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.