One Year – Twice: A Message for Reflection

Posted on by Lauren Dube

One Year - Twice

A Message for Reflection

One year! I think about what I said when Rabbi Sandler told me that I better take these warnings about some flu-like virus seriously. I distinctly remember telling him that there was no way that our country was going to 'close down.' And now we sit here a year later. It's really unbelievable. Tomorrow, March 11, will mark one full year when our country and much of the world shut down. There has been tremendous loss. Many have lost loved ones who may have lived for many more years without the spread of this pandemic. Many of us have lost jobs and financial security. We have become distanced from our family, our friends, and our neighbors. Our children have lost out on their education and crucial socialization that school, afterschool programs, camp, sleepovers, birthday parties, and important Rites of Passage offer. There isn't a single soul who hasn't lost something. And it all happened over a period of time – over this last year. One year.

On Thursday, March 11, we mark one year since World Health Organization director-general, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, officially declared Covid-19 a global pandemic. As with any unfolding situation, dates and times are a bit arbitrary. The first death from Covid-19 is documented in January of 2020, but March 11 is that day that much of the world lifted its eyes and noticed. As we look back, there is little we can do to reclaim the time. Many have sought 'silver linings' extolling opportunities that have emerged for some of us which we were able to receive with appreciation. For others, silver linings weren't possible with death, unemployment, food and housing insecurity and many other realities abounding. Acknowledging the wide spectrum of experiences over this past year, our Jewish tradition is instructive when we look back at this last year of loss.

Judaism harnesses time as a tool for bringing the memories of the past into the future in order to create holiness and blessing. We do this every Friday night when we raise our Cos Kiddush (Cup of Blessing) to bless the day of Shabbat. In our prayer, we invoke both the experience of creation and redemption, marking the beginning of Shabbat and setting the tone of the next 25 hours. We gather together in a minyan (prayer quorum) and recite Kaddish for loved ones who no longer walk the earth beside us. Over time, we turn our great loss into a ritual for committing ourselves to the ideals and values of those who were a blessing in our life. In just a few weeks, we will be at our seder table experiencing the ultimate of ritualized history, a ceremony which has sustained and emboldened Jews through some of the most horrific realities that our world faces. All these harnessed moments, and many more, have offered our people the blessing of taking a world which often feels out of control and brings the world into partnership with the mission of the Jewish people – to mend and heal a broken world.

On Thursday, March 11 our world will observe a yahrzeit of sorts. It was a moment when we collectively realized that we were about to lose something precious. A year later, we now can articulate those losses for ourselves. For each of us that loss is different, and we experienced it at different moments throughout the year. We now mark March 11 to harness time. Not to regain what we have lost, that isn't possible. We mark March 11 for the purpose of recommitting ourselves to the ideals and values that belonged to whatever it is we lost. As with any yahrzeit, this moment is scheduled for deep reflection and ritual action. I would encourage us all to light a candle and take a moment to remember. What was your loss? Try not to practice comparative suffering. Your loss is yours, regardless of whether it was a person, an opportunity, a friendship, or time itself. Sit with the light and explore what life might look like if we took the blessings promised from those losses and brought them into this next year. How would our life feel blessed, experience those blessings and be a blessing? There is no right or wrong way to envision the year to come. Therefore, I offer this suggestion:

Like our Shabbat candles, two flames that stand, one reflecting on the other, consider bringing a second blessing in this coming year. If the loss that you reflect on is that of a loved one, ask yourself, what was something my dearly departed used to do that was a blessing? Did they have a hobby or a task that was meaningful to them? In this coming year, bring that blessing forward twice! Whatever it is, do it for them. If you mourn the loss of your child's (and all children's) education – volunteer to tutor at a local school this coming year. If you have lost connections with friends and friendships that were blossoming, make it a point to either rekindle or start anew two friendships this year. We might not be able to have our time and our losses back, but we can make the year-to-come double in blessings if we harness the time and bring it all forward.

שנזכה להיות צרורה בצרור החיים
May we merit to be bound up in the bonds of life!

Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

A Reflection on Last Week… Where Do We Go Now?

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A Reflection on Last Week… Where Do We Go Now?

Although it has been some time since I last stood at (now) Truist Park for the National Anthem that precedes a Braves ball game, I vividly remember my usual action/reaction. I focus on the American flag just past the outfield… and I well up with pride. Strange, perhaps, yet moments like this one evoke pride and gratitude in me. The words, "The greatest democracy in the world" invariably come to mind. After last week's desecration of one of our nation's "holiest" buildings, the US Capitol in Washington, DC, I have grave doubts. Now, as the pain resulting from what we witnessed begins to lessen, it is time to ask, "And now what?" We ought not direct that question solely to those who serve our country. The answers will only be lasting if we also direct the question to ourselves. When we do so, I think our rabbinic tradition will provide us with healing and hopeful guidance.

Here is a well-known Mishna found in Pirkay Avot 5:17:

Every argument that is [for the sake of] heaven's name, it is destined to endure. But if it is not [for the sake of] heaven's name — it is not destined to endure. What [is an example of an argument for the sake of] heaven's name? The argument of Hillel and Shammai. What [is an example of an argument not for the sake of] heaven's name? The argument of Korach and his followers.

What is the difference between the arguments of Hillel and Shammai that are worthy/for the sake of heaven and those of Korach and his followers that are not worthy/not for the sake of heaven? Rabbi Menachem Meiri's commentary in the 13th century is instructive:

In (the Hillel/Shammai) debates, one of them would render a decision and the other would argue against it, out of a desire to discover the truth, not out of cantankerousness or a wish to prevail over his fellow. An argument not for the sake of Heaven was that of Korach and his company, for they came to undermine Moses… out of envy and contentiousness and ambition for victory.

The Talmud itself reinforces Rabbi Meiri's view. Hillel and Shammai had strong disagreements… yet they respected each other, and their students even loved each other. But Korach and those who joined him in rebellion? They acted only on their own interests and rejected Moses's leadership because of their "ambition for victory."I hear our Talmudic and medieval rabbis speaking to us and our leaders today. These are among the things I hear them saying:

  1. When we turn toward the other, especially one in whom we might be tempted to recognize an enemy, we ought to strive instead to recognize the reflection of God that stands before us.
  2. In speaking with people, especially with those with whom we disagree, we should not strive to show how ridiculous we think this individual's argument is or to prevail over him/her. Instead, we ought to seek to listen and share. We ought to share our truth and listen to the other person's truth if it is different from our own.
  3. We ought to strive to foster understanding amidst disagreement and to constantly reflect respect for each other as we interact.
  4. We ought to conduct ourselves in a way when, even amidst the expression of strong disagreement, we do nothing to knowingly harm others or act in ways that will create a barrier between us now and in the future.

Finally, the mishna, in Pirkay Avot and Rabbi Meiri's reinforcement of it, set up a dichotomy between those whose words and intentions are for the sake of heaven and those whose words and intentions are otherwise. But most of us, along with our leaders, have some Hillel/Shammai in us… and some Korach. Our task and the demand we ought to make of our leaders is to give expression to the "heavenly" side. We should pay attention to the "unheavenly" qualities in us and alter them. Similarly, we must take note of these potentially harmful qualities when our leaders express them and let them know we expect, and even demand, better of them.

As we continue to confront challenging times in the life of our country, I pray that those who serve us will act to restore the confidence and pride we take in "the greatest democracy in the world." And I pray that our own actions and interactions, especially with those we share strong disagreement, will always reflect the wisdom of Hillel and Shammai, interactions that are "for the sake of heaven" and worthy of God's presence.

Shemot 5781

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Shemot 5781

The Final Hour?

There arose a new King in Egypt who did not know Joseph [Exodus 1:4].

In life, we are ultimately judged by our final hour, not our by our finest one. At the outset of his administration, President Trump promised the deal of the century that would put an end to Israeli-Palestinian hostility. The Abraham Accords deserved to be celebrated in the White House last October as a fine hour. Sadly, however, his destructive behavior following the election culminating in the siege and occupation of the halls of Congress, will long be remembered as his legacy.

Whatever fine hours were created during what has been a bitterly controversial administration will be rightfully overshadowed by the horrifying siege of the Capitol.

The Bible records that the enslavement of our ancestors in Egypt began with the new King who did not know Joseph. Given the trauma of the famine, the economic revolution that resulted in bringing great treasures to the Crown, is it really possible that Joseph would not be remembered? Thus, whether it was the existing King or a new one, we must conclude that he preferred not to remember Joseph.

The brutal enslavement of the Israelites ended with devastating defeat for the Egyptians that climaxed with the slaying of the firstborn and then the calamity at the Red Sea. Regardless of what the Pharaoh accomplished, he is ultimately judged by the enslavement that led to the final hours of Egyptian misery, devastation and defeat.

There is virtually universal condemnation of Donald Trump's calling for the gathering of thousands of his supporters in Washington for a gigantic "Stop the Steal" rally. He brazenly egged them on to march to the Capitol and then remained silent for hours as the building was besieged and then occupied. It is a blight that will forever be associated with him and will define his final hour. Also bearing blame and shame are the many who gave open or tacit support to his two-month long vendetta protesting the conspiracy that he felt had denied him re-election.

The Trump administration is effectively over, but sadly, those who enabled him to perpetrate his calumny, dismissing it as an understandable temper tantrum or defending it as his right to pursue all legal remedies, are continuing in their elected positions. Hopefully their support, whether overt or silent, will be remembered by their electorates.

The challenge before our nation is to take to heart Santayana's cogent observation that those who do not remember the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them. May these final hours of the Trump administration and the overt and silent approval of its actions be stamped on our historical memory. May all future transitions be conducted in respect, dignity and peace. Honor and respect for our democratic values and traditions demand no less.

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and blessing.

Rabbi Arnold M Goodman
Senior Rabbinic Scholar

Miketz 5781

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Miketz 5781

Two Chief Cupbearers

And the sar hamashkim (the chief cupbearer) did not remember Joseph and forgot him (Genesis 40:23).

And the sar hamashkim spoke up and said to Pharaoh, I am now reminded of my sin (the promise to call Pharaoh's attention to Joseph's unjust imprisonment) (ibid 41:10).

Two years had to pass before the sar hamashkim (SHM) recalled and remembered his promise to Joseph. He, however, is not the only SHM recorded in the Bible. Millennium after Joseph, there was Nehemiah, the SHM to the Persian emperor Artachshasta (Artaxerxes).

Historically, the SHM was not an ordinary servant. As noted in the Book of Esther, kings and emperors constantly indulged in wine, the beverage of choice. Kings, constantly concerned that they might be assassinated by poisoned wine, relied on a trusted SHM to assure their safety. Being constantly at the king's side, the chief cupbearer was thus present as Pharaoh was frustrated by the failure of his wise men and wizards to explain his famous dreams.

The SHM felt comfortable to openly confess his sin and report Joseph's capacity to interpret dreams. Pharaoh's immediate response was to have Joseph brought before him, hoping he might interpret the dream. Joseph was successful and was immediately appointed as Pharaoh's chief advisor and Egypt's Viceroy. The SHM's confession ultimately led to Joseph's rise to greatness and prosperity in Egypt.

Fast-forward several millennia to the royal Persian court in Shushan where Nehemiah served as the Emperor's SHM. It was a pleasant life until he learned that the small Jewish population in Jerusalem was in "great affliction and reproach, and the wall of Jerusalem also is broken down." (Nehemiah 1:3) This led him to come to terms with the fact that, in his comfortable and prestigious position in Persia, he had forgotten about his fellow coreligionists in Jerusalem.

A visibly depressed Nehemiah confessed to the Emperor regarding his inattentiveness to the welfare of Jerusalem's struggling Jews and the unacceptable state of the city and its walls. He then petitioned the monarch to permit him to travel to Jerusalem with authority to be its governor. For the next 12 years, Nehemiah built the walls of the city, expanded its population, and significantly reinvigorated a newly thriving Jewish community in the holy city.

Had the two cup bearers been asked to recount their most significant impact on history, the answer of the first may well have been bringing to Pharaoh's attention the Jewish lad who provided the leadership that enabled Egypt to survive and to prosper during the great famine. Joseph never forgot his ancestry, yet he never left Egypt. As per his dying request, only his bones would be taken to the Promised Land for burial in its soil.

Nehemiah's confession leads him to forego his comfortable and respected position in the Diaspora to travel to Jerusalem to rebuild its walls and strengthen its Jewish population.

Joseph and Nehemiah have their counterparts in contemporary Jewish life. The Joseph model enjoys prosperity and finds fulfillment in the American Diaspora. The Nehemiah model is deeply committed to Jerusalem. Contemporary Jewish history is an ongoing saga of the relationship between the two great Jewish communities of our day. American Jewry, to a significant extent, reflects Joseph's decision to build lives of significant fulfillment in North America. Those for whom Nehemiah is a model, find fulfillment in strengthening Israel and sharing in the shaping and revitalizing Jewish life in the Jewish state.

As a people, we are best served by embracing and celebrating both the Josephs and Nehemiahs in our day.

—

From the holy city of Jerusalem my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and blessing. 

Rabbi Arnold M Goodman 
Senior Rabbinic Scholar 

Shabbat Vayeshev Hanukkah 5781

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Shabbat Vayeshev Hanukkah 5781

The COVID-19 Hanukkah

This year we celebrate our Festival of Lights in the midst of a dreadful pandemic, and, for far too many, literally in the shadow of death. The masks, social distancing, limited gatherings and even lock downs that mitigate the ravages of this plague, are unwelcome intrusions into our lives and communities. We are heartened, however, by the imminent rollout of vaccines that will liberate us from this dreadful plague. This glimmer of light fills us with hope.

Hanukkah is a festival of hope. For seven nights, we add an additional candle, and then, on the eighth night, we rejoice in the sight of our fully illuminated Hanukkiah. It's a powerful symbol that we can, and will, successfully transition from darkness to light and from despair to salvation.

The first verse of Maoz Tzur* (Rock of Ages}, a beloved hymn of spirited affirmation of survival, is often sung immediately following the blessing and the lighting of the Hannukiah. The remaining four versus retell and celebrate deliverance from four ancient enemies: Pharaoh who enslaved our ancestors; Nebuchadnezzar, the  Babylonian tyrant, who destroyed the First Temple; Haman of the familiar Purim story; and Antiochus IV, who desecrated the Second Temple and whose severe decrees sought to destroy Jewish religious life.

This year we are still in the grips of Covid-19, the virus that has wreaked havoc upon our lives, our families, our economies, our societies. God willing, we will celebrate Hanukkah 2021, liberated from this deadly virus that, like the oppressors of the past, was ultimately overcome.  When we kindle our Hanukkah candles and chant the first verse of Maoz Tzur, may we be heartened by the faith that even the darkest of times ultimately give way to the light of the morrow.

*My Refuge, my Rock of Salvation! 'Tis pleasant to sing Your praises.
Let our house of prayer be restored. And there we will offer You our thanks.
When You will have slaughtered the barking foe.
Then we will celebrate with song and psalm the altar's dedication

My soul was sated with misery, My strength was spent with grief.
They embittered my life with hardship, When enslaved under the rule of Egypt.
But God with his mighty power Brought out His treasured people;
While Pharaoh's host and followers Sank like a stone into the deep

He brought me to His holy abode; Even there, I found no rest.
The oppressor came and exiled me, Because I served strange gods,
and drank poisonous wine.[a] Yet scarcely had I gone into exile,
When Babylon fell and Zerubbabel took charge; Within seventy years I was saved

The Agagite, (Haman) son of Hammedatha, plotted to cut down the lofty fir

But It proved a snare to him, and his insolence was silenced.
You raised the head of the Benjamite, (Mordecai);the enemy's name You blotted out.
His numerous sons and his household You hanged upon the gallows

 The Greeks gathered against me, in days of the Hasmoneans.

They broke down the walls of my towers, and defiled all the oils.
But from the last remaining flask a miracle was wrought for the Jews.[d]
Therefore the sages of the day ordained these eight for songs of praise.

From the holy city of Jerusalem, my fondest wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and blessing and a Hag Hannukah Same'ach – a spirited and joyous celebration of our Festival of eternal hope.

Rabbi Arnold M. Goodman
Senior Rabbinic Scholar 

Shabbat Vayishlach 5781

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Shabbat Vayishlach 5781

Of Deborah and Mary

Deborah, Rebecca's nurse, died and was buried under the oak below Beth El (Genesis 35:8).

Deborah's death is recorded following Jacob's settling in Beth El. The Midrash was obviously curious about the cryptic reference to this woman who is simply referred to as Rebecca's nurse. The Torah alludes to her in the verse, "So they sent off their sister Rebecca and her nurse along with Abraham's servant and his men." (Genesis 44:59) Yet she remains nameless until the time of her death. This verse, that at first glance, seems to be unimportant and irrelevant conveys an important lesson.

From the moment of Rebecca's birth, Deborah was her nurse and part of her life. When Rebecca left her parents' home, we can assume that Deborah was the surrogate mother who was always available for comfort and counsel. While not known outside of the family, she was an important member of the household.

The Help, a book made into a movie, portrays the role of African-American maids in the South, who played significant roles in the lives of the families they served. Despite the structure of Southern society during segregation, many of the "help" had significant influence upon the white children they helped raise.

This cryptic reference to Deborah, the nursemaid, may be the Torah's way of honoring women, who, while maintaining their roles as the household help, nonetheless had an impact on children during their formative early years. The honor given to Deborah affirms not only her personhood, but also that of all who fulfilled—and continue to, fulfill—similar roles.

In years past when in New York, Rae and I would spend the day visiting the graves of our parents, her sister, Mickey, and our grandparents. They are buried in various Jewish cemeteries in the New York area, and each stop was an important "memory" trip. Included in our itinerary were a few minutes at Mary's grave in a large sprawling Catholic cemetery on Long Island.

For many decades, Mary was embedded in Rae's family. She arrived from Poland in the beginning of the last century and worked for Rae's grandparents, the Goldbergs, on their farm. Following its sale, she remained with the family caring for the grandparents and then for Rae's mother who suffered from Parkinson's disease. Mary was very involved in raising Rae and her two sisters, Mickey and Mimi. Although illiterate, she learned a few prayers and taught the girls the Modeh Ani, the prayer recited upon awakening to thank a compassionate God for enabling us to begin another day. The girls always knew and loved their mother, but Mary was very much a part of their lives.*

Rae would place flowers at Mary's graveside, and we would reminisce about this woman who died without any descendants, but did have an important relationship with, and a significant impact, upon these three sisters.

I think of Mary every time I see Minoso and Shulkah. Shulkah, a widow now along in years and Minoso live in an apartment close to mine in Jerusalem. Shulkah's constant smile and bright eyes project her warm and generous spirit. Minoso, a pleasant and young Philippine woman makes it possible for Shulkah to remain in the home she shared with her husband of many years. Every afternoon, the two of them leave the apartment for their daily walk. In this regular outing that both enjoy, Shulkah sees many of her neighbors who elicit her infectious smile.

Minoso, on the other hand, entered Shulkah's life when aging and its side effects required a caregiver to enable her to live in the home she happily shared with her husband of many years. The "Minosos," male and female alike, are the contemporary Deborahs and Marys, who, for whatever the period of time, are embedded in families as nursemaids, companions, or caregivers for aged or terminally ill parents or spouses. Their presence and dedication are invariably a blessing that is often appropriately acknowledged and thanked in obituaries and eulogies.

May Mary's memory be for a blessing and may Minoso and Shulkah enjoy their daily walks together for many years to come.

From the holy city of Jerusalem my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and blessing.

Rabbi Arnold M. Goodman
Senior Rabbinic Scholar

*Mary adopted the family name and was legally Mary Goldberg. She was a "lapsed" Catholic, but when diagnosed with leukemia, she returned to her childhood faith. Prior to her death, Mary requested the money she had saved be used for a high mass and burial in a Catholic cemetery with a gravestone simply identifying her as Mary Goldberg. To this day Mary is fondly remembered for her endless care and love.

Happy Thanksgiving

Posted on by Lauren Dube

Happy Thanksgiving

To Our Ahavath Achim Family:

This is a grateful time of year. It is the time when we reflect on our lives, our families, and all the elements that have made our lives worthy of thanksgiving. Even with this past year's many challenges, I pray that we can bring forward a posture of gratitude and hope. Our Thanksgiving celebration will undoubtedly look different. For some of us, our Thanksgiving rituals – visits with friends and family, or trips away that we have done year after year – will be broken. For others, people will be missing from around our tables – friends and family who need to keep a distance or others who are painfully gone. All these realities might diminish the attitude of gratitude that is so cherished this time of year. Our American folklore about Thanksgiving might offer us some inspiration.

When I was in school, the tale told was one of a slow, cautious encounter – an indigenous people meeting a strange group of travelers from a far-away land. Two peoples foreign to one another who created a new ritual by gathering to share a meal and a moment in time to express gratitude for the newness of one another and hope for the future. In many ways, this is where we all stand today.

With our rituals broken, we have the gift of exploring and celebrating the newness of the moment. Although we long for the old rituals, and I promise that some of them will be back, can we explore what it might be like to try something new this year? We can Zoom our Thanksgiving with friends and family with whom we usually don't connect. We can add a new dish to the menu. We can add a new activity to the long day of eating and watching TV (long walk or hike is my family's tradition).

Thanksgiving this year will be like no other. We are in uncharted waters, traveling through open plains and prairies, but the newness of the moment holds the possibility of gratitude if we can be open to exploring its gifts.

Below is a link to the Community Interfaith Thanksgiving service that was held on Sunday at Christ Covenant Church. In addition to the beautiful prayers and music, Rev. James Lamkin from Northside Drive Baptist offered a wonderful message about memory, hope, and fig preserves… enjoy! (Watch the Community Interfaith Thanksgiving Service here.)

Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family,

Rabbi Laurence Rosenthal

A Note of Gratitude

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A Note of Gratitude

Dear Friends,

I want to thank those of you who offered condolences to me at the time of my father's death in October. Of course, I know what my parents, now both of blessed memory, meant to me. However, I had not realized how often I had spoken about them publicly. Many of your notes reflected "knowing" both Dad and Mom from afar. Thank you. I found those comments particularly comforting at a sad time.

Then, life continued to unfold. While I was still sitting shiva, our daughter in law, Jamie, gave birth to a beautiful (could it possibly be otherwise?!) little girl, our first grandchild.

As I reflected on these major changes in my life and on the very brief time period that separated them, I was drawn to a verse found in the Book of Ecclesiastes. What follows is a reflection I wrote shortly after Remi Amelia was born on October 23. I hope It will provide you with some worthy thoughts to consider.

In gratitude,
Neil

Toward the beginning of the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, the author states, One generation goes, another comes, but the earth remains the same forever. Throughout the book, Ecclesiastes seeks to determine the meaning of life. Here he/she seems a bit forlorn; the message apparently is, "Yes, things change, but in the end, everything just remains the same." All of us are old enough to have felt, at times, that Ecclesiastes is right. But this past week, I experienced life in a vastly different way.

One generation goes… – As all of you know, my father, Hy Sandler, died just over a week ago (on October 17). As was the case with my mother, of blessed memory, when she died over a decade ago, Dad hadn't really been "Dad" for some time. Unfortunately, dementia had taken its toll on the father I knew. But my father's death, the opportunity that shiva afforded me to sift through memories and the many reflections others shared with me ultimately, in a sense, brought "Dad" back to me. He, along with my mother, was an incredibly beautiful influence in my life, a blessing that continues its presence despite his physical demise and the end of a generation.

… another comes… – Whew! Less than a week following the death of my father, our very first grandchild came into this world! Remi Amelia Sandler was born late Friday evening (also Susan's birthday!) to our daughter in law, Jamie Freedman, and our son, Ariel. Remi "weighed in" at 6 pounds, 13 ounces (a "commandment miracle," my not too observant, yet, apparently still knowledgeable, son said), and 20.5 inches long. Susan and I are thrilled and can't wait to meet Remi in person (now there is a superfluous sentence)! Remi is the very first of her generation, the one that follows our children and my sister's children.

… but the earth remains the same forever – After the week I have experienced… I don't think so!

Noach 5781

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Noach 5781

The First Quarantine

Noah and his family stuck in the ark for one year and one week is the first recorded quarantine. I suspect that he was tired of the restrictions, but he had no option but to remain in what was a floating menagerie.

We too have tired of the pandemic. The seemingly endless quarantines, the masks, the social distancing are all burdens. We no longer want to hear the daily litany of the number of infections and deaths. We have learned to use Zoom as the medium of our contact with others, but we long to again enjoy "four eye" conversations and the joy of physical contact with family and friends. We are also understandably skeptical of claims that we are rounding the corner

God, tiring of human transgression, and of the social orders filled with violence, regrets having created Adam and Eve. Yet God is not quite ready to give up on humanity. He selects Noah, his three sons and their wives to survive the great flood in the Ark for which they were ultimately to exit and begin rebuilding the world.

The raging rains lasted for 40 days and 40 nights. It then took many months until the waters abated and the ark came to rest on Mount Ararat. Noah exits with God's charge ringing in his ears: you are to rebuild the world and create a new and moral social order. These were no small tasks, no minor challenges. For Noah and his family rebuilding the totally devastated world was undoubtedly a daunting and virtually impossible task.

It's very much what we will be facing once the pandemic is defeated. Hopefully the vaccines will be effective, and we will emerge out of our quarantines and isolation to pick up our pre-Coved lives. Children who have lost many many months of classroom education, the small business owners who have to rebuild, their employees, far too many of whom have been reduced to poverty, symbolize the daunting challenges facing us. Rebuilding economies and healing our many physical and social wounds will not be easy. It will require fortitude and patience.

Hopefully our response will not emulate Noah's. Faced with the monumental challenge of rebuilding, he plants a vineyard, makes wine, and falls into a drunken stupor. It's not an unusual response when facing a seemingly impossible challenge. We all know the feeling of being overwhelmed and the desire to find an outlet that deflects, but for a moment or longer, the task before us.

Yet the Biblical account of Noah and the flood should give us hope. It required a great deal of patience to get through that year in the ark. The story ends with Noah's family ultimately exiting and despite Noah's negligence, to begin rebuilding the world and propagating humanity. Fortunately God has resigned himself to human failings and promises to have more patience with us. We are both energized and confident by His vow never again to destroy or to endanger all of humanity, and we are here today to tell and retell this amazing story.

I have no way of knowing when we will reach our proverbial Mount Ararat, and we can emerge from the quarantines to pick up the pieces and move forward. The moral of Noah and the great flood is not to abandon hope, and when the time comes to successfully rebuild and refashion our world.

May we be blessed to soon enjoy the end of the restrictions and limitations imposed upon us by the pandemic. Let us have the fortitude and determination to emerge from this difficult and seemingly endless trial to make tomorrow a far better day.

From the holy city of Jerusalem, my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and blessing.

Rabbi Arnold M Goodman
Senior Rabbinic Scholar

Succot 5781

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Succot 5781

Making Music with What Remains

I was saddened, but not surprised, by the news of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg's death. It was obvious that she was fighting a desperate battle to stay alive until the inauguration of a new President. Alas, like all mortals, she has breathed her last. She is celebrated in death, as she was in life, for her ongoing struggle for gender equality and a fair and inclusive social order. She earned the honor of being the first Jew and first woman to lie in state at the Capitol. She clearly deserved this expression of national gratitude.

RBG, as she was affectionately called, bemoaned the divisiveness and ugliness that has infected our society. Liberals and conservatives with differing ideologies have erected a wall of separation. For RBG, however, respecting your opponent's humanity outweighed the issues in contention.

Antonin Scalia was a legal giant. Even as RBG was an icon for the left, he was an icon for the right. Each of these legal giants was committed to his/her legal philosophy. They were as often as not on the opposite side of the issues, but they were close personal friends. They were guests in each other's homes; they celebrated family holidays together; they respected each other's humanity.

RBG was a mentsch. This manifested itself not only in her long legal career as an advocate, a judge and then as Justice, but in her relationship with the many young lawyers fortunate to be her clerks. She demanded excellence but had deep affection for them as human beings. She celebrated their birthdays and apparently was a shadchanit, who helped young people find one another, to build lives together and, on occasion, was the marriage officiant.

The famed violinist Itzhak Perlman entered the concert stage supporting himself with his two crutches. He sat in his chair, picked up his violin, assured himself that all was in order and indicated to the conductor he was ready. No sooner had he begun when one of the violin strings snapped. Perlman, however, barely flinched. He continued to play with but three strings, changing, adjusting, improvising and innovating to the symphony's amazingly successful conclusion. Responding to the enthusiastic standing ovation, he simply said, "It is our task to make music with what remains."

The story, whether true or legend, is an apt metaphor for life. Perlman, a victim of polio, continued despite his physical limitations to make music all his life. Each of us during our lifetime is inevitably confronted with difficulties and frustrations. The quality of our life is determined by our ability to make music with what remains.

On a plaque on RBG's wall and woven into one of her famous collars is RBG's favorite biblical text, "Justice, justice shall you pursue" (Deuteronomy 16:20). In a real sense, this was her marching order in a lifelong journey to make America more inclusive and more just.

The fragile succah is a powerful reminder of human fragility and that of a just society. May we invite RBG's spirit into our succah and be strengthened in our resolve to help build that just, inclusive, and respectful America, to which she dedicated her life.

Her death is a great loss; the quality of our social and legal discourse is, and will continue to be, affected. Yet generations come and generations go and assuredly those who were inspired, instructed, and defended by RBG will continue to play her music with what remains.

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From the holy city of Jerusalem my best wishes for a Shabbat Shalom u'Mevorach, a Shabbat of peace and blessing and a Chag Succot Sameach, a festive and joyous celebration of Succot

Rabbi Arnold M. Goodman
Senior Rabbinic Scholar