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.