BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA A PROCLAMATION

This year’s Presidential Proclamation for Jewish American Heritage Month is unique and noteworthy. How fortunate are we that we celebrate Shabbat every week and we celebrate our Jewish identity every single day!

~ RYW

This Jewish American Heritage Month, we honor the countless contributions of Jewish Americans throughout our Nation’s 250 glorious years of independence, and we celebrate their unwavering commitment to the values that make our country great — faith, family, and freedom.

In his letter to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island, in 1790, President George Washington beautifully said, “May the Children of the Stock of Abraham, who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other Inhabitants; while everyone shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree, and there shall be none to make him afraid.”  Since the earliest days of our Republic, Jewish Americans have helped build the cause of liberty and sustain the greatness of our Nation.  Among them was the iconic Haym Salomon, an early supporter of the war for independence.  As stories tell us, Salomon was instrumental in the success of our Continental Congress and Founding Fathers, and rallied support for freedom.  He was a zealous advocate against tyranny, and even after imprisonment by the British Crown, he continued his work in defense of freedom.  In the end, he gave everything to the success of the American Revolution.  Like so many Jewish Americans who follow in his footsteps, Salomon’s legacy stands as a testament to the unshakable belief in the American promise.  

In the same letter to the Hebrew Congregation at Newport, President Washington proclaimed that the United States “gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.”  Under my leadership, we are aggressively fighting the violence against Jewish Americans that increased under my predecessor, prosecuting hateful criminals to the fullest extent of the law, and working to end the scourge of anti-Semitism throughout our institutions, especially on college campuses.  As President, I will never stop fighting to protect our birthright of religious freedom — a sacred right that continues to guide our Nation, drawing us closer to the Almighty each and every day.

Throughout this historic year, we rejoice in the triumph of the American spirit and rededicate ourselves to the cause of liberty and justice for all.  In special honor of 250 glorious years of American independence and on the weekend of Rededicate 250 — a national jubilee of prayer, praise, and thanksgiving — Jewish Americans are encouraged to observe a national Sabbath.  From sundown on May 15 to nightfall on May 16, friends, families, and communities of all backgrounds may come together in gratitude for our great Nation.  This day will recognize the sacred Jewish tradition of setting aside time for rest, reflection, and gratitude to the Almighty. 

This month, we celebrate the contributions that Jewish Americans have made to our way of life, we honor their role in shaping the story of our Nation, and we remember that religious devotion, learning, and service to others are enduring pillars of a thriving culture.  Through every trial and triumph, the contributions of Jewish Americans have shaped our past, have strengthened our communities, and will continue to inspire American greatness for generations to come.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, DONALD J. TRUMP, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim May 2026 as Jewish American Heritage Month.  I call upon Americans to celebrate the heritage and contributions of Jewish Americans and to observe this month with appropriate programs, activities, and ceremonies.  I further call on all Americans to celebrate their faith and freedom throughout this year, during this month, and especially on Shabbat to celebrate our 250th year.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this fourth day of May, in the year of our Lord two thousand twenty-six, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and fiftieth.

DONALD J. TRUMP

Blame is Not A Game - Nor is it Divine

 The Gemara in Kiddushin attempts to understand the progression of topics in Parshat Behar. Rabbi Yosi ben Chama views all of the topics as a progression of punishments for not observing the Sabbatical year, the first topic in the Parsha. One who violates Shmittah will be punished with poverty and be forced to sell his possessions. If he does not repent he will then be forced to sell his land. Then his economic situation will deteriorate such that he feels compelled to borrow on interest. The final fall for this unrepentant sinner will be that he will be sold into slavery to a non-Jew. In describing this downward spiral, the Talmud is emphasizing that if mistakes are left uncorrected they can have a snowball effect. We believe in reward and punishment, and it seems that the Talmud is blaming this person for his worsening predicament. Oscar Wilde once said: “It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you place the blame.” Blame can feel justified and satisfying. It is a convenient way to avoid responsibility. Blaming others allows a person to maintain their innocence.  Blame can feel especially satisfying in a situation where a person did something after being advised against it. Saying “I told you so” can feel very good in the moment. But in the long run, blame is very detrimental. Renowned psychologist (and Orthodox Jew) John Gottman calls blame one of the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse”. Blame is one of four behaviors that cause the most trouble in a relationship (along with criticism, contempt and stonewalling.) When we blame others, we let ourselves off the hook. Blaming gives us an excuse not to intervene with assistance. Blaming causes us to miss opportunities to use the experience to grow or to attain new skills. In a relationship (between spouses, or parents and children) blame can create this never ending cycle. Sometimes referred to as the “blame game”, but there is nothing fun about it. Back to Kiddushin, can the Talmud really be advocating that we blame the Shemitah violator for his misfortune?  The very next statement in the Talmud quotes the sage Abaye who says, “I might have said, since this person brought the situation onto himself, ‘let us push the boulder after the one who has fallen.’ The pasuk comes to tell us that we take a different tact: the person must be redeemed from his servitude.” The Talmud first prepared us to blame the sinner for his misfortune. Yet Abaye comes and teaches us not to blame, but to pity. Do not push the boulder on top of the person who has fallen. The fact that his life has spiraled downward is more of a reason to help, not less. Instead of attributing his behavior to evil intent, let us attribute it to unfortunate circumstances. Instead of blame, we must provide compassion and understanding. We are left with conflicting messages in the Talmud: To blame or not to blame, that is the question. The answer is that we need to emulate Hashem. We ask that He be kind and compassionate and forgiving, even when we do something wrong and we should have known better. Even when God has every right to tell us “It’s your fault” or “I told you so”, even in those situations we ask Him to put blame aside and focus on helping us. We must strive to act similarly. It is important to remember that actions have consequences and that good actions are rewarded and the reverse is also true. And self-blame at times might be used in a constructive, growth-oriented manner. But when real people are enduring real difficulties, blame is not an option. Our efforts must be utilized to help the person in front of us. Abaye teaches us that if we must be blamed for something, let us be blamed for being too compassionate.

Where Our Home Values Are Reinforced by “The Street”

 Parshat Emor opens with a curious redundancy: “Emor el haKohanim… v’amarta aleihem” “Speak to the Kohanim… and say to them” (Vayikra 21:1). Why the repetitive language? Chazal derive from here that adults must ensure children uphold standards. Rav Zalman Sorotzkin points out that this lesson could have been taught without such repetition as the Torah does elsewhere. So why the repetition when it comes to these rules? Rav Sorotzkin explains that there are two forces that shape a child: the home and “the street.” Parents teach, model, and try to instill values. But as children grow, they are increasingly shaped by their peers, their social circles, the subtle (and not-so-subtle) messaging of “what everyone else is doing.” When those two forces are aligned, something powerful happens. The messages a child hears at home are reinforced outside of it. There’s no friction, no confusion, no mixed signals. But when the home and the street diverge, when parents are saying one thing and the surrounding culture is saying something contrary, then the challenge of chinuch becomes much harder. With this backdrop Rav Sorotzkin explains that when a Kohen tells his child he can’t eat treif or he must keep Shabbat, it is a message that every Jewish parent conveys to their child. And when a Kohen child is told that he can’t speak lashon Harah that too is a lesson universally applicable to all Jewish children. But when a young Kohen is told he cannot become tameh so he can’t go near a cemetery, the child might protest. He might say, “But all of my friends are playing ball by the cemetery; why can’t I go too? Why can’t I be like everyone else?” In the case of the special rules of a Kohen, the “street” is not reinforcing the message emanating from home. It may even be undermining it. In response to the challenge of mixed messages that the Torah states: Emor… v’amarta. Say it, and then say it again. When the environment doesn’t support our values, we need to double down at home. It’s an honest recognition of the challenges surrounding educating our children. This Shabbat, when the Teen Minyan joins and leads the 9 AM Minyan in the Sanctuary, we remember the great gift that exists when we have “a street” that reinforces our Jewish values. Our Teen Minyan is “the street” for those teens who regularly attend. At the YIH Teen Minyan kids are influenced by, and gravitate towards, people and ideas that are not working against our values; they are reinforcing our values. Teen Minyan is a Makom Tefilah that kids choose to be at because their friends are there and they feel comfortable there. With the guidance of Rabbi Litton, the Teen Minyan is not just a place where teens attend. It’s a place that they take responsibility: They lead the davening, they lein, and they are depended on. They decide for themselves what their experience will look like. This is not something being done to them. It’s something being created by them.How appropriate it is that we recognize the Teen Minyan on this Parshat Emor because Teen Minyan is where we are fortunate that the “street” mirrors our home values and where peer-influence reinforces parental aspirations. We live in a world where many parents feel like they are fighting an uphill battle because the messages outside the home are clashing with the messages within it. Today let us pause and recognize that our shul in general, and the Teen Minyan in particular, is a space where we don’t need Emor v’amarta because the message is already being echoed, amplified and reinforced. As a parent of 2 Teen Minyan participants, the rabbi assigned to Teen Minyan in my early years in Hollywood, and the current Senior Rabbi of YIH I am grateful for the Teen Minyan. It is a program and a space that has benefited our community for decades and it is worth continuing to nurture, support, and celebrate.

Winn Dixie: A Tribute

 Imagine the scene. It’s Friday afternoon, an hour before Shabbat. You’ve had a busy week, and Shabbat preparations are extending closer to candle lighting than you expected. You check your menu for dinner: you still need to make that salad. It should not be a problem until you realize that you forgot to buy the kosher-brand croutons. All the kosher-supervised grocery stores close 2 hours before Shabbat. Are you going to have to change your menu? Will your Shabbat guests be deprived of enjoying your favorite salad? But then you remember: Winn Dixie! Our neighborhood grocery store, right in the heart of Emerald Hills with an extensive selection of kosher products, including many varieties of kosher croutons. Once you’re going to Winn Dixie for the croutons, you quickly review what else you might need for Shabbat at this late hour.  You decide to buy one more package of glatt kosher chicken to grill for dinner and some Pas Yisrael cookies so that you’ll have some extra treats on hand for your lunch guests’ kids. We are all familiar with some version of this scenario. I have seen many of you anxiously waiting to check out at Winn Dixie (why didn’t they ever install self-checkout?)  on a Friday afternoon as shkiya approached. Years ago I had an idea to set “office hours” at Winn Dixie. It seems that some people are reluctant to “bother the Rabbi” in his office, even if they have something to discuss. Each of the YIH Rabbis have offices on the shul campus in order to be accessible and to make it as easy as possible for community members to engage with us.  My thinking was that catching up after bumping into me at Winn Dixie was a lower barrier of entry than making an appointment to meet me in my office or for coffee. This idea was conceived before Walmart delivery, Instacart, DoorDash, Amazon etc and you had to leave your house to purchase your groceries. Even now, none of these delivery options would help when it’s 30 minutes before Yom Tov and you ran out of yahrzeit candles, forgot to buy flowers, or you need Cholov Yisrael milk. That’s why I could always count on finding a minyan of people at Winn Dixie late Friday afternoons. Alas, this Erev Shabbat saving grace is no longer available to us. Our Winn Dixie has permanently closed. This week we read the double Torah portion of Acharei Mot and Kedoshim, and next week we will read Emor. The literal translation of the first words of these three Parshiyot is “After death we say they were holy”. This idiom has been utilized as a commentary on the human tendency to only appreciate something or someone after they are gone. We should be more appreciative of what we have while we still have it. Nonetheless, as Winn Dixie sits empty it is an appropriate time to reminisce and reflect on this neighborhood institution. Yes, I know that we still have Publix. But for this Emerald Hills resident, going to Publix feels like an excursion while going to Winn Dixie always felt like a quick stop. Not to mention the fact that Publix (so far) has far fewer kosher products compared to Winn Dixie. For our family, Winn Dixie was the store that our children could walk to without crossing any streets. And it was the first store to stop in after Pesach to buy our post-Pesach Entenmanns donuts.  Many of us became friendly with the employees at Winn Dixie: we knew their names and they knew the products that we liked. I enjoyed the “Shabbat Shalom” salutation I would receive, along with my receipt, from the cashier on Fridays. Word on the street is that a new, fully kosher supermarket will be taking over the space. This could potentially benefit kosher consumers in many ways. However it does mark the end of an era. At fully kosher stores we might be less likely to run into and to interact with non-Jewish or non-observant neighbors, acquaintances and strangers. At a fully kosher store parents will never have the experience of telling their child that they can’t buy something because it’s not kosher. And at a fully kosher store you can’t buy non-dairy whipped topping for your Shabbat dessert trifle - 10 minutes before Candle lighting. 

The Sounds of Sirens -The Sounds of Silence

 The practice of sounding a siren for two minutes of silence has its roots in South Africa. During World War I, a businessman in Cape Town suggested that his church observe a silent pause in memory of those who fell in battle. This custom later spread throughout the British Empire, and eventually to many different nations and cultures. The tradition was imported to pre-state Israel. The British installed air-raid sirens across the country at the outset of World War II. At first, the new State of Israel used the sirens for ceremonial purposes only sparingly: when Zionist leader Theodor Herzl’s remains were flown in from Austria in 1949, and after a 1948 massacre on a kibbutz. After the War of Independence, the Rabbinate of Israel decided to designate Memorial Day on the day before Independence Day. The newly installed national system of air-raid sirens provided a means to simultaneously alert everyone in Israel to observe the silence at the same time. In 1959, the Knesset established Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. Both have been marked by the sounding of sirens ever since. In Israel, a minute-long siren marks the beginning of Yom Hazikaron. The siren is heard all over the country and lasts for one minute, during which Israelis stop everything, including driving on highways, and stand in silence, commemorating the fallen and showing respect. People cry openly in the streets and radios play a constant stream of sad songs. Yom Hazikaron is a national day of mourning, and many restaurants and movie theaters are closed. The next morning, a two-minute siren is sounded at 11:00 am, which marks the opening of the official memorial ceremonies and private remembrance gatherings at each cemetery where soldiers are buried. As families head to military ceremonies to visit the graves of loved ones, there is a heaviness in the air. Last year, before Yom Hazikaron, Miriam Lock wrote, “Sadly, sirens are a part of life in Israel, and during times of war they become all too common. There are the ambulance sirens that mean someone is seriously ill or has been injured in an accident or, God forbid, a terrorist attack, and is being rushed to the hospital. There are the red alert sirens we have been hearing so often during this never-ending war, an eerie sound telling us to run to our shelter or safe room. People often jump at any noise that resembles the red alert siren signifying an imminent missile attack. So, after the Swords of Iron War began and missile attacks became a daily occurrence, the ambulance sirens in Israel were changed to avoid confusion.” Miriam notes that all of these different sirens can be confusing for young children. She gives the example of her grandson Yoav, four years old, who heard the Yom HaShoah siren while in kindergarten and was frightened, thinking at first that it was a missile alert siren and that he had to run to the shelter. He was comforted and assured by his teacher, and when he came home, he told his father, Miriam’s son, that he felt scared that day. These days the IDF Home Front produces videos explaining the different sirens and how they sound. A siren is poignant, because while it is loud, it also affords a moment of silence and stillness to remember and reflect. Our Yom Hazikaron- Yom Haatzmaut program will begin on Tuesday night at 6:30 PM in the Sanctuary, with the sounding of a siren. I urge you all to attend. There will be special youth programming taking place in the Tent and upstairs. Be a part of this powerful moment of communal silence; a silence of reflection, remembrance and gratitude, which will segue into an evening of celebration (music, dancing and refreshments) as we mark the gift of Medinat Yisrael on its 78^th birthday. 

Grateful To Be Here

Rabbi Yehoshu Greenwald was the Rav of Chust, Hungary, during the Holocaust. He prefaced his sefer, Chesed Yehoshua, with an essay that describes his experiences during the Holocaust. In that essay, he recalled the Drasha that he told his community during the last Pesach in Chust. He quoted the paragraph of Ha Lachma Anya, the opening section of Magid. There we declare: הָשַּׁתָּא הָכָא, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּאַרְעָא דְיִשְׂרָאֵל “Now we are here; next year in the land of Israel.” The Chuster Rav asked: What does the first clause of this sentence come to teach us? It seems extraneous and unnecessary. Of course we are here! Where else would we be? Rav Greenwald explained that the author of the Haggadah is teaching us to be grateful that we are here- wherever “here” may be. If the Jews of Chust are here celebrating Pesach even as millions of other European Jews had already been murdered or enslaved, then it means that Hashem is not done with us. We can be grateful that Hashem allowed us to be here. And we can be hopeful that just as we are here now, so too will we merit to reach the Promised Land. This year, on Pesach, there are lots of reasons to feel sad or anxious or vulnerable. However, the Seder experience is meant to overshadow these valid and reasonable feelings with feelings of purpose and hope. The fact that we are still here after all that we have endured (and by “we” I mean each of us individually, and the State of Israel, and the Jewish People) is reason to express gratitude to Hashem and to firmly believe that God still has good things in store for us. The Talmud in Shabbat (31a) quotes Rabba, who taught that after our lives are concluded, we will be asked in heaven, “Did you eagerly await the Redemption?” The Smak explains this to mean that we will be asked whether we remain committed to the notion that just as we were redeemed from Egypt, so too will we be redeemed in the future. In essence, the Talmud is saying that we will be asked whether we remain committed to the idea that if we are still here, then it means God must have a plan for us. The Tur (OC 417) writes in regard to Rosh Chodesh, that it was originally a minor holiday for everyone, but after the Chet HaEgel, it became primarily a holiday associated with Jewish women. Shemen HaTov writes that women throughout the early years of Klal Yisrael, in Egypt and at the Egel incident, were always encouraging the men to look forward to better days. Their positivity is emblematic of Rosh Chodesh, because even when it is dark out and the moon is small, we can have a positive outlook. Later in the Haggadah we read about the Rabbis’ Seder in Bnei Brak. Many commentators wonder why the Seder was convened at that location, since the rabbis were from different hometowns.  The Torah Temimah notes that Rabbi Akiva was from Bnei Brak. As we know from many Talmudic anecdotes, Rabbi Akiva stood for optimism. He was hopeful that at age 40 he could start learning Torah. He was hopeful that within the images of destruction on the Temple Mount, one could actually see the fulfillment of Divine promises of renewal. Due to the Roman persecution at that time these rabbis were despondent, so they went to Rabbi Akiva for chizuk and for a pep talk. This year, at the Seder, let us linger over the words, “Hashata Hacha”, even with all that there is to worry about. Let us be grateful that we are still here. Through that gratitude and that hope in the here and now, we will pave the way to our future of “Next year in the Land of Israel”.

Cultivating and Maintaining Our Fire

 It’s striking how often we find ourselves waiting to be inspired. We look for the right speaker, the right environment or the right moment that will lift us up and carry us forward. And when those moments come, they can be powerful and even transformative. But Parshat Tzav reminds us that if we wait for inspiration to come from the outside, we are missing something essential about how Avodat Hashem is meant to work. At the beginning of the Parsha there is a simple, but profound, command: “אש תמיד תוקד על המזבח לא תכבה” a constant fire must burn on the Mizbeiach, and it may not be extinguished. While on a literal level the Torah here is talking about the fire burning on the altar, the Sefer HaChinuch explains that this commandment alludes to the inner fire within each of us. Each of us accesses that internal fire at certain moments; a tefilah that feels more focused, a piece of Torah that lands just right, a Shabbat or Yom Tov that feels elevated. The Torah, however, is telling us that this fire is not meant to appear only occasionally. It must be constant. And for such inspiration to be constant it must be maintained. The Sefer HaChinuch adds that a person needs a balanced fire. Too little inspiration leads to apathy and disengagement. Too much passion, unregulated and ungrounded, can become unfocused and even destructive. This was the sin of Aharon’s sons Nadav and Avihu. Their failing was not a lack of passion, but an excess of it. The Parsha describes three stages as it relates to the fire on the Mizbeiach. First, the fire would burn on the Mizbeiach, then the ashes were placed beside it, and finally the ashes were carried outside the camp to a pure place. Rav Kook explains that this process is a model for how inspiration is meant to function in our lives. The fire itself represents those peak moments, the times when we feel most elevated and connected. Those moments are, by definition, fleeting. If we do nothing with them they cannot shape our identity. The Torah, therefore, introduces the next step: The ashes are gathered and preserved and then carried outward to a pure location. The question is: what do we do with moments of inspiration that are fleeting? Do we preserve something of that moment? Do we carry it with us beyond its original setting? Do we translate it into something that can shape our daily lives? The Sefas Emes develops this idea further. He notes that the Torah commands the Kohen to add wood to the fire every single morning. Even if a fire descends from Heaven, human beings are still required to contribute their own fire. There may be a spark within each of us, something God-given, but it will not sustain itself without our effort. We have to feed and nurture it. We have to actively look for ways to strengthen and renew it. Instead of asking, “Where will my next moment of inspiration come from?” the Torah challenges us to ask, “What am I doing to sustain the fire  that already burns inside me?” Lastly, the Maggid of Mezeritch, interprets “לא תכבה” not only as “do not extinguish the fire,” but as a call to extinguish the “לא”, the negativity, that can quietly creep in and dampen our spiritual energy. Maintaining a fire is not only about adding fuel; it is also about removing what gets in the way of the continued existence of that fire. Taken together these ideas offer a different model of growth. Inspiration matters, but it is not enough to wait for it. It is not even enough to experience it. We are meant to generate it, to regulate it, and to sustain it. This is how a life of Avodat Hashem is built; not merely through moments that inspire us, but through the quiet, ongoing work of tending to our fire within.