My youngest son graduated college on Friday. It was a momentous occasion in his life and in ours. My mom came in to celebrate and attend the graduation. I treasure these moments more and more as time goes on. We sat in the auditorium, watching where he was sitting (he helped us find him, texting us his location and turning around to us and waving), and waited for him to have his name announced and walk across the stage. As a parent, it was an incredible moment for many reasons.
My mom and Matthew at graduation – I treasure these moments more and more.
I noticed a few things surrounding his graduation that got me thinking. They may seem totally unrelated, but for me, they all tie together.
On the drive to campus for graduation, I noticed a few things. First, how many people drove as if they were the only car on the road. Turning right from the left turn lane. Going straight and trying to outrace cars from the left turn lane. Where was the common courtesy? Where was basic rule following? I laughed as one car that did this ended up far behind me – they almost caused an accident to end up behind the car they had to cut off.
The second thing was that when I tried to be kind, to let cars in ahead of me, how they wouldn’t accept the kindness. They wouldn’t go in front of me. It got me thinking, “When did kindness become so rare that people don’t recognize it?”
At the graduation, it was the same conflict. They asked not to scream and yell when your loved one’s name was announced as it meant the next name couldn’t be heard. Yet people screamed, drowning out the name of the next person graduating. Rudeness and lack of caring was all over the place. As I went to video my son about to walk across the stage, the people in front of me had to stand up, blocking my view. No awareness of people around them. I stood up, moved slightly, and was able to video and watch him walk. Had they done that a minute later, I would have missed it.
Yet the number of people willing to take pictures of my family when asked, the number of families who I took pictures of when asked was remarkable. The wishes of congratulations to strangers because they were celebrating the graduation of a loved one was remarkable.
What a dichotomy. It got me thinking that perhaps America isn’t really as lost as it appears. Perhaps there is hope. Perhaps we can regain our country from the extremes and return to a world of kindness, caring for others, and awareness of the world around us. Perhaps we don’t have to live in a world where it is ‘my way or the highway’ on every single issue.
I do know one thing for sure. It starts with each of us. We may not be able to change the entire country but we certainly can change our own behavior. We certainly can change the world of those around us. I hope we can all make a commitment to do our best to be kind. To be aware of those around us. To celebrate with those who are celebrating and to embrace joy rather than hate. It is how we will save our country and our world.
A little more than 10 years ago, I began writing about the rise in Jew hatred. It was controversial at that time to use the words Jew Hatred. I used them anyway because that’s what I was seeing. Swastikas being drawn on buildings in Seattle. This article in the Seattle Times on June 26, 2016, got pushback that it wasn’t happening and that this was all being overblown and exaggerated. We see now that unfortunately, I was right. This article, almost 9 years old today, is hard for me to re-read because of what has happened in those 9 years. Because of what was being called out then that was ignored by so many. Because of October 7, 2023 and what has happened since then. The signs have been there and far too many of our ‘leaders’ have chosen to ignore them.
Take for instance, this harrowing exchange between David Horowitz and a student at the University of California San Diego in 2010. This was FIFTEEN (15) years ago. The only difference between then and now is that Horowitz would be booed offstage now, this vile, hateful woman would be cheered, and the University would defend HER hatred instead of protecting Jewish students on campus.
The Jew hatred on campus was clear in 2010 but we ignored it
We saw things like this years ago but failed to take it seriously and failed to act. As a result, our Jewish students on campus today are faced with incredible antisemitism. I spoke with one of the leaders of Mothers Against Antisemitism from the Dallas chapter this week and the stories she shared about the University of North Texas were horrifying. Students afraid to be publicly Jewish in any way. Jewish/Israel speakers being spirited to campus at night, under the cover of darkness, to an unadvertised speech because had it been advertised, students would have been too afraid to show up. The work we have been doing has simply failed and we must admit it. We built building on campuses while the Jew haters built departments, programs, and hired Jew hating professors and administrators. We put Jewish names on libraries and centers for performing arts while the Jew haters invested in teaching that Jews are evil, are powerful and responsible for all the bad in the world, that Israel is a genocidal country that doesn’t want peace and are colonialists that want to take over the entire middle east and the world.
My friend Adam Bellos wrote a powerful piece last week. Most of you likely did not see it or read it. I encourge, no I implore you to read it. To think about what he writes. To take action to change the current reality. He writes:
This is the tragedy: we trained kids to explain checkpoints without explaining Herzl. We taught them to debate apartheid without introducing them to Ahad Ha’am, Rabbi Kook, or the Book of Joshua. We armed them with casualty charts, not courage. With U.N. resolutions, not roots. With talking points, not Torah. Hasbara failed because it tried to outsource pride. Because it assumed the average young Jew could fight for Israel while remaining estranged from Hebrew, from Zion, from the soul of their people. Because it traded the moral complexity of the conflict for the false clarity of press releases.
His summary is a beautiful and powerful statement that I believe in, have advocated for, and continue to push to create.
And so, this moment demands something entirely different: a revolution of Jewish education. A renaissance of context. A return to knowing who we are, not just what we’re defending. We don’t need more content creators to explain why Israel is right. We need Jewish children who know why they are Jewish. We don’t need another “crisis comms” playbook. We need people who speak Hebrew, dream in Zion, and learn how to walk into a room not begging for understanding but embodying truth.
We need to make sure we are providing quality and meaningful education to our children and, in all honesty, to our adults. As my friend Ari Shabbat often says, “The Torah is playbook for life”. If we don’t know this, don’t know how to use it, don’t bother every learning that it can be interesting, fun, and meaningful to learn Jewishly, how can we survive? If Israel becomes just another country rather than our spiritual homeland, Judaism will never be more than meaningless rituals that we do because our parents did them. There will be no meaning in hanging a mezuzah, putting on tefillin, or identifying as Jewish. We will merely be Jewish because we have been told we are Jewish. To me, that is unacceptable. I hope that you find it unacceptable as well.
I was deeply saddened to hear the news that Rabbi Sholom Lipskar (z’l), the longtime leader of The Shul of Bal Harbour and founder of the Aleph Institute, died this week. I had the privilege of meeting Rabbi Lipskar a number of times and the community he build at The Shul of Bal Harbour is extraordinary. I found him to be a man who didn’t accept the impossible. His vision impacted not just the South Florida Jewish community but the entire South Florida community and the world. I found him to be a kind man, always willing to listen, always seeing the good in people, and working to make the world a better place. If you want to read a little about him, you can do so here. The world is certainly a bit dimmer without him in it, however his teachings and life’s work remain to inspire us all.
At the end of the day, we are left with one simple question. What are we going to do? Are we going to be like Rabbi Lipskar (z’l)? Are we going to take action as Adam implores us? Are we going to take the time to learn what being Jewish is really about? Are we going to make the effort to be kind to others? The world we live in today is one that is short on kindness, on wisdom, on compassion, and on knowledge. Are you going to believe whatever somebody decides to tell you or are you going to actually learn something? Are you going to only listen to one narrative or are you going to engage with others and learn both with and from them?
The choice is yours. Just remember that choices have consequences. We are where we are today because of the choices we made years ago. When we look back in a decade or two, I hope that we are happy with the choices we make now and that we have the type of world so many of us desire and want to work to build.
I have been talking and writing about the increase in antisemitism and Jew hatred for a decade now. I saw it when I was living in Seattle when a swastika would be drawn/painted on a Jewish building almost monthly. I called it out then and many people thought I was being reactionary and fear mongering. I was pointing out what was happening.
Over the past decade, it has only gotten worse. Since October 7th, the rise in Jew hatred has become frightening. Violence against Jews is now common. Shooting at Jewish schools happens too often. Ugly, racist protests occur on college campuses and in the streets in the US, Canada, and throughout Europe. Israeli Olympic athletes are threatened with death. The Palestinian athletes are allowed to wear shirts with bombs dropping on Israel, but the Israeli athletes are not permitted to wear the yellow ribbons for the hostages. The list goes on and on.
I have mentioned many times how I’m not super religious but very Jewish. Over the past few years, I have been digging deeper into what being Jewish means to me outside of services. Like many people, services don’t connect or inspire me. I knew there was much more to being Jewish than just religious services so my exploration into Jewish spirituality, text and how it applies to my life, and finding more meaning have been a big part of my recent journey.
As I learn with Rabbi Ehrenkranz, we include a bit of prayers to understand the why instead of the what. My recent trip to Israel with the Jewish Leadership Institute (JLI) also focused deeply on the why instead of the what. My recent trips to Israel have also been an exploration into the why instead of the what. Why does Jerusalem matter? What is the point behind some of what we do? What is the intention? The goal? The objective? I have found that when I understand the why, I can adapt the what to fit my life and what is meaningful to me. Judaism has adapted since the time of Abraham, Moses, King David, and even the 2nd Temple. We don’t pray the way they did but we can connect to God and each other the way they did. I find that very meaningful.
Rabbi Ehrenkranz started a monthly Sunday morning Minyan (prayer service) that I began attending because he asked me to. Often times, just asking somebody you have a relationship with gets them to do what you ask. It turns out most of the people who attend are friends of mine, so it becomes a social gathering as well as an opportunity to grow. I appreciate how Rabbi Ehrenkranz explains the goal of each part of the service. It has enabled me to move away from reading the Hebrew words that I don’t know what they mean and instead think about the goal and objective and connect that way. It has turned an experience that was rote into one that is meaningful.
This Sunday, with all that is going on in Israel and the recent attack by Hezbollah on the Druze village, I chose to wear my IDF tzitzit (ritual fringed garments). I got them from Rabbi Atlas in the IDF as I am helping him with a project to fund the 5,000 mezuzahs the IDF needs. I don’t wear them regularly and in fact, this was the first time that I wore them under my shirt like you are ‘supposed’ to. It was a way to connect to Israel, the IDF, and Judaism. I feel that way about mezuzahs too – something that is easy to put on your door and have a meaningful symbol without being required to be super religious. It’s an easy thing to put on your doorpost and show Jewish pride both internally and externally. If you don’t have one and want one, MyZuzah will give you one for FREE! And if you want to support the IDF in their effort to get their needed mezuzahs for IDF soldiers, there is a dollar for dollar match and you can buy them for the IDFhere for $30 each.
At the minyan, I spent the time during the silent Amidah (the major prayer of the service) in my own mediation and conversation with God, thanking God for all the gifts in my life today. In my learning with Rabbi Ehrenkranz, part of what I have learned is that most of our prayers are really a reminder to ourselves about how we should live and how much we need to be thankful to God for our lives. As such, I took this time to focus in this area. It is easy to take so many things for granted in our lives and this gave me a few minutes to really focus on things and express my gratitude. Instead of reading Hebrew words without meaning, this time was special because it was focused on gratitude. It reshaped my entire day as I realized not only how lucky I am to live the life that I do but also that it is only by the grace of God that I have so many gifts. I am grateful to Rabbi Ehrenkranz for helping me find meaning in something that didn’t have meaning before.
We sang Acheinu, the prayer for those in capitivity, for the hostages. I began singing this in Israel in July and it has become incredibly meaningful to me. It’s an easy song to sing, a powerful prayer to say, and reminds me to keep the hostages front and center in my mind. That, along with my ‘Bring them home now’ dogtag that I wear every day keeps my priorities front of mind. It has been almost 10 full months of captivity and the reports now coming out from released hostages are horrific. I’m glad that I learned the how to sing it and do so daily. It takes me a couple of minutes, fills me with gratitude for my life, and doesn’t let me ever forget the hostages.
Over the past few years, I have been very lucky to have some amazing Jewish mentors and teachers. People who expose me to things that are meaningful and show Judaism in a different way in which I can connect. Harry Rothenberg, Ari Shabat, Saul Blinkoff, Lori Palatnik, Mickey Singer, David Abramowitz, and Rabbi Ehrenkranz are just some of them. Each exposes me to different things to think about. Each one expands my knowledge and enriches my life in different ways. Pirkei Avot says, “Find yourself a teacher, acquire for yourself a friend”, and I have found this to be true. Each of these teachers are also friends and only one is a Rabbi!
As somebody who raised somewhat religious and is not any longer, I have found deep meaning in Judaism through understanding the why of what we do. The what doesn’t really mean much to me but the why is something entirely different. As antisemitism grows and Jew hatred explodes across the globe, I have found investing in my Jewish identity and Jewish meaningful practices to be important. I have begun to bake challah again. I make sure to say thank you to God every morning for waking me up (the basis of the Modeh Ani prayer), and since I learned about thanking God for making the rooster understand the difference between day and night, I thank him for the beauty of nature and this world. (It is a funny prayer that we start with – almost like the Rabbi’s are pranking us!)
Many people think it is all or nothing. You either go to synagogue or you don’t pray. You either can pray in Hebrew or you don’t pray Jewishly. You keep kosher or you aren’t really Jewish. You keep Shabbat one specific way, or it doesn’t have any meaning to you. I have found just the opposite. There is incredible gray in Judaism once you understand why we do things. Then you have the opportunity to do what is meaningful to you to accomplish the goals.
I encourage you to explore the why. To learn about why Israel matters to Judaism. To understand the intent behind the services and the prayers we do. It will open doors for you to grow in ways you can’t imagine.
I’ve been a proud Zionist all my life. My great-grandmother, who I knew, was a Zionist. My grandparents were Zionists. On a visit to Israel a number of years ago, I went to the JNF building and found the books that had their name in it for their support of JNF back in the 60s. My parents were Zionists. I grew up filled with a love for Israel and a strong belief in the importance of a Jewish homeland.
All four of my grandparents went to Israel. My parents went to Israel. My in-laws went to Israel. My brother and sister-in-law have been to Israel. My sister and brother-in-law have been to Israel. My wife has been to Israel and this last trip was my 22nd trip to Israel. The proof is in the pudding as they say.
On this recent trip, while sitting in the back of the bus with one of the participants, he posed an interesting question to me. “Why do we still call it Zionism?” After all, Zionism is the belief that the Jewish people should have their own state and be able to have their own self-determination. We have that. We have had it for 76 years. In 1776, the Americans were revolutionaries. We no longer call ourselves revolutionaries nor have we for more than two centuries. We are patriots because America is a country, and we no longer have to fight for our freedom from another country’s rule.
In 1948, in the former home of Mayor Meir Dizengoff, David Ben Gurion declared independence for the State of Israel. While we have fought many wars since then, from that point forward the Jewish people have had a state. We have had our homeland. We have had self-determination. So why are we still calling it Zionism? Shouldn’t we just be patriots as well? Haven’t we accomplished the goal of Zionism, the creation of a Jewish homeland?
It is a question I find myself struggling with for many reasons. While we have a Jewish homeland, the State of Israel, there are so many people and countries that want to eliminate our homeland and right to self determination that we must always be vigilant. So while we have our Jewish state and self determination, we cannot afford to sit on our laurels. We must continue to fight to maintain it. As a Zionist, I fight for our homeland and won’t let it be deligitimized. Today, more than ever, that is critical. The United Nations, UNRWA, and the International Court of Justice (ICJ) are actively working to eliminate our homeland. If we are merely patriots, do we lose the urgency needed to defend Israel? Do we forget how long it took us to have our homeland after the Romans sent us into exile? Do we lose the passion of Zionism when we become Patriots? I don’t have the answers but I do have the questions.
On the flip side, we have our country. We have the right to self determination. Do we really need to be fighting for something that we already have? Defend it as patriots, yes. The Zionist dream is real and has been for 76 years. We accomplished the goal of Theodore Herzl. His radical idea, “the restoration of the Jewish State”, has come to pass. Are we using a word that we don’t need to? Are we creating challenges for ourselves because of that? Is it time to change the paradigm, to not live in fear that we will not have a Jewish state, because we actually have one?
As a Zionist, that word ties me to generations of my family. It ties me not only to my Great-great-grandparents and the time of Herzl but to ancient Jews and receiving the Torah. It is being a part of the Jewish people. Generations upon generations. When I was recently in Israel, walking on 2,000 year old streets, looking out at where King David’s castle was, praying at the Kotel, the base of Temple Mount, it all came together. My ancestors from thousands of years ago stood where I was standing.
Original streets from more than 2,000 years ago, beneath the Kotel.
In May, when I stood on top of Temple Mount, it was a connection to the Temple built by Solomon and then rebuilt and modified by King Herod.
In front of Dome of the Rock on Temple Mount, where the Temple used to stand
At Passover every year, we remember that God took us out of Egypt. Not just our ancestors but us. We were all at Sinai for the giving of the Torah. Judaism isn’t about what happened to others. It’s about what happens for us. So yes, the Zionistic dream of Herzl has been attained. But Zionism remains for all of us to defend. To fight for. To advocate for. Our history shows us that if we take it for granted, we will lose it.
After lots of thinking about the word Zionist and comparing it to Patriot, there is no question in my mind that Zionist is the right word. Our homeland is too precious to be diluted. As I watch so many Jews not understand the importance of Israel, having never been to Israel, not seeing the historical connection and minimizing what Israel means to Judaism and the Jewish people, I am not sure the fight for Zionism will ever be over. We owe a huge debt of gratitude to those who came before us and fought for Zionism and for the existance of Israel. They are giants on who’s shoulders we continue the fight.
I won’t change from Zionist to Patriot. I won’t stop advocating for Israel and the Jewish state. And I won’t stop being public with my Jewish identity and passion for Israel. Each trip I video walking the streets to show those who have never been what it’s really like. I post images and tell stories. Zionism is more than a national identity. It is core to the Jewish people. From Abraham to Moses to Joshua to King David to King Solomon, from the Mishkan to the First Temple to the Second Temple. If you don’t believe me, take a trip to Israel and see it yourself.
I returned from Israel about a week ago. It was my second trip this summer and very meaningful on many levels. I love going to Israel and being in Israel. Everybody in my family knows how much I enjoy being there, how meaningful it is to me, and I’m sure there are some who expect that one day I will make Aliyah and live there.
This trip was highlighted by a few things that I think are very important, not just because they mean so much to me but because they highlight a bigger picture of Israel and the meaning to the Jewish people.
We got off the plane and after changing, the first thing we did was go to work the land. There is something about Israel and working the land that is incredibly gratifying. We went to pick apples that will be given to those in need. It was a hot morning, and we had our water and hats and off we went. There were two huge bins to fill that looked daunting when we began. Yet working the land in Israel meant that we worked hard. Very quickly the first bin was halfway full. We talked, we laughed, and we picked apples. Halfway through filling both bins, we took a break to eat some fresh watermelon. By fresh, I mean it was picked just to cut up for us.
Israel was founded by working the land. “Making the desert bloom” remains a key goal and catchphrase. There is something about getting your hands dirty in Israel by picking fruits and vegetables that is incredibly rewarding and meaningful. It ties you to the founders of the State of Israel. It ties you to 3500 years of Jewish history in the land of Israel. I’ve been to farms in the Negev where they are growing fruit and vegetables in the sand and picked them. I’ve helped with lemon trees in the Gaza envelope. I’ve been to a friend’s Moshav near Gaza growing all sorts of fruits, vegetables, and nuts. Now I have picked apples. It’s incredibly rewarding, and I can’t wait to do it again. I learned about Israel Food Rescue, an opportunity to volunteer picking fruit and vegetables in Israel to help harvest the food needed since the loss of so many Thai workers and Palestinian workers since October 7. Israel gives you an opportunity to really give back, not just with money or time, but with your hands and sweat equity.
I had the opportunity of this trip to meet and do some work with incredible leaders of Israeli civil society. I went to the Knesset to meet with MK Sharron Haskel, an amazing leader who represents a new generation of Israeli leaders. As we reach a crossroads in Israel with leadership, she is part of a new generation that will shape the future. I met with former Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem, Fleur Hassan-Nahoum, who I met a number of years ago and is a friend. Fleur is also part of this new generation of Israeli leaders who will change the shape of the country. Fleur spoke to our group and captivated them with her brilliance. Her analysis of the possibility of a 2-state solution, a 1-state solution, and other options for peace was fascinating. She recently debated former Ambassador Dennis Ross on the topic and I can’t wait to watch it when it is released on August 2nd. I met with Brigadier General (ret) Amir Avivi and my friend Lt. Col. (ret) Yaron Buskila about the future of leadership in the IDF and the Jewish world. They are doing some exciting work and I have the opportunity to be a part of it and learn from them. I met with Lt. Col. Rabbi Yedida Atlas who oversees the religious aspect of the IDF. He gave me a pair of the IDF’s tzitzit (ritual garments worn under your shirt) that since October 7, IDF soldiers, regardless of their religion, want to wear for spiritual protection. Later that day, I had the chance to help make tzitzit for the IDF which was incredibly meaningful. I am working with him to get enough mezuzahs for the IDF due to the war and all the reserve call-ups. I was on a zoom call with my friend Roni Ekele, the Director General of the Ethiopian National Project (ENP) and childhood friend, Grace Rodnitzki, the Director of International Relations for ENP. ENP provides critical services for the Ethiopian Israeli youth to ensure their success in Israeli society.
With Member of the Knesset Sharron HaskelLt. Col. Rabbi Atlas and meWith my friend Lt. Col. Yaron BuskilaWith my friends Fleur Hassan Nahoum, Lisa Barkan and Rabbi Randy Brown
In Israel, you have the ability to meet, befriend, and work with incredible leaders. They are accessible. They are friendly. They are passionate. I have great hope for the future of Israel because of these leaders – the future leaders of the country. In America, we are very concerned about the future of our leadership. We wonder where the quality leaders are and where they will come from. In Israel, we see them emerging in all aspects of society.
This was a leadership trip for 19-26 year olds. We had a very diverse group on the trip. Some graduated Jewish Day School. Some were entirely secular. Some knew nothing. Throughout the trip, we learned something with everything we did. The Torah study was interesting as we explored the ‘why’ of the first verses in the Torah. Not the story but what the lesson is behind the story. The things that affect us today. Services were not about the ritual of the service but the meaning of the prayers. Not just what we say, but why we say it. We sang, “L’dor V’dor”, from strength to strenth, throughout the trip, reminding us of our place in Jewish continuity. We sang Acheynu ,the prayer to free captives, for the hostages. As we stood under the Kotel, on original flooring from over 2,000 years ago, we sang it, one of the more powerful experiences I have had in Israel. At our last dinner of the trip, everybody had a chance to share their feelings about the trip and the experience. It was powerful listening to what everybody got out of it. I’m excited to see what this group of leaders is going to do. Just like the future of Israel is bright with their future leaders, I believe that American Jewry can also have a bright future with these type of leaders. It takes effort. It takes work. It’s not easy to find them, recruit them, train them, and pay for all of it. But we must. I have seen the impact of this trip for the past 26 years. I have seen what engaging the future of Jewish life in a meaningful way means and does. It is something I am committed to and I look forward to sharing some exciting plans for 2025 in this area. This trip, seeing what happened for these future leaders, has inspired me to do more. So pay attention, something very exciting is coming in the very near future in regards to young leadership!!
Singing Acheynu for the hostages while standing on a 2,000+ year old original floor under the KotelOur group of future leaders after making sandwiches for those in need. The future is bright!!
Israel is a special place. If you haven’t been to Israel, I can’t really explain to you what it’s like. If you have been, I don’t have to. There is something in the air. Walking the streets of Jerusalem is unlike anywhere else in the world. Floating in the Dead Sea, swimming in the Mediterranean Sea, doing a water hike in the lower Galilee, eating on the edge of the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee), looking at the Golan Heights, being at the Kotel, working the land – each is so much more than just an activity. There is a connection. There is deep meaning. Israel isn’t just a place you visit. It visits your soul. It visits your heart and your mind. As we sat in Machane Yehuda one night, the traditional middle eastern market that turns into a nightclub, the buzz was amazing. The music was pumping. The energy level was high. And then they played ‘Am Yisrael Chai’. It touched us all in our hearts and in our souls. We knew it was more than just a nightclub. We knew it was more than just a fun place to be with friends. It was home. It was a connection to thousands of years of history and of family. Israel changed us all for the better. Am Yisrael Chai.
The party at Machane Yehuda at night – Am Yisrael Chai is playing
It’s always interesting learning Jewish things in Israel, especially in Jerusalem. Aryeh Ben David explored Chapter 3 of the beginning of the Torah with us. We talked about Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden. The midrash (story from Rabbi’s) is that after being forbidden by God to eat from the tree of knowledge, it took them about 20 minutes to eat the apple. It is about temptation.
So why would God tempt Adam and Eve, knowing that they would fail the test and be expelled from the Garden of Eden? How do we do when told we can’t do something, especially something that sounds interesting, fun or would be totally awesome? A friend parks their Lamborghini in your driveway, gives you the keys, tells you they will be back in a month and that you CANNOT drive it. How long would it take before the temptation to just take it for a little spin would win out? He won’t know – it’s just a couple of miles. Temptation is all around us and our goal is to do the best we can to not fall into it.
It is easy to fall into temptation. We do it every day. Too much food. Delicious desserts. Some people it’s with sexual activity. Alcohol. Drugs. Buying expensive things that we can’t really afford. Temptation feels good. It’s immediate gratification. The consequences happen down the road and we don’t think about them when we are in the middle of enjoying the fruits of temptation. Adam and Eve didn’t think about what God would do if they ate the fruit they were told not to. The consequences came after.
How do we avoid temptation? What can we do to be more aware? That’s where structure comes in. That’s where gratitude comes in. Adam and Eve had everything, yet they still couldn’t appreciate what they had and risked everything because of temptation. The desire for more. They lost. Often times we do the same. We risk everything. Our health by eating too much, the wrong type of foods, or too many sweets. Our lives with drugs or alcohol. Our marriage and families with sexual desires and behavior. Sometimes we see the consequences and they are devastating, like Adam and Eve. Sometimes we get away with them, which only reinforces the behavior. It is like Las Vegas, and we are gambling with our lives. Just like in Vegas, we forget that the house ALWAYS WINS.
The second lesson we learned from Adam and Eve was to dream. It sounds strange to think of that since the story doesn’t seem to focus on dreams at all. Nobody ever told me that having dreams was part of Adam and Eve’s story. It was about obeying God and the consequences when you don’t. It was about being created in the image of God. But dreaming?
After being kicked out of the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve dreamed of finding a way back. When they realized they could never get back, they began to dream about how to make the world they now lived in as perfect as they could to resemble the Garden of Eden. That is the beginning of the Jewish value of Tikkun Olam, repairing the world. Adam and Eve tasted the perfect world and lost it. They, and their ancestors for thousands of years, would spend their time trying to recreate it.
Each of us has the ability to make the world a little more perfect. It’s not our job to make the whole world perfect. That’s too much for any of us. However, we do have the ability to do little things to make the world better. That’s the essence of the story of Adam and Eve. It’s not about how the snake convinced Eve or how Eve tempted Adam. It’s not about how God took Adam’s rib to make Eve. It’s about each of us doing our part to make the world a little bit more like the Garden of Eden.
It can sound overwhelming but it’s not. It is the little things. At our hotel in Jerusalem, I say hi and good morning to all of the people who work here. The man who cleans my room is a nice guy, we talk throughout the day when I see him. Instead of thinking of him as less than or pretending not to see him, I recognize him and treat him nicely. He does the same to me. Treating everybody as an equal human being makes the world a better place. That’s an easy thing for us all to do if we simply pay attention and make the effort.
Adam and Eve had a big dream to make the world resemble the Garden of Eden. Bigger dreams have bigger impacts. We know one thing for sure, we cannot achieve a dream that we don’t have. Dreamers in today’s world often get shut down. There are too many challenges, too many risks to dream. Yet it is dreamers who change the world. Steve Jobs used to dream about making devices that you didn’t even know you needed. The iPhone. The iPad. I remember the Thanksgiving discussion with my grandfather and my father about desktop computers. My grandfather was 100% certain that there was no way that every house would want, need, afford, or have a computer. In the end, he was right. In my house we don’t have one computer. We have 6 or 7 computers (including laptops) and that doesn’t include iPads, iPhones, Apple Watches, etc. Steve Jobs’ dream changed the world.
It isn’t just Steve Jobs though. I remember a few years ago reading about a man named Rodney Smith Jr. I’m sure you have all heard of him. What? You haven’t? Rodney Smith Jr. came up with an amazing idea. He wanted to raise boys into men, girls into women AND help those in need. How does he do this? He created a nonprofit called Raising Men and Women Lawn Care Service that encourages them to take the 50-yard challenge. They are challenged to cut 50 lawns FREE for the elderly, disabled, single parents, veterans, & anyone in need of help in your town. At each level of 10 they receive a new t-shirt of a different color and when they reach 50 lawns, the come to visit the boy or girl and present them both their black shirt to mark 50 lawns and give them a brand-new lawn mower, weed eater & blower! How cool is that? They are now in all 50 states, 8 countries, and have thousands of kids mowing lawns for people who need help. In the winter, they shovel snow, and, in the fall, they rake leaves. They are truly making a difference in the world. Rodney Smith Jr. has made the world better for the thousands of children who are giving back, for their parents, and for the tens of thousands of people who get their services.
Steve Jobs had another important quote for this context. He said, “We’re here to put a dent in the universe. Otherwise, why else even be here?” Each of us has the ability to put a dent in the universe. As it says in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of our Fathers), Chapter 2:16; “(Rabbi Tarfon) used to say… It is not up to you to finish the task, but you are not free to avoid it.” Our job is to participate in the job that Adam and Eve started. Making the world as close to the Garden of Eden as possible. What are you going to do today to make the world a better place? What are your random acts of kindness going to be? What impact will you make today. We all have the opportunity to change the world a little bit every day. The questions is are you going to do your part?
As I have said many times, I am not a religious person. I don’t go to synagogue often. In fact, a monthly Sunday morning service is all I do right now. And I only go because of the way it is done. It is done in a meaningful and intentional way. It is done not only for the ‘how’ of praying but more importantly for me, the ‘why’. I began learning Torah with a Rabbi a few years ago because I valued the discussion and questions that came out of the process. Studying Torah became about how I choose to live my life today rather than learning some stories verbatim and being able to repeat them back.
I often think that the challenge people have with religion and services, both in the Jewish and non-Jewish communities, is that we are taught only the HOW. We are never taught the WHY. One of my favorite parts of being Jewish has been that I have begun to ask the WHY question and don’t really care that much about the HOW. The WHY is what matters.
Simon Sinek’s amazing Ted Talk about Start with Why. The Why matters.
It’s interesting that for a guy who isn’t religious, doesn’t really like going to synagogue, doesn’t keep kosher, has his own definition of keeping Shabbat (I don’t do work but I drive, cook, drive a car, turn on the TV, etc. I just don’t do professional work (most of the time)) that I find wisdom in the Torah. As a few friends and teachers have told me, “The Torah is the instruction manual for life.” I think it’s because of the teachers that I have found and the way they teach, how they explain the WHY of things rather than the literal story, that I find meaning and inspiration to be a better person.
I was excited that on this trip, the young adults and I were going to have the opportunity to learn some of the WHY from my longtime colleague and friend, Aryeh Ben-David. From my experiences with him over the past 15 or so years, I knew that he would get to the WHY and boy did he. He did in a brilliant and simple way, using only the first verse of the Torah.
Genesis verse 1 talks about the creation of the earth. Most of know the story of the six days of creation and the 7th day God rested. None of this was what Aryeh discussed. Instead, we focused on THE major life question. WHO AM I?
Three words. None more than 3 letters. Yet it is perhaps the most asked and the most challenging question for all of us. We start the Torah with the big question. Judaism doesn’t mess around. Let’s get right to it.
As we discussed the question first in chevruta (pairs of two) and then as a big group, we were able to bring it together with Aryeh’s guidance to two things. First, we are made in God’s image so that we are all perfectly as God intended. This also means we have to strive to be more Godlike in life. Secondly, we are both dust and soul. The two don’t get along. They fight constantly over us. Are we focused on the here and now and pleasures of the body? Or are we going to be focused on delayed gratification, making things have meaning, going deeper into what we are doing and why we are doing it? Every choice we make is between the immediate pleasure or the delayed gratification. The shallow or the deep. One thing became very clear. While there are people only for the dust (immediate pleasure), they are few and far between and typically easy to identify because they look like a caricature. There are very few who are all about the soul (delayed gratification) and they are also easy to identify. They are monks. They deny the physical entirely, never marrying, living in isolation, depriving themselves of everything but the basics. The challenge is the balance between the two.
There is a place for the dust. We want nice things and there is nothing wrong with having nice things. Good food. Good wine. A nice house. A nice car. Good clothes. An enjoyable sex life. Money in the bank. The ability to travel. The question is always, “at what cost?” Where is the balance? At what point are we only serving ourselves and not serving the larger community or God (and if you don’t believe in God, replace the word with nature or civilization or whatever you want). Do we want to be like the wealthy attorney who owns the huge fields in Israel that we picked apples at and who donates all the food to those who are in need, or do we want to be the person who owns large parcels of land and lets them sit empty because they merely want to make a profit on the resale of the property? Do we want to keep all our money, time, and talent for our benefit or do we want to give our money, time and talent to help others and improve the world. These are the questions we need to ask.
In these crazy times that we currently live, this first verse of the Torah is more important than ever. Do we want to fight hate or make money off it? Do we want to hide and stay quiet, hoping it will pass us by or do we want to do the right thing and stand up against it? Do we want to spend the time to get educated and understand the nuance or believe the soundbites and move on? What are our morals? What are our ethics? What do we stand for? The old saying, “If you don’t stand for something you will fall for anything” has never been truer.
We can even take this into the United State political arena. Do you want to be part of the country that hates the other part of the country? Do you want to live in hating the other political party and their candidates? Would you rather work to solve our society problems? These are choices we get to make every day. Do we want to be spending more of our time on the dust, the physical plane or the soul, the spiritual plane. Note that none of this has to do with religion or even being Jewish although the thought and questions come from the Torah.
Each day we get to ask ourselves these questions. Each day, when we wake up, we have the opportunity to make new choices. In a different session, as we discussed a few of the prayers, there were two that jumped out at me. The first, Modeh Ani, is what we are supposed to say every morning. It is a simple thank you to God for letting us wake up. It also ties into the dust and soul issue. Our soul leaves us at night and returns in the morning. Sleep is for the physical, the dust. While I don’t usually say the Modeh Ani when I wake up, I do thank God every morning when I wake up. It’s the first think that I do (maybe the second after using the bathroom). I thank God for giving me the day ahead and everything that comes with it. It takes me a minute or two and it’s really very simple. “Thank you, God, for the day ahead and everything that comes with it. I am excited to be alive today and grateful that you gave me the gift of life today.” That’s the entire prayer. Each morning when I say it, it inspires me to take action in the day, no matter what the day entails. Sometimes I say it out loud, sometimes in my head. I say it every day.
The second prayer that jumped out at me was the first prayer of the morning service. It is a strange one. We thank God for giving “the rooster understanding to differentiate between day and night.” What a weird thing to say as the very first prayer of the service. We all sat there thinking about why we would say that. What makes that so important to have it be the first prayer of the morning service. Our teacher talked to us about how the most precious thing we have in life is time. On a trip with a group of young adults, all under 26, that’s an interesting concept to discuss. Time is endless for them. They are in the beginning of living as adults. We talked about how Judaism ensures we mark time to remember how important it is. A bris or baby naming. Bar/Bat Mitzvah. Wedding/chuppah. Yahrzeit (anniversary of somebody’s death). We constantly mark the passage of time to not forget how important it is. We say this prayer so that we notice not just the passage of time but also that we pay attention to all the little things that happen every single day that we take for granted. The sun rising. Food to eat. Clothes to wear. Shelter. Loved ones in our life. The rooster knowing the difference between day and night is to symbolize nature and all the things we take for granted. We start each day with gratitude by saying Modeh Ani or our own thank you to God for the day ahead. Then we thank God again for all the things we take for granted.
What a way to start every day. As most of you know, I’m not very religious so saying the Hebrew prayers isn’t something that I do regularly. Every day, I do thank God for the gift of the day and now I have the opportunity to thank God for all the things I take for granted. Maybe that will help me notice them during the day and not take them for granted.
On my trip to Israel last month, we learned about what a miracle it is to wake up in Jerusalem. To breathe the air in Jerusalem. To walk the streets. This morning, I woke up in the Southern Galilee to beautiful views. God as an artist. We rode jeeps around the area, looking at the fields growing fruit and vegetables. At the mountains and the sky. At the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). When we are in a different place and see the beauty around us, it is very easy to notice it. What about in our own daily life? What about in our own homes, looking at our own backyards?
View of the lower Galilee. The Kinneret n the distance. Israel, Syria, and Jordan in the background.
As I spend two weeks of July in a country at war after spending 10 days here in May and planning another 10 days in August, I am so grateful for many things. Grateful for the existence of the State of Israel. Grateful to the IDF who protect this country. Grateful that I have the ability to come to Israel as often as I have in my life. Grateful for the pioneers who made the desert bloom. Grateful to the leaders like David Ben Gurion, Moshe Dayan, Golda Meir, Shimon Peres, Menachem Begin, Yitzhak Rabin, Ariel Sharon, and many more who created this country. I have the opportunity to live in the dust, enjoy being able to come here and enjoy the food, the people, the beach, and everything it has to offer. More importantly, I have the opportunity to live in the soul as well, fighting on Israel’s behalf to educated and inform people about what it is really like and what is really happening. I have the opportunity to let my soul open up while here and make sure it stays open when I return home.
A short video from the lower Galilee with Israel, Syria, and Jordan in the background. It highlights how close everything is and is a way for me to educate and speak out on Israel’s behalf.
In Pirkei Avot 1:6, there is a famous line that I have chosen to live by. To paraphrase it, we are charged to find ourselves a teacher, make them our friend, and judge others with grace and giving them the benefit of the doubt. While all three are important, I sometimes struggle with the third and it is the first two that I am living by. I have found myself not just a teacher but a few teachers. They have become my friends. They provide me guidance to be a better person. They explain things and I ask lots of questions. They make it relatable to my life today, in 2024. One of my teachers, who I have been learning with and from for more than 20 years, told me a few weeks ago that I was now a yogi. That was high praise from him and I’m not sure that I really believe that, but I have come a long way. They all continue to inspire me. I learn from all of them.
So, who are you? Where do you stand in the balance of dust and soul? If you don’t know, that is totally ok. Most people do not know. Find yourself a teacher. Make them your friend. Learn. It is not about being more religious. It is about learning life lessons and how to apply them. It is about finding meaning for you in what you choose to do. It is a deeply personal journey and a powerful one. I encourage you to begin the journey. From my experience, it is one you will really enjoy.
My favorite band. One of their great songs. Who are you? That’s the key question.
In case you want to listen. Watching Keith Moon on drums is always a joy.
I went to minyan this morning. For those that know me or follow me, you know that I am not religious and rarely go to synagogue. The Rabbi that I learn with has begun a monthly Sunday morning minyan and I have committed to going to support him. I bring my tallis and tefillin (the prayer shawl and the black boxes that go on your arm and your head) and one of my many prayerbooks that I rarely use to join the group. Somehow, the group is always a group of friends so it’s a bonus to see them too.
I have found that I really enjoy going. It’s not because I have become religious, it is because the service is done in an intentional and meaningful way. As we go through the prayers, what we are actually praying for and about is explained very briefly. “This section is where we ask God to help the world in difficult times.” Simple. Clear. It provides context to what we are saying and why we are saying it. It’s a tour through the prayerbook.
It reminds me of the playbill at the theater where they tell you what each scene is going to be. When I learn with my Rabbi friend, we start by exploring the Siddur. When we started doing this, I wasn’t very excited. Services haven’t been meaningful to me in a very long time and exploring the Siddur wasn’t on my list of things to do. I decided to be open to it and as we discuss a prayer and I understand what it is and why we say it, it has become interesting. It reminds me of what my friend Roie, an IDF soldier at the time, said after Shabbat services. The conversation went as follows:
Roie: So you know how to read the Hebrew words?
Us: Yes.
Roie: And you know the tune to sing it?
Us: Yes.
Roie: But you have no idea what you are saying?
Us: That’s correct
Roie: I don’t understand!
This was repeated over and over again. He couldn’t understand how we could know the words and the tune but not what we were saying or why we were saying it. He understood that just knowing the words and the tune wasn’t enough. It wasn’t meaningful. We were missing out on the entire purpose of what we were doing. How could Judaism be meaningful if we didn’t know what we were actually doing or why we were doing it.
I turn 57 this year and these minyanim are the first time that the parts of the service were actually explained. As the different sections were explained, it began to make sense. There was actual intention in each part. There was a purpose to what we were saying.
One of the things that really struck me today was his explanation of the Modim Anachnu Lach prayer. It was so simple and so basic. He said, “Nobody can say thank you to God for you except you. You have to thank God yourself. That’s what this prayer is for.”
Wow. Three short sentences and the prayer that I have said at services most of my life suddenly had real meaning. What I have found is that Judaism has great meaning. We simply don’t provide that type of content to our children and as a result, when they are adults, they aren’t interested. When we show the meaning, people get engaged and excited.
There was recently a great poem written by Lizzy Savetsky titled, “The Six Pointed Star”. It talks about who we are and points out that the hatred of today provides us with a reminder of who we are and that perhaps, we need to get back to basics and remember we are Jews and what being a Jew means. I hope you enjoy her reciting it as much as I did.
The Six Pointed Star
There is something special about being Jewish. I am not saying that Jews are better than anybody else. It’s a more than 3,500-year-old peoplehood. My friend Avraham Infeld had many sayings that I love. One was when he would say, “Judaism in NOT a religion. We are a mishpacha (family) that shares a common religion.”
Those words struck me not only the first time I heard them but every time after. They resonated with me. Being Jewish is about being part of a family. It’s about being part of something bigger than yourself. It’s why going to minyan this morning felt good. I was with family. We were spending our morning together. We greeted each other with hugs. We spent time after the minyan talking about our lives.
It is why Jewish holidays are a big deal. We get together for a Passover Seder, to light the Hanukkah menorah, to eat in the sukkah or to dress up and eat hamantaschen. Every holiday is about being together. This year, I spent Yom HaZikaron (Israel’s Memorial Day) and Yom Ha’atzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day) in Israel. After October 7th and in the middle of a war, it was more important to be together. It meant more to Israelis that we were there than ever before. Their brothers and sisters from across the Atlantic came to support them. Their brothers and sisters came to show support and love.
Part of the reason Judaism and Jews are still here, more than 3,500 years later, is because we are more than a religion. Rabbi Harold Kushner z”l, in his book, To Life, asks the question, “What do you have to believe in order to be Jewish?” It is a great question. The answer is very simple. NOTHING! You don’t have to believe anything. You are born Jewish. If you convert, the minute you convert, you are now Jewish forever. Don’t believe in God? You are still Jewish. Don’t believe in keeping Kosher? Still Jewish. Don’t want to pray 3 times a day? Still Jewish. Don’t wear a kippah or follow the laws of Jewish purity? Still Jewish. Another of my favorite Avraham Infeld quotes is when he talks about people who convert to Judaism. He says there is no such thing a convert. The minute you convert, you are a Jew. Period. But, he says, there is a term ‘converted Jew’. This is somebody who is Jewish who converts to another religion. He says, “They only think they are the other religion. They are still a Jew.” We are more than a religion. We are more than a people. We are a mishpacha (family). So why not get to know your family a little better? Why not learn about your family? The more you learn, the more you will love your familiy and the more you will be happy and feel lucky to be a part of this family. As the famous Life Cereal commercial said, “Try it, you’ll like it”.
Shabbat (the Sabbath) is an interesting concept. A day of rest. A day where you don’t do work. A day of reflection. What is it really and what do words like rest, work, and reflection actually mean?
I have never found an interest in ‘keeping shabbat’ (following all the rules) in a strict sense. Not turning on light switches or the using the remote control never made sense to me. Driving isn’t really work, is it? You turn a key or push a button and it starts. After that, what’s the difference? Not turn on the oven or stove. Why can’t I push buttons on the microwave or the air fryer? And not carry? Why do pants have pockets anyway?
When I am in Israel, Shabbat becomes a little bit clearer. I typically find that I look forward to it for a number of reasons. First, by the time Friday afternoon arrives, I am usually wiped out. The thought of having a day with little to do and a chance to really unplug from the prior week is attractive. Going to the Kotel (Western Wall) for Shabbat services is always fun and meaningful. You’ll hear more about that later. A nice dinner with friends that is leisurely and relaxing? Sign me up.
On this trip I had the privilege of learning from three amazing people. As we were walking back to the hotel on Friday after an amazing morning at the Begin Center, I started asking Lori Palatnik, the founder of Momentum, about Shabbat. I understand the prohibition about not working and a day of rest, but my definition of work isn’t starting and driving a car, turning on the stove or oven and cooking, turning on the TV, changing channels and watching shows. So how does that reconcile? Lori taught me something interesting that I am still chewing on. She told me that there is no prohibition against work. That is a wrong interpretation. The prohibition is for creating. And the reason there is a prohibition against creating is that Shabbat is a chance to honor and recognize THE creator, God. The reason she doesn’t do these things is because they involve creating. On Shabbat, it’s all about our creator, God.
It is an interesting concept to take a day each week and use it to honor and thank God. I meditate and pray every day. I have for more than 35 years. I don’t use a prayerbook when I pray, it’s a quiet conversation with God. Over the years it has gone from asking him for things that I wanted to thanking him for the things that I have. When I meditate, it’s often in silence, just focusing on my breathing and paying attention to all the sounds around me. I get in touch with God and with the world. Sometimes I will do a guided meditation to mix it up and they are enjoyable as well. But most of the time, my meditation is about getting closer to God.
So what if I was to expand my practice of prayer and meditation to take a full day each week and focused entirely on that connection with God? I don’t know that I’d go to synagogue or follow a formal process, but what if I were to unplug, honor our creator, and not worry about making anything for a day? It’s an interesting question and one that I will ponder for a while.
I also had the opportunity to learn with Rabbi Yakov Palatnik, Lori’s husband. I have seen him on other trips, but this was the first time I really got to spend time with him, and WOW! I have been missing out. This quiet and humble man is filled with incredible wisdom. One of the things we discussed that really intrigued me was about prayer. As a scholar of Maimonides (the Rambam), he told me that the Rambam said you need three things in a prayer.
The first is to praise God and acknowledge his greatness. While I am not an overly religious person, that is something I always do. One of my favorite things to say is that God often does for me, what I can’t do for myself. I have seen that happen over and over again in my life. Things happen that I hate and that I think are awful and I would get upset about. A few days or weeks or months later, I would look back and realize it was the best thing that could have happened. I know and understand the greatness of God and it centers me and gives me great comfort.
The second is to ask for what you want or need. As I said, I used to do this but stopped. In part this was because of my understanding of the greatness of God. Who am I to ask? I don’t know what’s best for me. Isn’t it better to ask God just to take care of me and that’s enough? Rabbi Palatnik said no. He said we have to ask because we have to know ourselves. If we don’t ask it means we don’t know. Of course God knows, and we aren’t asking for him to know. We are asking to show that we know. We are asking because we have done our part and done the work. That makes sense to me but it is still going to be uncomfortable to ask for things for myself. That is because of the third thing that Rabbi Palatnik told me Maimonides required in prayer.
You have to say Thank You to God. That I do every day. I thank God for giving me another day of life. Sometimes it’s saying the Modeh Ani, but most of the time it is just saying thank you for another day. I say it at night when I go to sleep. I say it throughout the day. Part of the reason I struggle with asking God for things is because I know he will take care of me and I’d rather say thank you than ask for things that I may think I want but in hindsight I wish I didn’t get. Saying thank you to God is comforting to me.
It is an interesting process for sure. Over the next few days, weeks, and month, I am going to follow Rabbi Palatnik’s suggestion to listen to the Rambam. I’m going to work to make sure I include all three components in my prayers. We will see what happens as a result.
Lori and Rabbi Palatnik and me. Two great teachers. One average student.
The third person I got to learn from was our trip leader, Saul Blinkoff. Saul is an amazing man, and you can google him to learn more about him. During Shabbat, he said two things that really resonated with me.
The first is that what you will die for determines what you live for. It’s a fascinating concept. He shared the story of a woman in a concentration camp during the Holocaust. The woman looked like she was ready to end her life when she walked up to the Rabbi in the camp and asked for a knife. The Rabbi was shocked and worried about her. She demanded a knife again. The Rabbi didn’t have one and tried to talk to her. She looked behind him and saw a member of the SS who had a knife. She walked up to him, grabbed the knife, reached down to her leg and pulled a baby out from under her uniform. She had recently given birth and was keeping the baby a secret. She took the knife, performed a circumcision, a Brit Milah in Hebrew, entering her son into the covenant with God. She then gave the knife and the crying, newly circumcised baby to the SS officer, turned around and walked away. A minute later there was a shot and the baby stopped crying. A few seconds later and the SS officer shot the woman in the back of the head. She knew what she was willing to die for – to be Jewish and part of the Jewish people. So she knew what she was living for.
It is a powerful lesson and question. What am I willing to die for? What is so important to me that I would sacrifice my life for it? I have started my list and will be thinking about this for a long time. Once I know what I would die for, I will know what I live for and can make sure that’s what I am doing in my daily life.
The other lesson Saul taught me on Shabbat was about the mezuzah. I have had a mezuzah on my door for many, many years. I know what it is, why it is there, what is inside it, what it says, where the commandment comes from. One of my clients has a focus on the mezuzah so I’ve learned even more over the past few months. And yet, Saul taught me something new and important. He said that one reason the mezuzah is on the door is because it signals a transition. When we walk into the home from outside, we need to leave our outside problems at the door. It is a visible signal to change our focus to what is inside the house, our family, and go all in. What a really cool concept. A visible reminder of what is important. This is one that I have already started using. When I walk through a new door with a mezuzah on it, I think about where I am going to and what mindset do I need in this new space.
Saul Blinkoff teaching us. What an amazing man and teacher. Lucky and proud to call him my friend.
Learning stuff like this to challenge my behaviors and beliefs is really cool (at least to me) but that isn’t the only special part of Shabbat. As I have said, I am not the most religious person and don’t really go to shul. Ok, I don’t go to shul unless it is a family simcha (celebration). In Israel, I don’t want to miss Shabbat at the Kotel (Western Wall). It is joyous, fun, exciting, and meaningful. There are so many different types of Jews there and so many different services going on. And you never know who you are going to see. This Shabbat was no exception. As we got to the Kotel and began our service, I looked ahead and saw Rabbi Lipskier from Chabad at UCF. I quickly made my way over to him to give him a big hug and to wish him Shabbat Shalom. Only in Israel! I returned to our group and the singing and dancing began. We were a group of about 25-30 men. This is small on Friday night at the Kotel but as we sang louder and danced, we started seeing others come over and join us. IDF soldiers in uniform. Hassidic men. Men in Black hats. Men pulling out their kippah from their pocket before they joined us. Men with the big fur hat. Men who looked like they belonged at a Grateful Dead show. Even a little boy. It was amazing to see all these different types of Jews join us to sing and dance.
When it was over and it was just our group again, I started thinking about how this was an allegory for the world. If Jews of all different types can come together at the Kotel on Shabbat and not only pray together and separately but also join together in unification, why can’t we do it elsewhere. Forget about the entire world, why can’t we do this in our local communities? Why can’t we find different types of people who will be happy with their differences and yet also celebrate their similarities? What can we do to make our local communities look more like the Kotel on Shabbat? Different types of people enjoying both their differences and similarities. That’s the type of world I want to live in.
My takeaway is really something else that Rabbi Palatnik taught me during this trip. We have to be able to learn from everybody. It is a fascinating concept that everybody has something to teach us. It doesn’t matter who they are, where they come from, how much or how little they have, how well educated they are or are not, or anything else. Everybody in the world has something to teach us. I haven’t only learned from these three amazing people on this trip. I learned from the other men on the trip. I learned from some of the women on the women’s trip who spoke. I learned from the French Machal soldiers and the families from Kibbutz Alumim who have been relocated. I learned from the farmer, visiting Kfar Aza and Nova. I learned from the Chabad Rabbi who put my tefillin on at the Kotel on Wednesday. When I am open to thing, I can learn from everybody.
I know how to put on Tefillin but I can still learn from the Chabad Rabbi who did it for me at the Kotel.
What a powerful thought – to learn from everybody and every interaction. That sure makes us all better people and makes for a better world.
A number of years ago, I was exposed to Jewish learning in a different way. Instead of the boring lecture style of a classroom, I was in a group of 3 where one of us was the leader and would guide us into a discussion of Jewish text. We spent months over a weekly lunch discussing the book of Daniel. It was fun and interesting and something that I looked forward to each and every week. It was very unlike my Hebrew School experience which I found boring. I never thought that learning Jewish texts could be both fun and interesting. I learned that I was wrong.
Since then, I have had the opportunity to learn with a few different people. It’s something that I enjoy as I have found it to be intellectually challenging. With a good learning partner, it’s not about the dry words, it’s about how the words come to life. What can we learn from the words and the teachings that apply to our lives TODAY? How does it impact the choices we make now?
I want to share a few examples of this from my own life and experiences.
Many years ago, at UF Hillel, I gave a D’var Torah (sermon) on one of the High Holidays. I talked about how for many years, I found the Torah to be a dusty old scroll. It wasn’t relevant. It wasn’t that interesting, especially since I didn’t speak Hebrew. And, quite honestly, I preferred the movie (The 10 Commandments, still a favorite.) I shared how I was exposed to this different type of Torah learning. How it was a discussion and debate. How I could ask questions and disagree and argue my points of view with another person. They would argue back, and it would be a passionate conversation. We would understand each other and sometimes agree at the end, and sometimes still disagree. How it was intellectually challenging even if I wasn’t a Torah scholar and couldn’t speak Hebrew.
One of my most memorable experiences with this type of learning happened in Israel when we visited Hebron, where the tombs of the Matriarchs and Patriarchs are (other than Rachel). We sat between the tombs of the Patriarch Abraham and the Matriarch Sarah, which was surreal by itself, and discussed the story when God told Sarah she was going to have a baby when she was 90 years old, and she laughed. My friend Harry Rothenberg led the learning session. What did that mean? What could it mean? We dissected the story and the different possibilities. It was fascinating hearing all the different possible interpretations of this story. At the end, Harry shared his interpretation. How it was really a love story between Abraham and Sarah. How it was about communication and honesty between partners. How it described not just their relationship but included relationship lessons for us today. It wasn’t anything that I had contemplated before we sat down or during the conversation. And then I thought how amazing it was to be talking about the love story of Abraham and Sarah while sitting between their burial tombs. It is an experience I will never forget.
A year later, back in Israel with Harry, we were climbing Masada. I’ve climbed Masada with both the snake path and Roman path many times. The Roman path is pretty easy and quick. The snake path is longer, harder, and more meaningful. This morning we took the snake path. I had been having some health issues and probably should have take the cable care to the top instead, but I was stubborn and chose poorly. As I was making the long climb, I found myself needing to stop very frequently to catch my breath and let my heart rate slow down. Everybody else passed me and a couple of friends slowed down to stay with me as we made the climb together. Harry started late and came upon us. He joked about me resting until I told him what was going on. He then said he’d walk with us slowly as well. I then challenged him – use this moment to teach me a little Torah. I figured I had stumped him!! Instead, he thought for a minute and told me the following story.
When Moses led the Jewish people to the edge of entering Israel, he was not permitted to enter the land. He begged God thousands of times to please change his mind and let him enter the land. God would not relent and change his mind. However, after all of Moses’s pleading, God told Moses to climb to the top of the mountain where he would be able to see all of Israel. Moses climbed the mountain and looked out at all of Israel. His heart broke into pieces at the beauty and that he wouldn’t be able to enter the land. It is those pieces of Moses’s heart in all of us that creates our longing and love for Israel.
Harry took a Torah lesson, applied it to the mountain we were climbing, and our love and passion for Israel. It was a beautiful moment. He has a weekly video blog that I encourage you to check out. It’s 3-4 minutes and I find it interesting each week.
This week’s video blog by Harry Rothenberg, an attorney who is the best Jewish educator I have ever experienced.
When I lived in Seattle, I spent some time with Rabbi Levitin, the head of Chabad for the Pacific Northwest. One day at lunch, he was talking about a big talk he was about to give. The topic was about surrogacy and donor sperm/eggs. He then went to the Torah to cite passages that apply to various circumstance for surrogacy. Something we couldn’t contemplate at the time of the Torah, yet it applies today. We discussed how it might affect a couple if it was the man’s sperm and a donor’s egg. What if it was donor sperm and the woman’s egg? And what if it was donor sperm and a donor egg? Did it matter if the egg was implanted in a surrogate or in the woman who wanted the baby? Is there a difference in how parents would treat a child they ended up having biologically instead of one of the other ways? Fascinating topics and discussion points, all tied back to Torah lessons and commentators from centuries ago.
Now I learn with Rabbi Ehrenkranz from JOIN Orlando. Each week we meet to study and learn Torah. We meet in a public place, usually a Starbucks or Krispy Kreme. While I don’t wear a kippah all the time, I put one on when I learn Torah out of respect and in honor of what I am doing. So we sit in public, both wearing kippot, our siddurs open, reading out loud and discussing what we are reading. We also use the Sefaria app (a free download and really a great resource that is now adding Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sachs teachings to it) to study what the commentators said over thousands of years. We discuss, often debate, and I push him to better explain to me the things I either don’t understand or don’t agree with. Most of the time he is able to do it but there are still things that I struggle with and that’s ok. It’s part of the process. I just hope that I don’t frustrate him too much with my questions and challenges!
Usually nobody bothers us, but I remember one time when a man came over and asked if we were doing bible study. When we told him yes, his response was, “Cool!” and he walked away. As I think about what happened in the UK yesterday when a man was threatened with arrest because he was wearing a kippah while a pro-Palestinian march was going on because him being Jewish was threatening to them, I am grateful we can learn publicly in Orlando. I also wonder when/if that will change here.
On two of my last three trips to Israel, I had the chance to go to a Yeshiva in Jerusalem on Thursday night for an hour-long learning session from 11 pm until midnight. Usually I’m asleep well before 11 pm (I have gotten old). I was worried I would fall asleep in the middle of it and embarrass myself. Yet when it started, it was interesting and exciting. It was a legal discussion. It was back and forth. Voices raised a bit. Excitement when somebody thought they had the answer. Disappointment when the explanation showed they were wrong but vindication when their thought process was affirmed. The hour went fast. The Rabbi teaching us shared his explanation. It was great. And then we had chicken poppers and cholent while hanging out. What a fun night. So much fun that it now happens in Orlando as well. I don’t go often but enjoy it when I do. There is a good crowd of regular people like me, not Torah scholars, who enjoy the back and forth. We have to think thoroughly. We build off prior lessons. We do it together.
Learning at the Yeshiva in Israel – it was captivating
Being Jewish is often seen as being a burden. In fact, Rabbi Ehrenkranz and I talked this week about how being Jewish means you are taking on more responsibilities. How we are the chosen people because we have chosen to take on these responsibilities. If you are like me, then as a child you weren’t given meaningful Jewish content. You never had the chance to argue with a teacher about Jewish topics. It was bible stories and boring things. Judaism was the thing for my parents and not something that was meaningful to me. And yet that changed dramatically for me as I got past what and how I was taught as a child and understood the meaning that was possible. I’m far from Orthodox. I don’t go to synagogue. I don’t keep kosher. Yet I find the teachings of the Torah fascinating. I find the exploration of Jewish texts to be relevant and impactful. Hanging mezuzahs, putting on tefillin (occasionally), lighting shabbat candles, the Hanukkiah, baking challah, and other Jewish rituals are meaningful to me. I’m excited to build a sukkah in my backyard this year. I don’t think I’ll sleep in it, but I will enjoy building it and eating in it and hanging out in it. It’s fun. Judaism can be fun. Learning Torah can be fun.
So much fun singing Hotel California with this Hassid at Mamilla Mall in Jerusalem – proof that being Jewish can be fun.
So if you decide you want to start a journey like I did with Jewish learning in this way, let me know. I’ll find somebody for you to learn with so you can find the joy that I have. I encourage you to try – I’m willing to bet you won’t be disappointed.
Dancing at the Kotel on Friday night – so much fun being Jewish
I have written extensively about how behind the times I am when it comes to music. I recently discovered the 2001 song by Alan Jackson, Where were you? (when the world stopped turnin’). He wrote it about September 11, 2001 not long afterwards and performed it only 10 days later at the Country Music Awards (CMAs). I find it very impactful, not just as it reminds me of what I felt and was going through after 9/11 but also what I felt like on October 7th and continue to feel today.
Jackson said that he had strong feelings and wanted to write something that expressed them without being political or partisan. He wanted it to clearly reflect his thoughts and feelings. This song accomplished that in an incredible manner. Since October 7th, I have been writing to try to do the same. When I heard this song and when I listened deeply to the lyrics, they not only speak about September 11th and the feelings afterwards but easily could reflect October 7th and afterwards. Many Israeli artists have written songs about October 7th and after but I haven’t heard or seen a single American songwriter or singer with the exception of Bono and U2 changing the words of the song Pride: In the Name of Love to reflect October 7th instead of April 4 and the Supernova music festival. You can see and hear the pain Bono is feeling. I remember being incredibly moved when I heard it for the first time and even today, as I listen to it, it brings tears to my eyes. I wish they would re-release it with altered lyrics.
Where were you when the world stopped turnin’ That September day? Were you in the yard with your wife and children Or workin’ on some stage in L.A.?
Most people know where they were on September 11, 2001 as it is part of our American psyche. I know where I was. Who I was talking to. What TV station I was watching. Where I was when the first tower fell. Where I was when the 2nd tower fell. Keeping in touch with my brother, who worked in NYC at that time, to check on his safety. Being grateful that my dad wasn’t flying that day – he had flown the day before. Running a Hillel meant I had students to attend to and their needs. The pain everybody felt was palpable. September 11th and days that followed were filled with hugs, tears, conversations, and questions.
October 7th was very similar for me. I remember exactly where I was, where I sat, what TV stations I watched, and who I was with. I remember sending WhatsApp messages to friends and family in Israel to check on them. The uncertainty of where the attacks were going to occur that day. Was it just going to be near the Gaza envelope? Were they going to be attacked from the north and Lebanon? What was the PA going to do and would we see terrorists coming in from the East as well?
There are moments in our lives that we never forget the details. My wedding. The birth of my children. Family simchas. The last day I spent with my father before he died. Three Mile Island (I lived nearby in Harrisburg at the time). The assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan. John Lennon and Yitzhak Rabin being assassinated. 9/11. October 7th. In one way or another, the world stopped turning on all of those days. Some due to joy, some due to sadness. How the world stopping turning impacted us and what we do with the changes that result is what’s key.
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of that black smoke Risin’ against that blue sky? Did you shout out in anger, in fear for your neighbor Or did you just sit down and cry?
On 9/11, when the first plane hit the first tower, I remember thinking it was an accident. We watched in horror but didn’t realize we were under attack. It wasn’t until the second plane hit the second tower that the shock really hit. Where was going to be next? My brother worked in NYC and his building was attached to Grand Central Station. Was that the next target? My dad was supposed to fly that week and his flight was changed. I tried to remember when it was changed. Was it changed so that he was flying that day? Was it the day before? Was it the day after? What about my friends who worked and lived in NY? Then the plane was crashed into Shanksville, PA and then into the Pentagon. Were there going to be more attacks? If so, where? How?
On October 7th, I sat there in shock. I couldn’t believe what I was watching and hearing. As I communicated with friends and family in Israel, it didn’t get any better. I shouted in anger, in fear for my friends and family. I sat in shock at what I watched and as names were released, prayed that I didn’t know any of them and was also sad that these people, these members of my Jewish family, were killed or taken hostage.
I couldn’t move from my chair in front of the television. I couldn’t change the channel. I didn’t want to talk to anybody as I had nothing to say. It was so unbelievable. When I did talk, it was usually filled with anger at what happened, not understanding where the IDF was. Not understanding how this was continuing as long as it was. Not understanding how it even happened. The more that was reported, the angrier I got at Hamas for doing it and for the Israeli government for missing the signs and for allowing it to happen. I got angry at the Gazan people who were welcomed into the kibbutzim for work and ate dinner with the families that they sold out to Hamas, ensuring their death or kidnapping.
We all have our own way of dealing with this type of trauma. Jackson’s point is that whatever we did, however we dealt with it, is what we needed. He isn’t saying one is better than the other. He isn’t saying if you didn’t do it his way, you were wrong. It’s a recognition that however we dealt with 9/11 or with October 7th, it’s what we needed to do in the moment. And that’s good enough.
Did you weep for the children, they lost their dear loved ones Pray for the ones who don’t know? Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble And sob for the ones left below?
On 9/11 it was common to weep for everybody. Those who were killed. Those who we didn’t know what happened. The families of both. We prayed for the yet to be born children who lost their father on 9/11. And the children who lost one or both parents. We celebrated those who managed to escape and to live. And mourned those who didn’t. We found heroes in the passengers that crashed the plane in Shanksville, PA instead of letting the terrorists crash it into what they wanted, which would have killed more people.
October 7th seems to be viewed differently by many. I recently saw the documentary about the SuperNova music festival. These young people who were there to celebrate music were massacred by evil terrorists. I saw the Hamas video which showed them celebrating the murder of civilians – the elderly, women, children, and adults. Kfir Babis was taken hostage at less than a year old and his brother at 4 years old are forgotten by most of the world. The American hostages have been forgotten by Americans and by our leaders. In Israel, there is an uprising against the government for how they are handling the hostage crisis. Families have been displaced for more than 5 months, both from the Gaza envelope and from the north, where Hezbollah is sending rockets every day into Israel.
The trauma of Israelis is forgotten. The trauma of the diaspora Jews is ignored. The world weeps for the children of Gaza who are dying because of Hamas but ignores the children of Israel who died because of Hamas. The Red Cross still hasn’t visited the hostages, 177 days later. They haven’t received their medication in 177 days. As the father of a child with Type 1 diabetes, I know what would happen if he went 177 days without insulin. After 9/11, America stood together in support of those impacted and those who lost loved ones. We stood together against evil. When it comes to October 7th, that stand only lasted a few days before they became held responsible for their own victimization by evil. It disgusts me. When I listen to Alan Jackson sing these words, I find myself burning inside, wondering why it doesn’t apply to Jews. Why does everybody else matter but we don’t. How can people who supposedly stand for morals, ethics, justice, equality, and the like actually show how fraudulent they are and not be held accountable.
My heart breaks daily for the families of the current hostages. It aches every day for the hostages that were released and their families, for what they must go through. It hurts for the families of the victims and the survivors of the SuperNova music festival massacre. I have a deep hole in my heart and my soul for everybody impacted by October 7th – the Jews, Bedouins, Arab-Israelis, Druze, Bhai’I, and the innocent Palestinians and people of Gaza (because there is a difference between the terrorists and the people). I wish the world mourned with me and stood up against evil. This verse reminds me that no matter how much we want to think that we can just fit in with society, we are always Jews first and the world will always look at us differently. They will weep and cry out for anybody other than us. They will mourn and fight for the rights of everybody other than us. We are the only ones who will stand up for ourselves.
The great Israeli leader Golda Meir had a number of quotes that reflects this reality. They include:
Did you burst out with pride for the red, white, and blue And the heroes who died just doin’ what they do? Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer And look at yourself and what really matters?
After 9/11, American pride was as high as I have seen since the 1980 US Olympic Hockey team beat the Soviets and then won the gold medal. We were united as Americans. Nobody was going to stop us. We were going to kill the terrorists, restore democracy, rule the world. Our first responders were all heroes. I remember the flag from the Twin Towers being flown at Yankee Stadium. We begin singing ‘God Bless America’ in the 7th inning of baseball games. We thanked our soldiers for their service.
The flag from ground zero flying at Yankee Stadium in 2001
We looked to God for answers. As a Hillel Director, it was an incredible time as students flocked to ask existential questions. Nobody was afraid to ask a question and seem uneducated because everybody was asking questions. People reassessed their lives, their values. Seeing these widows and orphans, pregnant women who lost their husbands, hearing the recording from the planes, inspired us all to be better people. “Let’sRoll”, said by Todd Beamer, before he and the other passengers on Flight 93 attacked the cockpit and the terrorists, crashing the plane into a field before it could be used as a weapon, was an inspiration to us all. We asked ourselves what we would do, what could we do, if we were in a similar situation.
October 7th was different for the world. As Jews, as Zionists, we asked where was the IDF. We were united in our grief, not in our dominance. We knew that Israel would respond, that war was here, and that Gaza would be devastated, but we took no pride in that. We took no joy. We wanted our hostages back. We wanted our country back. We wanted to dream of peace back. We sang Hatikvah, ‘Hope’, the Israeli national anthem with hope for the safe return of the hostages, safety for the IDF soldiers who were going to war, hope that peace would come quickly. The heroes we saw were ordinary people who raced into danger to help others.
Bedouins like Ismail Al-Karnawi, who left Rahat with three other family members to head towards Kibbutz Be’eri in order to rescue residents from the inferno. Sari Al-Karnawi, who served as a police officer at the Nova party and rescued partygoers from the attack. Muhammad Abu Najah, an employee of the cleaning company at Nova, who fought against the terrorists, called first responders, and warned others of the presence of terrorists. Omar Abu Sabeelah, who in Sderot heard a woman’s scream and saw Odaya Suissa with her two daughters, aged 6 and 3, and her husband Dolev who was shot dead by the terrorists. Despite being wounded, Sabeelah managed to reach the girls in the car and get them out to safety. He later died from his injuries. Yousef Alziyadneh, who saved the lives of approximately 30 Nova party revelers who were under fire. Anis Abu Dabbus, a senior paramedic crew at the Rahat Magen David Adom station, who acted with his crew in the Rahat and Ofakim area, treating the wounded and providing lifesaving treatment to many.
Heroes like retired general Noam Tibon, who got in his car with his wife and headed towards Kibbutz Nahal Oz, where his son, daughter-in-law, and two young granddaughters were hiding in their safe room as the Kibbutz was attacked and overtaken by Hamas terrorists. Tibon encountered a battle between IDF soldiers and Hamas and picked up a weapon and helped defeat the terrorists. He took 2 of the wounded soldiers to his wife who drove them to the hospital for treatment while he continued on foot until being picked up by another retired general who was answering the call and taken to the Kibbutz. 60 Minutes did a story on his heroism.
Countless other heroes like my friend Yaron Buskila, who left his house without a weapon to fight the terrorists and save lives. Yaron shared a little of what it was like and that little bit that he shared showed me not just his bravery, but the bravery of so many Israelis; Jewish, Bedouin, Arab, and Christian on October 7th.
On October 7th we all looked to heaven for an answer. An answer that will never come. Instead, we began to question ourselves about what really matters. What is important to us and how do we show that. How do we reprioritize our lives around the things that matter instead of the things we thought mattered before October 7th. It’s amazing to have lived in the post 9/11 world and the post October 7th world. Two terrorist attacks. Two tragedies. Two horrible things. Two very different outcomes and feelings.
I’m just a singer of simple songs I’m not a real political man I watch CNN, but I’m not sure I can tell you The diff’rence in Iraq and Iran
I find this to be one of the most profound lines in the song. So many of us don’t know what’s really going on. We didn’t know who the Taliban was before 9/11. We couldn’t tell you the difference between the Shiite country of Iran and the Sunni country of Iraq other than their rulers.
The same holds true after October 7th but it’s even worse. People don’t only know what Hamas and Hezbollah are, they don’t know that Gaza hasn’t been ‘occupied’ since 2005. They use phrases like “From the River to the Sea” and don’t know what river or what sea they are talking about. They use words like Apartheid and Genocide because they sound good and are powerful without understand the facts or definition of those words. They talk about the high number of civilians that have been killed, not understanding that war is terrible and civilians are killed, but that Israel is nearly 9 times better than the norm in minimizing civilan deaths. Instead of addressing the evil of Hamas, people are feeding into ancient Jewish tropes and feeding global antisemitism.
Israel-Hamas figures compared to the normal rates in war
I am concerned that this ignorance, this hate, will result in catastrophic events happening in the United States as we blame the victim and both encourage and allow the evil to grow.
But I know Jesus and I talk to God And I remember this from when I was young Faith, hope, and love are some good things He gave us And the greatest is love
One of my favorite things about Judaism is the way we look to God, to the Torah, for answers. There are always lessons to learn. Since October 7th I have spent much more time asking questions, learning Torah with Rabbis, and working to understand my role as a Jew in this world.
There is a line in Pirkei Avot, the lessons of our fathers, that always speaks to me. It comes from 2:16 and says that Rabbi Tarfon used to say, “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it.” After October 7th this hit home in a very different way. I am not a soldier and can’t fight with the IDF. I am not an Israeli citizen. I do not have the duty to finish the work of the war. However, I am also not able to just neglect the situation and not do my part. There are many ways to do my part and I have learned that there is much I can do. We all have roles to play and our responsibility is not to do everything but rather to play our part, to do what we can. Speak out. Get educated. Encourage others to learn and not just repeat things they hear.
We can also work to live with faith, hope, and love. This doesn’t mean excuse the behavior of the terrorists or those who repeat the lies because they don’t know better. We can have faith that Israel will defeat evil. We can have faith in God and the IDF. And we can focus on love. Love of the Jewish people. Love of our mishpacha (family). Love of Israel. Love of our family. Love of the teachings of the Torah (which if you know me doesn’t sound like something I would say.)
In these terrible times, in these times of desperation, we can still live with faith, hope, and love. We can choose to look to the future with positivity or negativity. We can do our part to make the world a beautiful, better place or we can allow it to die. The choice is ours.
Where were you when the world stopped turnin’ That September day? Teachin’ a class full of innocent children Or drivin’ down some cold interstate?
Did you feel guilty ’cause you’re a survivor? In a crowded room did you feel alone? Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her? Did you dust off that Bible at home?
This verse reminds us that the world did stop turning on both 9/11 and on October 7th. We don’t have to pretend that it didn’t. President Bush was reading to a class full of innocent children. We were all doing something when it happened, when we got the news.
President Bush reading to children as terrorists attacked on 9/11
We don’t have to live with survivors’ guilt. I wasn’t living in NY on 9/11 or in Israel on October 7th. Why would I have survivors’ guilt? Because I know people who were. I know people who lost loved ones. My life was altered only in the inconveniences I had to deal with after 9/11. October 7th meant that I didn’t get to go to Israel in November like I had planned. Yet the survivors’ guilt is real because I am part of a community. While I am an American, Israel is my homeland. I have a strong tie to Israel and my homeland, my love, was critically injured and damaged on October 7th. That is where my survivors’ guilt comes from. Because I haven’t been able to go to Israel since October 7th.
There are plenty of times when I do feel alone. People chanting antisemitic tropes. Dressing in Nazi uniforms and flying Nazi flags. When I see friends posting hateful comments that they don’t even necessarily understand are hateful and hurtful. I have learned who my friends really are and who aren’t. This can be painful but it’s also refreshing because I don’t have to include those people in my life any longer.
After 9/11 I made sure to talk to my parents, my siblings, and my loved ones. It was a reminder of how short life is. The same thing happened after October 7th. This type of brutality and horror reminds us how precious life is. How limited our time really is. What and who is really important to us. Last week I reached out to my friends who are Palestinian and live in that area. I wanted to see how they are doing. I wanted to let them know I was thinking of them. I wanted to let them know I consider them my friend no matter what is happening in the world. And that I want to see them when I get to Israel in the near future because they matter. I choose to live in faith, hope, and love, not in hate.
After 9/11 people began asking questions about God and opened a door that had been closed for them. October 7th was the same. The opportunity to study, to learn, to ask questions, and to explore Judaism, God, and spirituality was there and many of us took it. It opened me up to learning more, to being a better person, and to ask why I behave certain ways and is that reflective of the person I want to be. We have an opportunity to do better and to be better. I am taking that opportunity.
Did you open your eyes and hope it never happened Close your eyes and not go to sleep? Did you notice the sunset for the first time in ages And speak to some stranger on the street? Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow Go out and buy you a gun?
After 9/11 I know a lot of people who did close their eyes and hope it never happened. People who struggled with sleep. I wasn’t one of them. But after October 7th, I was. I hoped it was a nightmare. I hoped I would wake up and it was only a nightmare. I struggled to sleep and when I did sleep, it wasn’t restful. October 7th was much more personal for me than 9/11. Unfortunately, I think most of the country has forgotten the horror of 9/11 and October 7th happened ‘over there’ and ‘to them’ and doesn’t affect their daily lives.
I have chosen to invest more in random acts of kindness. Today I was at the grocery store behind a couple with a child that has a disability. It meant that they were going very slow. I was stuck behind them. Instead of getting frustrated and trying to push by, I took a deep breath and watched them with their daughter. And found joy in it. Instead of being angry and resentful, I was grateful and filled with love. All because I took a deep breath and didn’t push past them. I say hello to strangers and talk with them as people, not strangers. I will hold a door open, let somebody get in front of me, and enjoy the beauty of the day.
The world is a scary place and has only gotten scarier since October 7th. Being so public as a Jewish leader, I felt targeted and at risk. Long before October 7th, I did get training on firearms and made sure that I have them to protect myself. They are things I hope to only use on the range when I practice. But I won’t be a victim. I won’t allow my family to be at risk from the hatred that exists in the world. And I know I am not alone in these thoughts, concerns, and actions.
Did you turn off that violent old movie you’re watchin’ And turn on I Love Lucy reruns? Did you go to a church and hold hands with some strangers Stand in line to give your own blood? Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family Thank God you had somebody to love?
This last verse asks what we are doing differently. While there are specific things listed, it’s really about who you are and what you are doing as a result of 9/11 and now October 7th. There are many things I do differently today than I did prior to October 7th. I speak out much more often against antisemitism and hatred. I reach out to those I love and to my friends. I make sure my friends who are different religions, races, cultures, etc. know I care about them and that I am interested in our similarities, not our differences.
Like Pirkei Avot teaches us, I have an obligation to help with the work. So I give blood, hold doors, exhibit patience, spend more time with my family, tell those that I love that I love them. I invest in friendships and allow those that have been shown to not be investable to die so that I am investing in those of value.
I appreciate what I have in my life. I am a rich man because I want what I have rather than having what I want. I am grateful for the life that I get to live rather than worrying about the life I wish I had. I am more connected spiritually and am open to all that the universe brings to me.
I am committed to making the world a better place. That starts with those around me and in my local community. It means doing things for the right reasons. President Ronald Reagan had on his desk a sign that said, “There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go if he doesn’t mind who gets the credit.” That is how I live my life post October 7th. I don’t care who gets the credit. I don’t care about the recognition. I only care about what we can do together. What we can accomplish. How we can make the world a better place for all.
The paperweight from President Ronald Reagan’s desk
Where were you when the world stopped turnin’ On that September day?
The song ends with the haunting question that it began with. It reminds us that the world did stop turning. Both on 9/11 and October 7th the world was forever altered. We were forever altered. Where were we? What did we do as a result? How did we change? How did we change the world? What did we do to make the world a better place and to get it turning once again.
At the end of the day, all we can control is our own actions. What are you going to do today to make the world a better place? How are you going to change the world today? Remember that just because the world stopped turning on October 7th doesn’t mean we are free from the obligation to make sure it is turning once again. I’m up for the challenge and I hope you will join me.
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