneath the seat to make sure the lifevest was in place. If it was missing, the pilot asked passengers to immediately notify a flight attendant. 
That was the extent of the announcement. 
Rabbi Weinreb admits that this announcement shook him up. He reached under the seat to ensure the lifevest was there and then he reached for his Tehillim, Psalms, and began to fervently pray for a safe landing. 
While the Rabbi was getting more and more nervous and concerned, he noticed the flight crew seemed relaxed and unconcerned. 
He was highly confused. 
After some anxiety ridden moments passed he inquired of a flight attendant. 
She asked him if he found the lifevest and when he answered in the affirmative the flight attendant merely told him to return it to its proper place. 
Thoroughly confused the Rabbi asked the flight attendant what was the nature of the emergency. 
No emergency at all. 
Turned out that when the flight took off a number of vests had rolled to the back of the plane. They were just trying to figure out which seats were missing life vests. 
Rabbi Weinreb realized that this is what life is all about. 

Apparently my eye makeup is not waterproof.
Despite the protestations of the cosmetic company in question, some recent crying jags have resulted in beautiful raccoon eyes and black streaks down the cheeks.
Crying is a unique response.
It is rare to find an action that can express extreme and opposite emotions.
Tears are considered to be the “sweat of the soul”.
When we are extremely sad - we cry.
When we are extremely happy - we cry.
Tears spill when we are angry, frustrated, hysterically laughing and deeply moved.
The Talmud teaches us that when the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, the gates of prayer were shut. Despite that seemingly dark reality, the Talmud continues that the Gates of Teard always remain open.
Crying out to Gd in any sort of pain is a way to reach out even when we cannot find the words to articulate our lacking.
This week’s Torah Portion is called Shlach, which means “send”. It is the tragic story of the 12 spies were sent to scout out the Land of Israel prior to entry.
Instead of seeing the incredible beauty of the Land, the spies returned with a negative report which they shared with the Jewish people upon their return. Instead of rejoicing in anticipation of entering the Land of Israel, the people sat in their tents and cried.
Rabbi Shaul Rosenblatt reminds us that the Torah highlights a facet of human nature. “When things are tough, it’s much easier to wallow in our own self pity than to embrace and overcome the challenge.”
The date the spies returned from their reconnaissance was the 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av.
Gd decreed that since the Jewish people cried for no reason at that time, there would be ample reason to cry on that day in the future.
And so it was.
The first Holy Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed on the 9th of Av.
The second Temple was also destroyed on the 9th of Av and it is the anniversary of many tragic Jewish historical events, including the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492.
Rabbi Rosenblatt reminds us that crying in the Jewish tradition is an appropriate way to express emotion. It is healthy to cry when one is in any kind of pain or when one is frustrated. The only kind of crying that is not healthy is crying out of self pity. When one feels hopeless then that crying takes away the resolve to step up and face challenges.
That is why Gd told the Jews who cried over the report of the spies that there would be a reason to cry in the future. That would transform the cry to something more productive.