Dr. Chaim Saiman noted on Facebook that American Modern Orthodox schools and shuls are the last places that still associate Yom Haatzmaut / Israel with falafel. Many view falafel as the national food of Israel. However, according to Vered Guttman, falafel most likely originated in Egypt (though others claim it comes from India), where it is called ta’amiya and is made from fava beans. Jews who lived in Egypt and Syria where exposed to falafel for centuries. Falafel was made popular in Israel by Yemeni Jews in the 1950s. They brought with them the chickpea version of the dish from Yemen and introduced the concept of serving falafel balls in pita bread. Due to its popularity, falafel is sometimes called Israel’s national food. However Israel’s food scene is much more diverse than just falafel. That’s why the Israeli Ministry of Information and Diaspora Affairs has asked Israelis to explain to people abroad that Israel has plenty more to offer, and that Israelis do not eat falafel and hummus three times a day.

                Today Israel has a flourishing International culinary cuisine scene. Anyone who has been to the Machane Yehudah market in Jerusalem after dark knows that to be true.  As I learned in the Kahoot online trivia game that Rav James prepared for Yom Haatzmaut, Israel has the third most sushi restaurants per capita, only behind Tokyo and New York. Israeli citizens come from 100 countries of origin, and the food scene in Israel reflects this fact. Even the way an Israel’s national food is served speaks to the “ingathering of exiles” in Israel:  a typical falafel sandwich may be served with Israeli salad, hummus, German sauerkraut, Iraqi fried eggplant, pickled mango sauce, Yemeni hot sauce and French fries.

                In Israel grilled meats are the most popular way to celebrate Yom Haatzmaut. In a recent article in the Times of Israel, food anthropologist Prof. Nir Avieli tried to explain this phenomenon.  Avieli is a senior lecturer at the Department of Sociology and Anthropology at Ben Gurion University in Beersheba, and he is an expert on the history and politics of food.

“Meat is the ultimate expression of power and control,” says Avieli, explaining mankind’s obsession with its favorite protein. “You take a knife and slaughter a living thing. You take its life and put it into your own body. Also, there is an assumption among human beings that if you eat meat, you are taking its power into yourself. These are beliefs that have a nutritional basis as well, but it’s mostly a social issue.”

Also, Avieli notes that throughout history, eating fire-roasted meat was a rare thing, limited to the wealthy and powerful. “Roasting meat is something that rich people do. If you take a kilogram of meat and cook it in 10 liters (roughly 2.6 gallons) of water, you get dozens of portions of soup. If you roast the cut over the fire, it shrinks, loses about half of its weight, and is enough for maybe two or three people.”

                As we reflect on Israel at 71 we note with pride the country’s strengths: military and economic, but also intellectual and religious and in the realm of global social activism. Whether you celebrated Yom Haatzmaut this year with falafel or a barbecue (or both like we did at YIH), let us reflect on the success of the State of Israel after 71 years and pray for her future achievement, safety, growth and peace.

A Time to Be Silent; A Time To Speak Up

The beginning of Parshat Acharei Mot references the death of Aharon’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu. This tragic story was originally told in Parshat Shemini. There we read the response of Aharon in the aftermath of his sons’ deaths (10:3): “Vayidom Aharon” “and Aharon was silent.” In the face of personal tragedy, silence is often the most prudent and appropriate response. There are no words; no words to explain why the tragedy occurred, nor words that can adequately comfort the bereaved.

While the default response to a private tragedy is silence, this is not the case when a tragedy occurs that impacts the Jewish People. In such a case we must speak out to remember the victims, commit to not forgetting, and resolve to respond in a way that is both healing and constructive.

The shooting at the Chabad of Poway is an example of a tragedy for the Jewish People. Last Shabbat, the last day of Pesach, a gunman entered the synagogue as the congregation was preparing to recite Yizkor. He opened fire and killed Lori Gilbert Kaye, age 60. He then shot at Chabad Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein. Rabbi Goldstein stuck out his hands to block the gunman, at which point he was shot in the fingers, losing his index finger. The gunman then shot 8 year old Noya Dahan and her uncle Almog Peretz. According to Noya the gunman was aiming at the children.

Lori was murdered because she is a Jew. She died Al Kiddush Hashem. We mourn her death as a tragedy for the entire Jewish People, and we offer condolences to her husband, her daughter and the entire Chabad of Poway community. Since this was a national tragedy, the proper response is not silence but rather to speak up and speak out. First we must follow the heroic model of Rabbi Goldstein. This is what he said about the moments after the shooting, in a piece he wrote:

The ambulances had not yet arrived. We all gathered outside. I don’t remember all that I said to my community, but I do remember quoting a passage from the Passover Seder liturgy: “In every generation they rise against us to destroy us; and the Holy One, blessed be He, saves us from their hand.” And I remember shouting the words “Am Yisrael Chai! The people of Israel live!” I have said that line hundreds of times in my life. But I have never felt the truth of it more than I did then.

In the aftermath of this type of tragedy we cannot be silent. We must use our voices in at least two ways. First, we must denounce Anti-Semitism regardless of where or who it is coming from. We must also clarify that Anti-Israel and Anti-Zionist sentiment is usually poorly veiled expressions of Anti-Semitism.  Second we must use our voices to express our pride in living lives of Jewish values and Jewish observance. As Rabbi Goldstein wrote in that same piece:

From here on in I am going to be more brazen. I am going to be even more proud about walking down the street wearing my tzitzit and kippah, acknowledging God’s presence. And I’m going to use my voice until I am hoarse to urge my fellow Jews to do Jewish. To light candles before Shabbat. To put up mezuzas on their doorposts. To do acts of kindness. And to show up in synagogue — especially this coming Shabbat.

“Az: The Great and Powerful Word”

Az Yashir Moshe- in the aftermath of the splitting of the Red Sea and the ensuing drowning of the Egyptians, the Torah uses these three words to introduce the Shirat Hayam. The Midrash offers a perplexing comment on the choice of the word Az:

Amar Moshe Lifnei Hakadosh Baruch Hu: “Yodeia Ani Shechatati lefanecha b’Az …… l’kach ani meshabeichacha b’Az.”

Midrash refers back to the beginning of the Exodus story- Parshat Shemot (5:23). Moshe at that time was reluctant to represent Hashem in the process of redemption and only after Hashem promises that his efforts will be met with success does he agree to embark on the mission. However his first meeting with Pharaoh was a complete disaster: instead of things getting better for the Jews Pharaoh decrees that the slavery will intensify: no longer will the Jews be provided straw and yet their output of bricks must remain at the same level. Moshe, feeling dejected and embarrassed turns to God and says, “why have you caused evil to this nation? Why have you sent me? Umei’Az bati el Paro ledaber bishmecha, heirah l’am hazeh”- “Since I went to speak to Pharaoh in Your name, God, things have just gotten worse.”

                Fast forward to today’s Torah reading, Beshalach. Now that the Egyptian army has been decimated and the Jews are free, the Torah chooses to use the word Az once again to introduce the Shirat Hayam, indicating that Moshe wishes to atone for his usage of the word Az at the beginning of the story by using it again here. How are we to understand this Midrash, and what is the significance of the word Az?

                Rabbi Moshe Amiel, Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv in the 1930’s, explained that this Midrash is teaching us a lesson about the power of perspective: Our perspective can be a description or an aspiration. Sometimes our perspective is based on the reality as it seems. That is how Moshe used the word Az at the beginning of the story. After initially meeting Pharaoh Moshe could only see the reality as he confronted it- his meeting met with utter failure.

                The Torah comes back to the word Az to introduce the Shirat Hayam- once again spoken by Moshe but this time with a completely different meaning. Here Moshe is leading a people that is tasting its first moments of freedom. The possibilities at that moment are endless and Moshe capitalizes on the moment by using the word Az, but this time to indicate the potential of this new free nation under the direction and protection of Hashem. The usage of the word Az here indicates Moshe’s realization that man has the capacity to see the world not only as it is, but also as it can be.

                We all experience moments of inspiration and insight: Moments when we are inspired to take action. Moments when we realize change is in order. Moments when we understand that the way things have been need not be the way that things continue to be. By noting the word Az here and how it is compensating for its earlier usage, Chazal want us to understand that Moshe (and Bnai Yisrael) experienced such a moment of inspiration and insight at the Yam Suf. And so can we today as we commemorate that important and formative event in the development of the Jewish People.

Bedikah and Bitul: Acting on Our Convictions

Next Thursday night we will perform Bedikat Chametz (the search for Chametz). After we search and find the pieces of bread we will recite a declaration in which we declare that any chametz we have not found should be considered nullified and like the dust of the earth. This is called Bitul Chametz. We recite a similar paragraph on Friday morning as we burn those pieces of bread.

On Pesach, we have an obligation to remove all chametz, leaven, from our possession. Before the Rabbis created a mechanism whereby chametz can be sold to a non-Jew for the duration of Pesach, the only way to be in compliance with this mitzvah was by ridding one’s home of every trace of bread. To help facilitate the fulfillment of this commandment, the Rabbis of the Talmud offered two suggestions: Bedikat Chametz, the search for chametz that we do before Pesach (this year Sunday April 17) to ensure that all of our chametz is accounted for; and Bitul Chametz, the nullification of chametz accomplished through a declaration that relinquishes our ownership over any chametz that might still be in our possession. Today both suggestions have been formalized as requirements in our pre-Pesach preparations.

           

Tosfot ask why we need to do Bedikat Chametz, if the Talmud concludes that everyone has to nullify their chametz anyway. If we are verbally nullifying whatever chametz we don’t know about, why do we need to actively search for that chametz as well?

            A number of answers are offered. Tosfot themselves answer that we are afraid to rely on verbal nullification alone, lest some chametz be found on Pesach. Even though that bread may not technically be ours (because of our earlier nullification), we are nonetheless afraid that if found we may accidentally eat it. The Ran is concerned with the efficacy and quality of a verbal nullification from the outset. Perhaps the Bitul was done half-heartedly. Perhaps it was done with full conviction, but if that person should find chametz, s/he would have second thoughts, invalidate the nullification and be considered in violation of owning of chametz from that point forward.

           

The interplay between Bitul and Bedikah can help us understand the relationship that exists between convictions and actions. Bitul represents our convictions: in this case, our conviction is that we relinquish all ownership rights to any chametz. Though Bitul theoretically suffices, the Rabbis understood that human nature is fickle: what we are convinced of one day may be forgotten by tomorrow. We need to back up our convictions with action. We need to back up our Bitul with a Bedikah. Words are not enough. It is telling that the codified practice is to first do Bedikah and then Bitul. At times we are called to act based on the courage of our convictions. There are other times when action is needed, even if we are not so committed to the cause. Through our actions (in this case, the Bedikah) we will become more committed to our beliefs (ie the Bitul). Actions must not only back up our beliefs: our actions must stand center stage, and be the way by which we demonstrate our beliefs and transmit them to our children and the world around us.

We are proud to be participating in the Yesh Tikvah Shabbat of Infertility Awareness. The following was written by Sharona Whisler, shul board member and coordinator of the Chizuk infertility support group, hosted at our shul (for more information contact chizukmiami@yahoo.com)
~ RYW

Anyone who has struggled or is struggling through the heartbreaking experiences of infertility and/or pregnancy loss probably understands why the concept of “Infertility Awareness Shabbat” was conceived of (pun intended). It is to address this issue which is quite prevalent, but is also largely unspoken about in the Jewish community. The statistic of infertility is that it affects approximately 1 in 5 couples. This means that your neighbor, the person sitting next to you in shul, your cousin, an in-law, or a friend is struggling or has struggled, whether you were aware of it or not. I believe the reason it is not discussed in the Jewish community is because it involves a very intimate and private part of a couple’s life.  Indeed, many of those who are affected by infertility do not feel comfortable discussing it either, understandingly so. However, there are ways to discuss it, it should be discussed, and every shul that is participating in “Infertility Awareness Shabbat” should be proud.

Medically speaking, infertility is the inability to conceive after 12 months of trying during the most fertile time of the month for a woman under 35, 6 months for a woman over 35. About a third of the cases are a result of female factor issue, another third, the result of male factor issues, the final third being a combination of both male and female factors, or an unexplained or unidentified reason. This can occur for the first time as primary infertility, or after no problems conceiving a first child or a second child, as secondary infertility. Beyond the medical definition, a diagnosis of infertility is devastating. The sorrow and emotional stress it inflicts is all consuming and has been compared to someone receiving a cancer diagnosis, by mental health professionals. Knowing this and recognizing that because of the prevalence, someone close to you may be dealing with this pain, having sensitivity and understanding is the best way to be there for someone. This means thinking about what you say before you say it. Perhaps it means not complaining about how busy your child-centered schedule is with someone who doesn’t have a child or who you suspect may be struggling to conceive. That type of schedule could be what dreams are made of for someone who just found out that another month has gone by without getting pregnant or has recently miscarried. As a friend or a family member, it means being available, but also recognizing that you may not be the person chosen to be confided in. If you are, it means listening and not offering unsolicited advice or clichéd words of wisdom like “it’s just not the right time”.   

One of the purposes of this Shabbat is to provide education and raise awareness to those who aren’t personally affected. However, it is also very much for those of us who are struggling; who are mourning the loss of a dream, mourning the loss of a potential life, mourning the loss of an actual life in utero, managing conflicting emotions of hopefulness and fear, the physical pain of surgery and injections. The unending questions and thoughts; when will this work? Will this ever work? How much can I endure? Why is this happening to me? I don’t know what to do next. Who do I go to? No one understands my sorrow…This Shabbat is for you to feel supported in your pain. It is for you to know that you live in a community that recognizes this struggle. And even though there are parts of it that the community is not able to help with, in the way that the Young Israel of Hollywood community is showing those who are struggling that we are here for them, it is meaningful.

This Land Is Your Land, This Land Is My Land

I returned on Tuesday from three of my favorite, most inspirational days of the year: AIPAC Policy Conference in Washington DC. I was joined by over 18,000 pro-Israel activists, including 50 from our synagogue. The theme of this year’s conference was “Connected for Good”. In many different speeches, sessions, and presentations, we learned and were reminded of the many ways that Israel is a force for good in our world, especially for the United States.

This is a message that is especially important at this moment in history. When a member of Congress suggests that support for Israel comes at the expense of the patriotism for the US, echoing age-old anti-Semitic tropes of “dual loyalty”, we need to be strong and clear that US support for Israel is based on shared values and shared interests. America prides itself in supporting democratic values across the globe. It is therefore obvious why the US would support Israel, the only democratic country in the region. As was mentioned at the conference, there is a misunderstanding (perhaps deliberate) about the source of AIPAC’s strength. AIPAC’s strength is not “all about the Benjamins”. The widespread support in America for Israel is not a result of AIPAC’s size, or financial spending on lobbying. The strength of AIPAC is a result of American support for Israel.

Although we expect this support from the Jewish community, at the Policy Conference I had a chance to see the diversity of the pro-Israel community: liberals and conservatives, Jews and Christians, Latinos and African Americans. Though the reasons for their support for Israel were different, there was a common theme among all of their stories: they see something in Israel that is familiar, something that relates to their own experience or upbringing. I heard from a businessman from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He told a story of his visit to a Jewish community along the Gaza border, as part of an AIPAC educational trip of African American business leaders. There he heard about the anxiety and terror that families feel as they have only seconds to find shelter when a rocket is launched from Gaza. This businessman asked a mother whom he met why she chooses to remain with her family. Why doesn’t she just pick up and move to somewhere safer? She answered, simply yet poignantly, “because it’s my home.” At that moment this man from Louisiana was reminded of families who were impacted by Hurricane Katrina. When they had lost everything in the deadly floods they too were asked why they stay. And they also responded “because it’s our home.” In that moment, this man sympathized with the Israeli cause. In that moment a pro-Israel activist was born.

I also heard from Mareshia Rucker, a former college student leader who was President of the Student Democrats Club on her campus. She was part of an AIPAC educational trip that took 25 college Democratic leaders and 25 Republican campus leaders to Israel. This articulate woman told how impacted she was to see bomb shelters alongside bus shelters, so Israelis can find cover in the all too common event of rocket fire. She noticed that the bomb shelters were painted in child friendly colors and motifs. This brought home the reality that these innocent Israeli children live life “under fire”. All of them have heard rocket fire and have learned from a young age what to do to stay safe in the face of incoming fire.

And this reminded her of her own painful family story. She grew up in a tough neighborhood in Georgia, where gang violence was common. One day she went to the store and her 4-year old sister followed her. She left her sister on a bench and walked across the street to talk to some friends. In the meantime, a fight broke out near the store between a young man and a gang member. Soon shots were fired and bullets were flying. Her 4-year old sister was shot, and died in her big sister’s arms. Seeing the bomb shelters in Israel brought home to this student leader the common challenges faced by her community and this Israeli community. And when that connection was made, a pro-Israel activist was created.

Part of being a Religious Zionist is realizing that our personal stories can and must include Israel. Israel is our inheritance, our heritage, our homeland. We must seek out ways to personalize our connection to Israel, thereby becoming greater “Lovers of Zion” and more active pro-Israel activists here in America.

On March 12, 2019, United States federal prosecutors charged 50 people who were allegedly part of a scheme to influence admissions decisions at several American research universities. Wealthy parents of college applicants are accused of paying more than $25 million between 2011 and 2018 to a "college admissions counselor" who used the money to fake student test scores and bribe college officials.

The leader of the scheme, William Rick Singer, pleaded guilty and helped the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) gather incriminating evidence against co-conspirators. He said he unethically facilitated college admission for more than 750 families. Prosecutors in the District of Massachusetts have unsealed indictments and complaints against 50 people, including Singer, university coaches he bribed, and people who are alleged to have used bribery and fraud to secure admission for their children at nine universities. Among the accused parents are prominent business people and well-known actors.

There are many issues and lessons that emerge from this news story that are worthy of our consideration. One issue is the proper approach parents and children should take when considering options for college. Most of our community families invest in our children’s Jewish education through high school. It would seem obvious that we consider and explore Orthodox Jewish life on the campuses that we consider for college. A few months ago Rabbi Adam and Sara Frieberg presented an evening for high schools Juniors and Seniors about choosing a college, and the types of things we should be looking for and the questions we should be asking when we tour college campuses. I am sure that they would be willing to review those suggestions with any interested parent or student. No secular college campus Jewish life can compete with what is available at a Jewish sponsored college setting. It also makes sense that the 12+ years of Jewish education be cemented and enhanced during the college years. That is why I believe every high school graduate should seriously consider one of the Jewish-sponsored college options such as Yeshiva University, Touro or Bar Ilan etc. And if one decides that a secular campus is best for them, then they must figure out how they will continue to thrive and grow Jewishly during these important and formative college years.

Another issue that this story brings up is the lack of proper parenting displayed in this unfortunate saga. Parents want what’s best for their children. But there is a limit to the ways that a parent can/ should intervene on their child’s behalf. Although there may be some ambiguous cases, lying, cheating and breaking the law to get them a college acceptance is a clear violation of proper parenting norms. Sociologists used to talk about “helicopter parents” as parents who would “hover” over their children, schedule their days, and plan their futures. Today they talk about “snow plow parents” (yes, even in Florida). These are parents who do whatever they can to remove all the challenges and difficulties out of their child’s way. These parents mean well. They want their child to succeed. They want their child to never encounter any difficulties or failures. But in so doing, these parents are doing a tremendous disservice to their children. For an important attribute to develop throughout life, but especially in adolescence, is resilience.

Children learn resilience by recovering from failure, by enduring challenges, and by adapting in the face of adversity. At some point in their lives, our children will be on their own, and have to navigate situations without the help of their parents, snow plow variety or otherwise. Part of properly providing for our children entails providing them with resilience and the confidence necessary to overcome challenges, setbacks, even failures.

In Parshat Tzav we read about a type of rejected sacrifice, called pigul. This is a korban that is from a kosher species and was prepared correctly. However when it came time to sprinkle the blood on the Altar the Kohen got confused and had a thought that was not applicable to this korban. It was the thought that invalidates the offering. Pigul reminds us that we must have proper thoughts and intentions throughout an endeavor. Ends do not justify the means. This is a lesson we must learn ourselves, and model to the next generation.