Day 237
Every day of these 237 we have seen pictures.
Photos of smiling young men and women, in the prime of their lives.
And then we learn they are no longer with us on this planet.
The heart breaks again and again as we contemplate the shattered lives and broken souls who are left behind.
Many days it is too much to bear.
But we are given glimpses into the greatness of those we have lost and we are left breathless by their faith, determination and bravery. It makes us stand taller, squaring our shoulders as we brace ourselves to try a little harder to emulate them.
And what of the families they have left behind?
They are the true warrriors.
This week there was a Brit Milah. The mother of the baby, cradling the newborn in her arms, is flanked by her toddler and her own mother and grandmother. All are surrounding her in a circle of love, strength and support.
Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi was there.
Her reaction was not pity.
Rather she sees the scene and exclaims that we are a nation of lionesses.
She could see the power emanating from these women.
They will persevere and continue on.
I watched an interview of a bereaved mother.
She lost two daughters at the Nova festival. She shared about these two sisters, the light and joy they brought to her and to the world.
And while she is forever going to mourn them, she will also continue to live for them, having their spirit always with her, always feeling their presence, every single moment of her life.
She will not stop living she will honor their lives by living her own.
And their constant presence, she said, will be her inspiration.
For a bereaved parent, child or spouse, the grief is always a part of their new normal.
Rabbi Moshe Hauer teaches us the reality of this situation through the lens of this week’s Torah portion.
This week we will read the last Parsha of the book of VaYikra, the book Leviticus, which is called Bechukotai.
In it Gd promises to remember his covenant with Jacob and also Isaac and Gd will recall Gd’s covenant with the Abraham.
This refers to the promise that Gd makes that even if we have strayed and we are being dreadfully punished, at the end we will be remembered and redeemed.
The sentence is quite convoluted. It seems the remembrance and recalling is only connected to two of the three Patriarchs, Abraham and Jacob? What about Isaac? Why is there no need to remember him?
Rashi, the super commentator, explains that Gd does not need to remember Isaac, as his “ashes” are always piled before Gd.
(This refers to the Binding of Isaac. Gd commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac and Isaac was willing to subject himself. The deed never actually took place, but because Isaac was willing, it is as if he was brought a sacrifice and the ashes are symbolic.)
Since those ashes are always present there is no need to remember that which is still and always, there.
Rabbi Hauer shares that this unusual statement can be seen as a reciprocation from Gd.
Abraham was ready to sacrifice his son. In his mind the deed was done. He was therefore considered a bereaved parent.
A bereaved person carries their loss with them always. With the passage of time they learn to live again, they learn to function, but there is always the absence of their loved one tugging at their heart.

Day 230.
We are counting days.
This count is horrifying.
As the days pass by, we know that our brothers and sisters continue to languish in a hell which we cannot fathom. The hostages are trapped in the darkest of places, a situation which will require a miracle of epic proportions to extract them from their captivity.
The number grows higher as the days pass by, and we are saddened, sickened, fighting to hold onto hope against insurmountable odds.
This is the season of counting days.
We also count the days between Passover, the holiday of redemption, the festival which commemorates our extraction from a horrific and very dark place and Shavuot, the time we received the Torah.
The Jewish nation was enslaved in Egypt for an interminable 210 years. Leaving Egypt was an impossibility. No one ever escaped from there.
Yet, after being held hostage for centuries, the entire nation of Israel was redeemed.
They stepped out of the darkness into the light.
49 days later, the Jews stood at the foot of Mount Sinai to accept the Torah.
Despite the fact we were saved from Egypt, the Jewish people were not in a great place.
Their spiritual level had sunk so low they were just one step away from being irredeemable.
Yet only 49 days later they were so spiritually elevated they were ready to receive the Torah.
This 49 days are therefore primed for personal growth.
As the Rebbe from Kotz teaches, every holiday and time has a spiritual energy which is available to us. This time period has an extra dose of accessibility to spiritual greatness and growth.
We count each day, knowing that each day brings us one day closer to the giving of the Torah.
These are days we rise in sanctity.
This Sunday will be day 33 of the count.
In Hebrew we call that day Lag BaOmer, Lag =33.
Lag BaOmer is a special day in the count, a celebratory day.
Historically it is the day the students of Rabbi Akiva stopped dying.
Shortly after the destruction of the second Temple some 1900 years ago, the Sage, Rabbi Akiva, had 24,000 illustrious students who were the future teachers of the Jewish people. Their presence was critical because the Jewish people had suffered a terrible loss with the destruction of the Temple. These young teachers would have supplied much needed support and inspiration.
But they all died.
All 24,000 of them.

Day 223
Lessons from the war:
Daniel Hemo is one of the five IDF soldiers who was killed in a tragic friendly fire incident in Gaza this week.
Daniel is an example of the extraordinary nature of our soldiers and youth in Israel.
He had signed up with the bone marrow registry in Israel which is called Ezer Mizion.
He matched with a woman in her 60s just before October 7. He has been scheduled to be discharged from the army on October 7 to begin the donation process. However, due to the outbreak of war the process was postponed.
The process was delayed, but the illness was progressing, so Daniel received a special dispensation to take a temporary leave to donate his marrow to save a life.
He immediately returned to his unit to fight another foe, and was tragically killed in the friendly fire incident this week.
Another hero has been taken from us.
Daniel made a Kiddush Hashem in his short time on earth.
We lost this giant at the age of 20.
A Kiddush Hashem means that he sanctified the name of Gd with his actions.
Daniel was focused on saving lives. And did so with his very being.
Another one of the fallen in this heartbreaking friendly fire situation was Roy Beit Yaakov, 22 years old. His father, a soldier who is also serving in Gaza, went on national television after the horrific accident.
He said, all these soldiers (those involved in the deadly accident)are righteous people, tzadikim.
He stated that when we are in the midst of war, terrible accidents can occur. He went on to invite the soldiers to his home, he wants to hug and comfort them.
He says of course he is in pain over losing his precious child, but this time is also a time which is highlighting the strength and courage of the Jewish people which calls “awesome”.
Instead of lashing out in pain and criticism, Roy’s father created a space for love and healing.
He gave emotional life to those who are devastated by the unintended result of their actions.
He created a Kiddush Hashem.
In his behavior he sanctified Gd’s Name, by acting as a Jew should act, shoeing love and empathy instead of spewing hatred and contempt.
This week’s Torah portion is entitled Emor and it teaches us that we are Gd’s ambassadors in the world.
“I must be sanctified” says Gd.
How do we mere mortals sanctify Gd’s name?

Day 216
May 6 was Yom Hashoah, the day we remember the 6 million Jews killed in the Holocaust.
On that day, a Holocaust survivor passed away.
Esther Greizer left this world at the age of 95. She had no children as she was a subject of the diabolical experiments of Mengele in Auschwitz which rendered her sterile. After the war she married and moved to Israel. The family she married into embraced her and she had many nieces and nephews.
They say she had a happy life.
When she passed away in Haifa on Yom Hashoa the family was concerned there might not be many people at the funeral.
A post went up on social media and the opposite happened as thousands attended her funeral.
One of her nieces said she was so happy for her beloved Aunt.
On the same day, a group of students were on the March of the Living. It was a group of about 60, and they realized that about 30 of them were descendants of survivors of Auschwitz.
They took the opportunity to make a special blessing.
This is a blessing one can make when revisiting a place where one experienced a miracle. The blessing can also be made when an individual visits a place where their ancestor experienced a miracle.
So in Auschwitz, some 30 young women made the blessing that their ancestors experienced a miracle in this place.
The miracle of survival.
One of the young women expressed her happiness at the opportunity of making the blessing.
In both of those instances the word happiness was used.
I found that an interesting usage of happiness.
Is that really a good definition of happiness?
The Jewish people seem to live in the nexus of joy and sorrow.
Next week we will experience Yom HaZikaron, the day we remember the fallen in Israel which is immediately followed by Yom HaAztmaut, Israel’s Independence Day.
The sorrow immediately leads to happiness.
How can that be?
It turns out that according to the World Happiness Report, Israel ranks 5th in happiness. This statistic is still true in this past half year when there has been so much tragedy.
This ranking includes the young adults who are serving in the army and often paying the highest, most unimaginable price for that service.
So how is it there is so much happiness?

Let me ask you 4 questions!
1. How did we eat so much?
2. ⁠Why am I finding Matza crumbs in every nook and cranny of my house?
3. ⁠Will my washing machine survive the many loads of linen it must disgorge?
4. After so much shopping, cooking, cleaning and preparation-how did it pass so quickly?
You may feel the need to remind me that the season of asking 4 Questions has passed, no pun intended.
But I am loath to see it go, so I am holding on to this modality for just a little longer.
Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi teaches us about these feelings.
After major holidays we seem to feel this sense of sadness.
It’s a hard time as we separate from the family time that was so much fun and so connecting, it was a time of creating such closeness.
And just like that, it’s over, with only the Matza crumbs and linens to tell the tale.
We also experienced a spiritual closeness. As we engaged in the holiday we shared wisdom and inspiration and teachings we learned and had the opportunity to share.
That experience provided hope and uplift.
And now it’s done.
How do we “climb back up on that hope”?
This week’s Torah portion is called Acharei Mot, which means after the death, details the aftermath of the terrible loss Aaron the High Priest experienced with the loss of his two sons.
It is a huge disappointment at the beginning of a time of potential closeness with the dedication of the Tabernacle.
At this time, Aaron is taught that he may not enter the Tabernacle at his own whim.
This seems to be a rejection, a further removal or distancing of any closeness.
Not only has Aaron lost his precious children, he also seems to be suffering rejection by Gd as well.
It seems to add insult to injury. But then the Torah explains in the next verse how Aaron will be able to enter the Holy of Holies in the Tabernacle-when he will do the prescribed service, offer prayers and once again create close connection.
It seems that Aaron will first feel that he is lacking, but when he will engage in the service of connection he will receive the key to enter.
One may feel the lack of closeness, but don’t give up, try knocking on the door until it opens.
This coming Shabbat, the one immediately after Passover, there is a custom to bake one’s challah in the shape of a key.
Here is a hack to achieve the same result, take a key, wrap it tightly in silver foil, and bake it into the Challah.
Another hack is to buy frozen dinner rolls and place them in a round pan, a few rolls surrounding one in the center, bury the key in a roll and Voila-Key Challah!
Either way it can surely be the source of questions from the children, remember we are trying to hold onto that Passover feeling!!
Some sprinkle poppy seeds on the Challah to remind us of the manna that began falling in the desert at around this time.
This custom reminds us that our sustenance is unlocked by a Divine source. We need to earn our bread but there is nothing like the vagaries of earning a livelihood to remind us of the need for heavenly assistance.
Rabbanit Yemima adds another dimension.

Passover is around the corner.
The Seder will take place on Monday night.
The MO of the Seder is questions and answers.
It’s really a conversation.
All the interesting customs we practice are only in place to elicit questions.
Here’s a good question -
Do you like Matza?
It’s a conundrum.
Some people wait all year to eat Matza.
It’s a treat and a delight.
Others do not like Matza at all. It’s dry and difficult to eat and digest.
Those who feel that way have to make the best of the situation.
Funny how the same Matza can evoke such a range of feelings.
That happens to mirror the nature of Matza itself.
Matza is called “the bread of our affliction”.
This refers to the fact that the Jewish people ate Matza in Egypt and it came to reflect the terrible suffering they experienced during that dark time.
Matza is also called the “bread of our redemption”.
This description is given to the Matza as it is the bread the Jewish people ate when they left Egypt. The Exodus happened so quickly there was no time to wait for the bread to rise so they took Matza with them and it became the symbol of the Redemption.
So which is it?
It’s both!
How can it be both?
Here’s another question.
Do we use one piece of Matza at the Seder to memorialize these two aspects?
The answer is - Yes.

Day 188
Passover is just around the corner.
I do not say that lightly.
I certainly do not say that to frighten you.
I say it to myself, so I can get into the proper frame of mind.
A little secret.
I have a bit of Passover Paranoia.
Let me explain.
When my parents married they moved to Tokyo, Japan where they lived for five years.
Talk about living in exile.
My newly married mother barely knew how to boil an egg.
She was way ahead of her time and was the editor of a science newspaper.
So cooking was not her forte.
She went on to become a fabulous chef, but that came later.
Making Passover in Tokyo was full of challenges, but my Mom prevailed.
My Father zl, was so impressed with her efforts and promised her that once they returned stateside, she would not have to make Passover again until she volunteered.
She never volunteered!
So for my entire childhood and until we had our 4th child (on Passover) we went to a hotel for the holiday.
When you observe preparations from a young age, they become second nature and deeply ingrained.
But I never saw my Mom make Passover.
Therefore, doing all the Passover prep as an adult has always left me a bit anxious.
I have to remind myself that
a. I can do this
b. It is well worth the effort
c. I can make it a positive experience.
These are some of the steps I need to take to get in the right head space and take on the challenge with joy.

Day 181
It’s hard not to scream.
Our natural reaction to the challenges, the ongoing losses, the lack of support from the world community - it makes you want to scream.
This week’s Torah portion, once again so timely, teaches us how to react in moments of tragedy.
The portion, entitled Shmini, which means the eighth, speaks of the celebration of sanctifying the Tabernacle.
There were eight days of sanctification, and on the eighth day, the height of spirituality, a tragedy occurred.
Nadav and Avihu, two sons of Aaron the High Priest, themselves priests or Cohanim, brought a strange fire into the Tabernacle.
Due to their elevated spiritual status and the intense holiness of the day, their action was punishable by death.
The two sons of Aaron the Cohen, died tragically at the time that should have been the pinnacle of joy.
The Torah records the reaction of Aaron, the bereaved father.
He was silent.
Sivan Rahav Meir and Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi share some incredible insights into this tragic incident and share wisdom with us for our present situation.
The day Aaron’s sons died was a holy day, a joyous day.
So too, October 7 was Simchat Torah, a holy and joyous day.
And so many of our children died.
Pure and holy children.
How do we respond?
Aaron was silent.
This is not because he has no words. Aaron was the orator.
He was the one chosen by Gd to speak on behalf of Moses.
But here he has nothing to say.
He makes space for silence.
This is hard for us to fathom.
We are challenged by silence.
In fact, they are called uncomfortable silences.
It’s hard for us.
We feel the need to keep talking.
We have so many questions and we need answers.
But here Aaron is silent.
Yet this is the most talked about silence ever.
It was a thunderous silence.
One born of faith.
It raises the question for us, why are we so uncomfortable with silence?
When a person is sitting shiva for the loss of a loved one and people come to comfort the mourner, there is a Jewish law regarding the conversation.
The mourner needs to speak first. Until the mourner says something and opens the conversation, the visitors are supposed to sit quietly.
Not talk.
Just be there with the mourner.
Give the mourner space and just give the gift of support and presence.
Without talking.
The Torah teaches us that to help people heal we should be quiet.
“Silence is not an empty void, but a language of its own. We need to hear it’s profound voice.”
There is a renaissance of a Chassidic movement called Breslov. One of its main messages is that of quiet, personal introspection.
This allows one to pause.
It permits quiet, and moments not filled with constant tittle tattle that allow us to hear and perhaps truly listen.

“Joe Lieberman, one of the highest-ranking Jews in American politics, a pro-Israel senator and Al Gore’s running mate (and vice-presidential candidate) in the 2000 election, has passed away. It is important to remember Lieberman’s unique voice within the Democratic party, which stood in sharp contrast to the opinions voiced by some party members today.
 But I would like to focus on his other very significant, non-political legacy.
 Amongst his many accomplishments, he wrote a book entitled
The Gift of Rest: Rediscovering the Beauty of the Sabbath*.
 Lieberman said that he had written a book about Shabbat because he wanted to communicate to young Jews around the world that they don’t have to give up their heritage in order to achieve the highest levels of professional success. In fact, he claimed, the opposite was true. His Sabbath observance, especially in the middle of an election campaign, only strengthened people’s admiration for him as a man of principles and integrity.
 He also wanted young Israelis to understand this too: that on Shabbat, he wasn’t “the honorable Senator,” and not even Joe, but Yosef Yisrael ben Chanan, his name when he was called up to the Torah.
 In his book, Lieberman describes how listening to the Shabbat Torah reading was especially meaningful for him because he knew that he wasn’t listening to another political speech but to the words of Gd. He writes how during the three Pilgrim Festivals (Pesach, Shavuot, and Succot), the Jewish people would travel to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, but we have the opportunity each and every week to welcome the Holy Sabbath directly into our kitchens and living rooms.
Perhaps the most powerful line of his book: “When they ask me: How can you interrupt your work as senator to observe Shabbat every week? I respond: How could I manage to accomplish all the work I do as senator six days a week by if I didn’t stop to keep Shabbat?”
These words are a paraphrase of Sivan Rahav Meir’s words about Joe Lieberman.
Senator Lieberman’s thoughts about the weekly Torah portion are inspiring as they reflect our weekly pursuit to plumb the Torah, authored by Gd, for nuggetsof wisdom, which can inform, enhance and direct our lives.
This week’s Torah portion is Tzav, which means to command.
It refers to the fact that Aaron was commanded regarding the various offerings and sacrifices to be brought in the Temple.
The first service of the day that the Priests were to accomplish would be the removal of ashes from the day before.
During the day, the Temple was a beehive of activity as sacrifices were being offered on the Altar.
After the day was completed, the detritus of the sacrifices, the ashes, would accumulate on the Altar.
So the first order of business, the housekeeping so to speak, involved removal of those ashes.
We know that the Torah messages are eternal, and we know that sacrifices are no longer being brought, so what can we possibly learn from this process?

The holiday of Purim is almost upon us. This coming Saturday night and Sunday, we celebrate the reversal of the decree of annihilation that was directed at the Jewish people.
The story of Purim took place in the Persian empire in around 350 BCE. The King Achashverosh threw a lavish party to celebrate his success. In the midst of a drunken rage, he orders the Queen Vashti killed. When he sobers he realizes he is alone and begins a nationwide beauty pageant to find a new wife. Hadassah aka Esther, is brought against her will to the palace. She doesn’t reveal her Jewish identity. Despite her desire not to be the Queen, her beauty captivates the King and she is chosen. Her uncle Mordechai tries to watch over her from the palace gates. His refusal to bow to honor the King’s trusted advisor Haman provokes Haman to such a degree that he plots to kill the entire Jewish nation. With genocide looming, Mordechai requests that Esther plead the case of her people. When things could not look any bleaker, and destruction of the Jews is inevitable, there is a complete turnaround.
Mordechai who was destined for the gallows is feted, led through the crowd on the king’s horse, being heralded by Haman himself. The gallows that were erected to hang Mordechai, become Haman’s final destination, and the war against the Jews, the one that is meant to do them in, becomes a victory battleground for the Jews and many non Jews actually convert out of awe for the Jewish people.
It’s a complete turnabout.
The time that was meant to be full of mourning, becomes a time of joy and celebration.
Everything is upside down, in the best way possible.
May the Purim miracle of sorrow turning to joy, the turnabout and the upside downness of despair to joy, become our new reality.
Everything is quite upside down now.