Dear Friends,



As Purim approaches and as I reflect on its many tangled preoccupations–antisemitism, violence, diaspora, doubt, chance, victory, and, of course, humor–I find that I have many more questions than have answers. For me (and, I suspect, for many of you) this has been a major theme of 5784, one that I suspect will continue in the coming months, as we move towards Pesach and look ahead to the springtime holidays–Yom Hashoah, Yom Hazikaron, and Yom Ha’atzmaut. Questions will multiply, jockeying for position, demanding answers even as I struggle to make sense of the questions themselves. 

In Megillat HaShoah–the Holocaust Scroll, a new and powerful liturgical composition which was created in recent years at Mechon Schechter in Jerusalem and which we chant each year on Yom Hashoah–there is closing passage that reads: “Do not mourn too much, but do not sink into the forgetfulness of apathy. Do not allow days of darkness to return; weep, but wipe the tears away. Do not absolve and do not exonerate, do not attempt to understand. Learn to live without an answer. Through our blood, live!” This advice strikes me as very wise and very well suited to Purim this year. And in that spirit I will use the rest of this piece to share four questions that have haunted me lately. I think they’re worth asking, even as I cannot yet answer them. 

1.The sages in the Talmud teach מִי שֶׁנִּכְנַס אֲדָר מַרְבִּים בְּשִׂמְחָה–when the month of Adar arrives our happiness grows. Strikingly, the sages do not say that we are or have reason to be happy in Adar necessarily. They simply say מַרְבִּים בְּשִׂמְחָה–that we need to take active steps to increase our happiness, an ancient echo of Tevye’s “God would like us to be joyful even when our hearts lie panting on the floor.” But I wonder, sometimes–is that desirable? Is it advisable? Is it achievable? Is it permissible during a year such as this? I wish I knew.

2.Going all the way back to the satirical story in the Megillat Esther itself, Jews have wielded humor as a weapon against those who would seek to destroy us. Hamantaschen/Oznei Haman (Haman’s Ears, as they’re called in Israel) provide a marvelous example of this tactic. We take a frightening, murderous villain and transform him into a fun cookie. It’s a strange thing to do, if you pause to think about it. In that vein, this year some bakers in Israel have been baking and posting videos about “Oznei Sinwar” (Sinwar’s ears). Is that appropriate? Is it funny? Does it accomplish anything? I’ve spent a long time thinking about these questions and I’m just not sure.

3.Chapter 9 of the Megillah is, famously, a bloodbath. The Jews, after receiving permission from the king, wreak vengeance on their would-be killers, slaughtering 75,000 men, including Haman and his ten sons. Feasting and merriment follows. Jews have long expressed some misgivings about these passages–a discomfort that traditionally finds liturgical expression when the Megillah reader chants the passages very quickly or in an undertone. What are we to make of all this? What exactly is the story trying to teach us? These questions, though always present, are particularly acute this year. How do we even begin to approach this material in light of the ongoing war in Gaza? Once more, I don’t know what to say in response. The question only hangs over my Purim preparations, heavy and urgent.

4.How does divine reality (or, as the Megillah slyly suggests, divine unreality) figure into any of this? Megillat Esther, as many of you know, does not mention God at all, a distinction that it shares with only one other book in the Tanakh, Shir HaShirim (the Song of Songs). What are we to make of the fact that abject horrors of the Megillah and the rapturous joys of Shir HaShirim both take place in God’s absence? What did Rabbi Akiva mean he called Shir HaShirim the Holy of Holies? What did the sages mean when they said that in the time of Messiah, Purim, the only holiday in which God does not play a prominent role, will be the only holiday that we still celebrate? For the fourth time I’ll only say that I don’t know. 

I’ll let these four questions stand over in hopes that they resonate and that they will inspire you to ask your own. If you do have answers to these or any others please share them in the coming weeks and months. If not, along with our ancient ancestors, join me in saying teku. Let’s hope one day Eliyahu will help us find clarity. 

Chag Purim Sameach,

R. Resnick

Ben

“Thank you so much for having that flag up. I didn’t know where to go, but once I saw your flag, I knew where I was going.”

Every Sunday morning, Neco and I have been attending the rally for the Israeli hostages In NYC, at Central Park West and West 90th. Last week, the rally took place at a different spot - the Bandshell at W. 72nd street. As we were walking towards the meeting point, a woman walked by me and thanked me for having my Israel flag up so she knew where to go. She said that once she saw my flag up, she knew exactly what to do - “follow the flag”. Her words resonated with me - as it became clear that for me too, lately, that’s exactly what I have been doing - both for myself personally and for my students. I noticed that lately, the Israeli flag became a stronger symbol for me than it ever was.

After the horrific events of October 7th, I kept thinking about the saying from Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of the Fathers 1:14: “Rabbi Hillel used to say: If I am not for me, who will be for me? And when I am for myself alone, what am I? And if not now, then when?” We feel humbled and moved by the stories that keep coming out from that day and the days that followed, telling unimaginable tales of courage, heroism, spiritual and physical generosity, mutual help, care and personal sacrifice. 

Some sages say that the flag of Israel is a mirror of the story of the Exodus: the people of Israel (the Star of David), in a continuous journey from slavery to freedom, from shi’abud l’ge’ula, passing between the two walls of water (the parting of the sea). One more time, the events of October 7th and those who came afterwards remind us of our fragility and strength as a people at the same time. A people continuously in transition, never sitting still. Forced to take action due to persecution and intolerance, from biblical times to now, moving from the narrow spaces (Mitzrayim - Egypt - means narrow space) into the openness of the unknown. Starting anew at different places in different times, and rebuilding its nation state from nothingness to a full state, continuously seeking to create a fruitful and joyful life - “l’chayim!” - whilst feeling endangered by its neighbors.

My grandparents fled Ukraine and Poland and embarked on a long ship ride to the unknown lands of South America. Their tales of persecution, pogroms, and antisemitism still echo within me, especially when I watched incredulously the images from the October 7th events. They searched for freedom, peace, and security, and for almost 100 years, my family enjoyed it in Brazil. So did the parents and grandparents of my students in Pelham and NYC. On October 17th, 10 days after the worst terrorist attack on Israeli citizens, we stood together at the Gazebo in Pelham, holding Israel flags singing Hatikvah together with hundreds of others who wished to express their support for the victims and the hostages in Israel. Looking around the circle and seeing the flag standing in the middle of the city of Pelham, the same place that back in 1956 didn’t want Jewish children in their after school programs, refuting even the establishment of the PJC, gave me pause and hope. Seeing the flag of Israel in full display, having our fellow neighbors come together to support us in our grief and sorrow had a big impact on me and on the children that came with their parents to that important event. (Thanks Maurice Owen-Michaane for organizing!)

On that day, I could not possibly imagine that for all these months, we would continue to march with our flags, or that the immense grief I felt that week would continue to be with me even as I write these words. It’s been almost 6 months, from October 7th to now. We have been carrying the flag, the dog tag, the yellow bracelet, the blue ribbon, the yellow ribbon, praying, crying, commiserating, yelling “bring them home” on Sundays and reposting posts everywhere in social media. What else can we do? Signing petitions, talking about it, holding the flag, marching with the flag, crying, shouting it out.

This flag has given me so much hope and strength. Looking at the pair of blue stripes (a reference to the tallit, the Jewish prayer shawl) and the Star of David (in Hebrew, Magen David - David’s shield), I feel the connection with our ancestors as well as with our brothers and sisters in Israel. I don’t feel alone. I look at the flag, and I know where I am going. Rabbi Nachman of Breslov used to say, “wherever I go, I am going to Jerusalem”. Jerusalem as an idea, not only a place on the map, reminding us of the unique covenant between the Jewish people and G-d. Wherever I go, I look at the flag and I know where I need to go. Towards my values, my ancestry, my traditions and the promise of a better future - from slavery to freedom, from a narrow place to the unknown, always hoping for peace - shalom.

In a world of icons and avatars, of emojis and brands, it is empowering to carry a symbol that has been around for centuries and has meant so much to so many. The flag of Israel came to be as it is now in 1897, in preparation for the First Zionist Congress in Basel, as David Wolffsohn, a prominent Zionist, wrote: "What flag would we hang in the Congress Hall? Then an idea struck me. We have a flag—and it is blue and white. The tallit (prayer shawl) with which we wrap ourselves when we pray: that is our symbol. Let us take this Tallit from its bag and unroll it before the eyes of Israel and the eyes of all nations. So I ordered a blue and white flag with the Shield of David painted upon it. That is how the national flag, that flew over Congress Hall, came into being” The blue color is a reminder of the “tchelet” - from the verse in the Book of Numbers: the Israelites are commanded to have one of the threads of their tassels (tzitzit) dyed with tekhelet; "so that they may look upon it, and remember all the commandments of the LORD, and do them". Remember to do mitzvot, to act in this world guided by a moral compass. Look at the blue stripes and think of the sky, shamayim, the infinite and the expanse. Think beyond yourself, aim higher.

I have no illusions that all of Israel who unite under the banner are one in their ideas, traditions, costumes, and connection to Israel. But I know that there’s more of what unites us than divides us. Marching with my flag on Central Park on March 10th, with 3,000 other people yelling “bring them home now”, I felt I could connect to anyone around me just by looking into their eyes, and seeing the same angst and hope at the same time. I just wish that we continue to gather together around our values, seeking a future for our children that empowers them to be Jewish in a world of tolerance, embrace and peace among all nations. The name of our people - Israel, derives from the biblical words in Hebrew - one who struggles with G-d. Such is our struggle, and our flag expresses it in so many ways.

As many of us, I worry about Israel and what the future might bring - but as long as our flag can continue to inspire us to bring out our best selves, enabling us to continue to struggle with ideas, and bringing goodness around us and into the world, I hope we can find a path for peace and co-existence in the Middle East for both peoples to share the land of our mutual ancestors. It might take a long while, but our people has been around for a long time, and we will be here to see that future when it blooms.

Meanwhile, at the Learning Center, our students have been writing cards and sending their wishes of support to the displaced families, the soldiers and the children in Israel. 

In addition, Morah Lori Weber will be going on her second mission to support Israel, (Yasher Koach). She will be taking with her dozens of cards our students wrote; their words and drawings are a poignant reminder of our unbreakable connection to the people and the Land of Israel. I hope their cards bring solace and support to our brothers and sisters out there and that soon we will be able to start dreaming about the day when the bloodshed will end and all peoples will be in peace. As Yehuda Halevi would say, “My heart is in the East, and I am at the edge of the West”.

Am Israel Chai!

Ana

“No matter how many mistakes you make or how slow your progress,

you are still way ahead of everyone who isn’t trying.”

--Tony Robbins

It takes 40 days to make a habit. Someone told me this long ago. Forty days in a row. I find it to be pretty accurate.

Developing new habits is no small feat. Whether it’s exercise, reading more, eating less, more outside time, less phone time, not using the phone as much, not drinking Diet Coke so much… whatever…why is it so hard? These are behaviors that if they became habit, would be good for us.

The mental rush of conquering something difficult and

unappealing is super rewarding. Nevertheless, creating routines around these behaviors tends to be so illusive.

So why do the bad habits get to have all the fun? It’s a rhetorical question, of course.

Bad habits are easily formed because they feel good in the moment. Immediate

satisfaction is addictive so the habit is routine before we know it. I love my daily Diet

Coke. Ok, Diet Cokes. I rationalize that I don’t do drugs or drink to excess; if this is my

vice, so be it. I joke I am ok giving up a couple of years if this is the tradeoff. At the

same time, I have been dying to learn Spanish. I have taken and dropped classes, I

have signed up for online services that “never work.” I have even tried to speak to

friends who speak Spanish only in Spanish. But I can’t sustain any of it. It’s hard, the

fear of failing is great and I give up.

When I became PJC President, I was worried about having to go to Shabbat services. It

was never a stated requirement, but to me, felt important to the role. I was not a regular

on Shabbat and as such, unfamiliar with much of what goes on. I was anxious about

having to come to terms with this. I decided I would go once a month. Once every four

weeks is 25% a month, which was 25% more than I have ever gone. That would suffice.

A few days ago, Andy and I were having dinner with friends. At some point, when the

conversations had turned to smaller groups, I overheard Andy say that Lisa goes to

Saturday morning services every week. I interrupted and said no I don’t. He looked at

me and said, yes, you do.

It’s been more than 40 days and the habit has now become routine. I don’t think about it

anymore. There’s no longer a discussion in my head, it’s just what happens on

Saturdays. And it’s really good. I look forward to the routine, to learning the prayers, to

learning Torah and seeing fellow congregants I barely knew and now consider friends.

Pick something at the PJC you don’t do and try it once. Then once more. Then a few

more times. Then check in at 40 days. You might be very happily surprised.

Lisa

"And who knows, perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crisis".

Megillat Esther 4:13-15

Dear Friends,

In a year with two months of Adar, we should be multiplying our joy. Many of us may find this difficult given the rising incidence of violence against Jews both in Israel and in the diaspora. What comfort can we glean from Megillat Esther?

The Purim story takes place in a time of threat against the Jews of Persia. Led by Mordechai and Esther, the Jews of Shushan take matters into their own hands and prevail, albeit to a very bloody end.

Megillat Esther confronts readers with questions that are asked anew in each generation: What does it mean to live as a Jew? Can one be Jewish without God or religious observance? What are Jews to do in the face of hostility and the threat of genocide? The contemporaneity of these issues helps to account for the enduring popularity of the book, and Esther herself, in the Jewish community.

Mordechai, speaking to his niece Hadassah, who becomes Queen Esther, urges her to take her people's fate into her hands and approach King Achashverosh on their account. She agrees to do this mitzvah of tikkun olam, perfecting the world. Each of us has the power to affect the circumstances around us in either a small or significant way. We have to assess our strengths and weaknesses to determine where we can affect change.

For example, Ana and Neco Turkienicz demonstrate weekly for the release of the hostages captured in Gaza. Others write articles to highlight their plight. There are those who donate to worthy causes such as American Friends of Magen David Adom, The New Israel Fund, United Jewish Appeal (UJA) or Friends of the IDF. And then there are those such as Lori Weber's family who volunteer their time helping Israeli children and soldiers in any way they can. Each of us can find a way to play a part in making the world a safer place for the Jewish people.

Like the Israelites who offered their valuables and expertise to create the mishkan, each of us can offer something. We are a people whose cumulative efforts to do tikkun olam can make a difference. It is not our role to complete the task, but we must do our part.

Barbara

The Wolf Hunt

by Ayelet Gundar-Goshen

A mother suspects her teenage son of committing a terrible crime in Ayelet Gundar-Goshen's latest novel, The Wolf Hunt.

Lilach Shuster, an Israeli immigrant to Silicon Valley, discovers that her son has been bullied by a boy who dies of a drug overdose at a high school party. Could Adam Shuster, a shy precocious chemistry student, be responsible? This is the psychological dilemma posed by Gundar-Goshen, author and clinical psychologist.

Adam enrolls in a self-defense class with Uri, an alleged Mossad agent whom he idolizes. Lilach watches the boy she knew inside out slip away from her into manhood. Gundar-Goshen captures the conflicting feelings of motherhood with warmth and humor. She also explores the difficulties of leaving the tight-knit Israeli culture for a more individualistic American culture and the pitfalls that this change entails. Uri befriends Lilach's husband, Mikhael, COO of a defense-related software company, forming a life-or-death bond common among combatants of Israel's wars.

This taut, psychological thriller will keep you guessing about the motives of the characters. The explosive conclusion will catch you unawares, wondering what clues you have missed.

Barbara

Jordan Salama joined our PJC Book Group to discuss his recent work, Stranger in the Desert: A Family Story. In keeping with his theme of charting family history, Jordan asked congregants to sign his album documenting where their family came from while he signed books.

A lively discussion ensued about the places we consider "home". Persecution throughout the ages forced Jews to flee their native lands in search of another place to call home. Jordan's family comes from many places: Syria, Iraq, Argentina, Israel and the United States.

We talked about identity being divided between more than one "homeland" as increasing the richness of one's experience. Several participants added Israel to their list of places they call home, whether or not they actually had lived in Israel.

Jordan donated a copy of Stranger in the Desert to the PJC library.

Barbara

The PJC Players performed "The Band's Visit" to an appreciative audience this past Sunday afternoon. Sari Schulman, the director, chose a play with a message for our time. She notes in the program that the composer and lyricist David Yazbek says:

There's always...something eventful and violent going on in the world...There's always something going on that's based on religion or something that's of massive import form many reasons, including the rise of antisemitism in this country, which is shocking and distressing.

The Egyptian band loses its way because Egyptians can't pronounce the "P" in Petach Tikvah and arrive instead in the small, desert town of Beit HaTikvah, Israel. The interactions between the Israelis and the Egyptians provide the thrust of the play.

The PJC Players were accompanied by a local band playing Middle Eastern music. The dialogue and songs were rendered well, highlighting the humor and pathos of the script.

The Director's Note comments: Though simple and understated, there is something both timely and timeless The Band's Visit. With constant reminders of what divides us, it's easy to forget the power of that which unites us.

Barbara

In a discussion of parshat Vayechel, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks states:

Art, in Hebrew – omanut – has a semantic connection with emunah, “faith” or “faithfulness.” A true artist is faithful both to his materials and to the task, teaching us:

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.

Betzalel was tasked by God to beautify the mishkan (portable ark in the desert) The name Betzalel means, “in the shadow of God.” Art is the shadow cast by the radiance of God that suffuses all things:

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil.

And as Goethe said:



“Where there is much light, the shadow is deep.” When art lets us see the wonder of creation as God’s work and the human person as God’s image, it becomes a powerful part of the religious life, with one proviso. The Greeks believed in the holiness of beauty. Jews believe in hadrat kodesh, the beauty of holiness: not art for art’s sake but art as a disclosure of the ultimate artistry of the Creator. That is how omanut enhances emunah, how art adds wonder to faith.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

"Share a Simcha" allows congregants to share their news with our PJC community. Please submit news about family members -- engagements, births, job updates, kid achievements, community acknowledgements and any other milestones -- to the HaKol Editor, Barbara Saunders-Adams.

. Mazal Tov to Aaron Adams as he embarks on a cross country tour with his band, Ronnie Stone.

. Mazal Tov to Gloria & Sheldon Horowitz on the knighting of their son-in-law.

Share a Simcha is a regular HaKol feature, so keep your news and updates coming!

Donations to the PJC



Joel and Beth Serebransky

Sirica Wright

Sybil Rosenberg

David and Melanie Samuels

Naomi and Marshall Jaffe

Congregants of the PJC in Honor of the PJC Players

Billing statements are emailed monthly. 

Checks made out to the Pelham Jewish Center can be mailed to Pelham Jewish Center, P.O. Box 418, Montvale, NJ 07645. Credit card payment instructions are on your monthly emailed billing statement, or go to https://thepjc.shulcloud.com/payment.php. 

If you are interested in paying via appreciated securities or IRA distributions, please email Mitch Cepler.

It is the policy of the Pelham Jewish Center to make every effort to assist members experiencing financial challenges. Financial challenges should never be a barrier to being an active member of the PJC community. You can reach out to President, Lisa Neubardt, Treasurer, Mitchell Cepler or Rabbi Benjamin Resnick to speak confidentially concerning your ability to pay PJC dues and Learning Center tuition.