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Shabbat regulars have heard me say many times that we need to practice for freedom. For hundreds of years, the Jews were enslaved in Egypt. During that time, they learned that they could only trust themselves as all others were the potential enemy. Moses, even though he was born into an Israelite family, was raised as a price, so he was very much a stranger to the enslaved people. Even God was an entity that had all been forgotten as they toiled for generations in the hot sun under cruel leadership. So much so that God had to be introduced to the people by Moses:

(ו) לָכֵ֞ן אֱמֹ֥ר לִבְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵל֮ אֲנִ֣י יְהֹוָה֒ וְהוֹצֵאתִ֣י אֶתְכֶ֗ם מִתַּ֙חַת֙ סִבְלֹ֣ת מִצְרַ֔יִם וְהִצַּלְתִּ֥י אֶתְכֶ֖ם מֵעֲבֹדָתָ֑ם וְגָאַלְתִּ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ בִּזְר֣וֹעַ נְטוּיָ֔ה וּבִשְׁפָטִ֖ים גְּדֹלִֽים׃ (ז) וְלָקַחְתִּ֨י אֶתְכֶ֥ם לִי֙ לְעָ֔ם וְהָיִ֥יתִי לָכֶ֖ם לֵֽאלֹהִ֑ים וִֽידַעְתֶּ֗ם כִּ֣י אֲנִ֤י יְהֹוָה֙ אֱלֹ֣הֵיכֶ֔ם הַמּוֹצִ֣יא אֶתְכֶ֔ם מִתַּ֖חַת סִבְל֥וֹת מִצְרָֽיִם׃ (ח) וְהֵבֵאתִ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֤ר נָשָׂ֙אתִי֙ אֶת־יָדִ֔י לָתֵ֣ת אֹתָ֔הּ לְאַבְרָהָ֥ם לְיִצְחָ֖ק וּֽלְיַעֲקֹ֑ב וְנָתַתִּ֨י אֹתָ֥הּ לָכֶ֛ם מוֹרָשָׁ֖ה אֲנִ֥י יְהֹוָֽה׃

Exodus 6:6-8

(6) Say, therefore, to the Israelite people: “I am God. I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements. (7) And I will take you to be My people, and I will be your God. And you shall know that I am your God who freed you from the labors of the Egyptians. (8) I will bring you into the land which I swore to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and I will give it to you for a possession, I God.”

The ten plagues were the practice sessions for their ultimate freedom, to gain the trust of the people again. With each plague, the enslaved people saw a little more proof that Moses and the God that sent him were going to deliver on their promise of freedom.

Each year we also have to go through the evolution of being an enslaved person to a free Jew through the highly ritualized Passover seder. Every food on the seder plate is designed to be another practice session in how to be free. Take for example, Matza:

(ג) לֹא־תֹאכַ֤ל עָלָיו֙ חָמֵ֔ץ שִׁבְעַ֥ת יָמִ֛ים תֹּֽאכַל־עָלָ֥יו מַצּ֖וֹת לֶ֣חֶם עֹ֑נִי כִּ֣י בְחִפָּז֗וֹן יָצָ֙אתָ֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם לְמַ֣עַן תִּזְכֹּ֗ר אֶת־י֤וֹם צֵֽאתְךָ֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם כֹּ֖ל יְמֵ֥י חַיֶּֽיךָ׃

Deuteronomy 16:3

(3) You shall not eat anything leavened with it; for seven days thereafter you shall eat unleavened bread, bread of distress—for you departed from the land of Egypt hurriedly—so that you may remember the day of your departure from the land of Egypt as long as you live.

Matza is given to us as a symbol of freedom. We are to remember that this is the food we ate as we were taken out speedily from slavery to freedom to walk after the ways of God in the desert. But just as it is a reminder of our freedom, it is also a gentle push to how we must continue to pave our own way now. As we see in the Talmud:

וְאָמַר רַבִּי חָמָא בְּרַבִּי חֲנִינָא, מַאי דִּכְתִיב: ״אַחֲרֵי ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם תֵּלֵכוּ״, וְכִי אֶפְשָׁר לוֹ לְאָדָם לְהַלֵּךְ אַחַר שְׁכִינָה? וַהֲלֹא כְּבָר נֶאֱמַר ״כִּי ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ אֵשׁ אוֹכְלָה הוּא!״

Sotah 14a:3

And Rabbi Ḥama, son of Rabbi Ḥanina, says: What is the meaning of that which is written: “After the Lord your God shall you walk, and Him shall you fear, and His commandments shall you keep, and unto His voice shall you hearken, and Him shall you serve, and unto Him shall you cleave” (Deuteronomy 13:5)? But is it actually possible for a person to follow the Divine Presence? But hasn’t it already been stated: “For the Lord your God is a devouring fire, a jealous God” (Deuteronomy 4:24), and one cannot approach fire.

God took us out of Egypt to be free and to walk with God, but not so much that we are so consumed by the task of following that our essence is burned away. Freedom to be Jewish is just the start. We must also be free spirited for the betterment of Judaism. God does not need a nation of slaves–God needs a nation of freed people who will walk with, not behind, God.

As we approach Passover, think about what you can place on the seder plate that represents the growth you would like to do to be a leader, not a follower. As long as the item is not chametz, I encourage you to bring it to our communal seder and place it on our seder plates so you can discuss with your table what steps you are going to take this year to be free to be you.

Trees are something I both am in awe of and can easily not think about. I drive by hundreds of trees on my way to work and I often don’t notice them. And yet, when people visit Wilmington for the first time, I always recommend they go to Fort Fisher to see the haunting Live Oak trees that are growing almost sideways from the wind. 

Jewish tradition harkens human beings to trees in many ways. Most famously in Deuteronomy 20:19, כִּ֤י הָֽאָדָם֙ עֵ֣ץ הַשָּׂדֶ֔ה because a man is like the tree of the field. Ideologically, this verse is about not letting human affairs, specifically times of war, have an ecological impact. When we go to war to defend ourselves, we must not harm fruit trees, as it will impact the ability for humans to heal after the conflict has ended. You see in this verse the same idea of noticing and not noticing trees. I imagine when one is engaged in a war to defend themselves against an invading enemy, one is probably not thinking about the apple and persimmons trees that might be in the way. However, war is temporary, and it takes much longer to plant a new fruit tree and raise it to have edible fruit than it does to build the average house. That is why Deuteronomy harkens mankind to trees, to remind us that we are inextricably linked to our ecosystem. 

The following text is an excerpt from "Netzach Yisrael", written by Judah Loew ben Bezalel (1512-1609), the Maharal of Prague:

"This is true that the man is called "the tree of the field" (Deut. 20:19), it is just that the man is an upside-down tree. A tree, its roots are stuck in the ground below whereas, man, its roots are above, because his soul is his roots and it is in the sky. And the hands are the branches of the tree, and the legs are branches on branches, his body the major part of the tree. And why is he an upside-down tree, because a tree its root is below, because the tree, its liveliness is from the ground, and the man, his liveliness is from the sky. "

In the Maharal’s understanding of the verse, we are not only connected to trees such that we depend on them for air, food, and livelihood, but we are connected to trees in a spiritual sense–the Tree of Life. Humans and trees are simultaneously stretching our roots high and low, to the heavens and to the deepest levels of the soil, balancing each other.

This year I am especially excited to have our Young Families get their hands dirty for Tu BiShvat in a partnership with Friends School of Wilmington, NC Cooperative Extension, and Friends of the Arboretum. We will be planting seeds in Friends School’s Native Tree Nursery which will help to bring back many of the native plants, some of which are fruit trees, that have been taken down in the local area as we expand to fit more people. The initiative reflects both the Quaker and Jewish value of Stewardship of the earth–that as we continue to develop this amazing city with all the gifts it brings, stretching our roots high, we can also create the balance of stretching our roots low.

Tu BiShvat in North Carolina is the perfect time to plant a tree. This year–do just that. Dedicate a place in your yard to plant a native tree. If you do not have a yard, this Tu BiShvat, you can make a small donation to a local organization dedicated to bringing local trees back to Wilmington and the surrounding areas.

I often ask you to spread your roots high. This Tu BiShvat, let us balance that by spreading our roots low.

This sermon was delivered on Rosh Hashanah,  Day 1: Wrestling with the Yetzer Hara: Building Unity Amid Division

Within each of us, there are two competing forces—the yetzer hara, the inclination toward selfishness and destructive impulses, and the yetzer hatov, the inclination toward kindness, goodness, and moral action. The Talmud teaches us that both of these inclinations are essential to the human experience. The yetzer hara often gets a bad reputation, but it is not purely evil. It represents the raw, primal desires within us, which, when unchecked, can lead to harmful behaviors. Yet, without it, we would lack the drive to achieve, to create, or to make an impact on the world. The yetzer hatov guides us toward the right path, offering the moral compass to harness our raw desires for the greater good. 

The challenge for each of us, especially as we enter a new year on Rosh Hashanah, is to strike a balance between these forces and ensure that we are channeling our energy, passion, and ambitions for positive outcomes. 

One of the most significant ways we, as a shul community, can test our own balance between these two forces is how we will come out of this upcoming election cycle—whether we allow the yetzer hara to fuel division and animosity or whether we channel it into unity.

In 586 BCE, the First Temple was destroyed, and the Jews were exiled to Babylon. When they returned, they found the Temple as an abandoned pile of rubble. They searched the grounds, but all they found was the yetzer hara, the evil inclination, hiding in every stone and crack. Of course, the Jews were horrified to find the yetzer hara everywhere.The Jews prayed and fasted for three days, and the yetzer hara burst from the Temple like a wild beast. They captured it, but noticed that chickens stopped laying eggs. The Israelites saw that keeping the evil inclination trapped caused just as much devastation as when it was free. So, they blinded the beast and released it into the world with its powers diminished.

The wild beast in this story is metaphorical, but it is represented as a physical creature to show just how much of a physical struggle it can be to control our baser instincts.Sometimes getting control of our impulses can feel like wrestling a tiger. This story however offers insights about the nature of the yetzer hara–It is not purely evil. 

Our sages taught that the yetzer hara is essential for human creativity and drive. Without it, the world would stagnate. As Rabbi Nahman said, "If not for the evil inclination, no one would build a house, take a wife, or have children". The yetzer hara is what drives us to build, to create, and to live fully. But, like a wild beast, it must be controlled and channeled.

It should be surprising to no one that we are a month out from election day. In the political realm, the rising tide of divisiveness, anger, and frustration that seems to define so much of our discourse can only be characterized as the yetzer hara. We see the yetzer hara reflected in the growing polarization of our society. This force can lead to destruction and deepening divisions. Yet, we now know that just as the yetzer hara can divide us, it can also lead us to build and innovate. 

My questions are: 

How do we channel this primal energy constructively, 

especially in our polarizing times?

And, what are the stakes for us here at Bnai Israel if we don’t? 

We are a truly purple congregation, and this is not my first purple pulpit. Bnai Israel and my former pulpit, Temple Sholom, are models of how to navigate being in community and relationship with those with whom you fundamentally disagree. 

In our congregation, we have best friends, we have loving partners, who couldn’t sit further from the other’s aisle politically. 

Yet–they sit next to each other at services, they raise families together, they engage in strongly worded debates and then a few minutes later go grab some lunch together. We understand that our unity is rooted in something deeper than politics—it’s our shared values and commitment to each other as a community.

A great example of how our congregation navigates differences was at our Tisha B’Av Service. We came together to watch Screams Before Silence, a documentary that highlights the horrific large-scale sexual acts of terror committed on October 7th. The film brought up intense emotions, and in the discussion that followed, it was clear that there was more diversity of opinion in the room than there was commonality—apart from the shared goal of bearing witness to these atrocities. 

People expressed deeply held and often opposing views on the situation in Israel and Palestine, on Netanyahu and Hamas, and on the role of global leaders like Biden. In that room, we had a microcosm of the political landscape. And yet, despite these strong opinions, what was most remarkable was how we handled our differences. 

People did not hold back on their thoughts, but no one attacked another person’s character. We disagreed patiently, passionately, and respectfully. There was no name-calling, no belittling, only thoughtful, deeply felt opinions. We all understood 

that our views were shaped by our individual experiences and long-held beliefs, and rather than writing each other off, we found a way to move forward together. 

This is the kind of community we are—a congregation that values unity over uniformity, where diversity of thought doesn’t divide us but makes us stronger.

Our congregation is a beautiful shade of purple, and because of that, we do creative things together. We embrace different ways of thinking from Hebrew School to Adult Education, and the conversations are always vibrant and interesting. We embrace the different subcultures within our synagogue– ideas that come in from legacy families, to those who moved here decades ago to a few months ago, to young families li

ke mine who moved down to Wilmington for new work opportunities. While many congregations are made up of many subcultures, what has impressed me the most is the concern that we have for making sure that we reach out, as best we can, so that each subculture feels connected and represented.

So what is at stake for Bnai Israel, then, this coming election cycle? 

Losing the bonds we have worked so hard to build up. It takes so much longer to rebuild than it does to destroy.
Avot de-Rabbi Natan 16, a commentary on Pirkei Avot, warns, "Jealousy, lust, and honor remove a person from the world." 

These are expressions of the yetzer hara that can destroy relationships and societies. 

In recent years, we have seen both Democrats and Republicans engage in this kind of yetzer hara-fueled behavior. 

In the aftermath of the 2016 and 2020 elections, many buzzwords were circulating in our country: Disappointment, Betrayal, Anger. 

Many rejected dialogue with anyone who supported the other side. We have seen in this election cycle, outside the walls of this holy congregation, that nothing has changed. There is still a deep sense of mistrust on both sides of the aisle surrounding the caliber of those running for office and the fairness and safety surrounding elections and their results, and early voting has barely started.

But we know the yetzer hara is not inherently evil. It is simply energy—passion, desire, and drive. 

So, how can we use that energy to build and unite?

Elizabeth Gilbert, in her book Big Magic: Creative Living

Beyond Fear, reminds us that fear, imperfection, and uncertainty are all essential parts of the creative process. She writes, “You must forever relinquish your fantasies of perfection… because nothing is ever finished, nothing is ever perfect.” Her words reflect the nature of the yetzer hara: without embracing imperfection and struggle, we would never take risks, create, or grow. Just as the yetzer hara fuels our drive to build and innovate, so too does embracing fear and uncertainty allow us to move forward, both personally and collectively.

Elections, in particular, are amazing ways to channel the yetzer hara into something positive. Voting, campaigning, and civic engagement are all forms of creative energy—ways in which we take our desires and passions and turn them into actions that shape the future. Just as the yetzer hara drives us to build homes and create families, it can also drive us to participate in and support the democratic process.

Take, for instance, one of our fabulous teens here at Bnai Israel, Edie Zeldin. Last year as a Meyer-Gottesman Kol Koleinu Feminist Teen Fellow, she worked on a capstone project to help get out the vote. Neither Edie nor her teen counterpart are yet old enough to vote, and yet they felt called as teens to host postcard writing parties at their synagogues to encourage those who were eligible to vote to make the effort to do so. In her nonpartisan postcard campaign here, she encouraged not yet registered or undecided voters to make a plan to vote, and to make sure that when they vote, they have the youth of this country in mind. At our small but mighty postcard party, there were people of different political persuasions. 

We see from this that elections are not just competitions for power; they are opportunities for creative expression. They allow even our teens to rise up as leaders.

But we must also remember the dangers of allowing the yetzer hara to dominate us. Toxic political division can lead to the same kind of destruction that the Jews found when they returned

to the broken Temple. If we continue to let our political differences tear us apart, we risk finding our own country in ruins—but we know the breakdown of a country starts smaller. It starts behind closed doors in family conversations gone wrong. It starts with nasty exchanges with acquaintances on each other’s facebook walls when they post something we don’t agree with. 

It starts with giving up on each other in this congregation because we can’t love the person behind the political opinion.

A stronger, more creative, more passionate, more diverse Bnai Israel in every way imaginable will be a huge step towards healing our country, regardless of what color North Carolina turns on November 5th.

If you are finding yourself filled with creative energy about this upcoming election, consider volunteering as a poll worker. We at Bnai Israel Congregation are proud to be part of a massive, nonpartisan initiative across the Jewish communities nationally to recruit poll workers for the upcoming election to help ensure a free, fair, safe, and accessible election for all voters. 

Just as you can vote your voice, you can volunteer your voice. We at Bnai Israel are always looking for new ideas, new perspectives, from all of you, from our teens to our seniors. Be like Edie Zeldin this year–share your ideas with me and we will turn that idea into something concrete. 

This election isn’t just about politics; it’s about who we choose to be as a community. I challenge each of you not only to vote but to engage in meaningful conversations. Volunteer as a poll worker, initiate civil dialogue, or share your ideas with synagogue leadership. We must be a community that chooses unity over division and action over passivity. Let your voice be heard in a way that brings us closer together.

As we enter this new year, let us embrace the yetzer hara—

the creativity, passion, and energy within us—that drives us to engage with the world, even when it feels divided. Our differences, when approached with respect, can become sources of strength rather than division. As we step into this new year, we carry the potential to heal—not just ourselves, but our congregation and the wider community. Through small, individual acts of kindness, creativity, and responsibility, we can rebuild what feels broken, creating a world where our differences become opportunities for growth and unity.

Let this Rosh Hashanah be a time to reflect 

on how we can harness our instincts for good and contribute to the repair of our country, while ensuring we remain united here at Bnai Israel. May we all pledge to protect this congregation and use it as a model for how our country could be.

Shana Tova U’Metuka—may this new year be one of renewal for us all, and may we build a world where our differences inspire growth and collaboration.

The countdown clock to Rosh Hashanah has been ticking away. You have received registration information for the High Holidays and in a few weeks you will receive your seats. Hebrew School registration is well under way and teachers are gearing up for another fabulous year. It seems we are really underway to begin the year.

I heard recently that people conceptualize time in different ways. For some people, it is a straight line from January to December. Others imagine the year in three month increments, like a staircase, climbing down from January to December. I think of the calendar as intersecting circles with no one clear start to the year. Is it January when the secular year restarts? I think of January as solidly in the middle of the programmatic year. Is it Nisan when the Hebrew months restart and we celebrate Passover? I think of Passover as one of the final large programs we have before we start to calm down for the summer. Is it Rosh HaShanah with the changeover of the Jewish New Year? Yes and no. It is much like January where the year changes, but it still feels like we are in the middle of something. The High Holiday season starts with Rosh HaShanah, but it also flows naturally from the summer 3 weeks of mourning and 7 weeks of consolation. In that way, it is more of a culmination than a new beginning.

The truth is, we begin again in Rosh HaShanah, but we can begin again at any time during the year. The rabbis teach that the gates of tears, of honest and soulful prayer, are never locked from us. Rosh HaShanah, however, provides us a gift. The gift of being solidly marked on our calendar in a world where getting on each other's calendar feels like an Olympic sport. Every year on the 1st day of Tishrei, the 7th month of the Jewish calendar, we take the time to actively work towards beginning again. We actively work towards the culmination of all we have worked towards this year, to see if our path is serving us or working against us.

In the weeks ahead, I will continue to push and guide us as a congregation to do the inner work that is required this time of the year. I also want to hold space for the fact that this has been a difficult year for the Jewish people, and for many of you personally. As we think about beginning again, make sure it is a gentle return to yourself. Rosh HaShanah is just one of the interlocking circles in which we get to begin again. 

So do both. Don’t let Rosh HaShanah go by without at least trying to begin again. But, if you find yourself needing a spiritual reset in November, January, or April, remember you can also begin there as well. Every other day of the year, when we are fully committed to it, as long as we have breath in our lungs, is another opportunity.

Time, by Lanre Madiba 

Tick-tock-tick-tock 

Time speaks loudly when it's at its slowest. 

Time–like ocean waves break onshore, 

It erases my every footprint as I move into the future 

Leaving no traces back to the past where I took my first step. 

Time plays tricks with us 

Time always wins.

We are a few portions into the book of Bamidbar, or as I like to call it, the book of the Jewish Hypothesis. Back in Exodus, having been freed from slavery, the Jews make their way to Sinai to receive revelation. And, there they stay for the rest of the book of Exodus AND Leviticus as they receive law after law. These laws range from how the High Priest should atone for the entire Jewish people on Yom Kippur, to more intimate laws between two people. In the book of Bamidbar, they take a census of everything they have, get up, and go.

So why the Jewish Hypothesis? For one thing, they don’t just immediately get up and walk the two weeks to the Holy Land and settle. They meander for 40 years. The reason they meander is that they can’t seem to get it right. They have laws in front of them which seem to be unambiguous, but when the laws are interpreted by the individual, the shades of gray are exposed.

Both God and the Jews need this time of the Jewish Hypothesis to get it right. But in truth, I do not think the experiment ended when the Jews finally settled down in the land in the Books of Prophets and Writings. I think the experiment is ongoing. As we change and grow, so too does our relationship to God and God’s laws. In essence, God evolves and Judaism evolves along with us in relationship together.

I see this reflected as well in the country we all call home, the USA. As we approach July 4th, we are reminded of the American Hypothesis. On July 4th, 1776, the Colonies severed all political ties from Great Britain, declaring themselves independent. America is only 248 years old. To put that into perspective, the oldest recognized country is Egypt, dating back to 3150 BCE, at 5174 years young. Just a bat mitzvah’s worth of years following the Declaration of Independence, the USA ratified the Constitution. As one can see by just turning on the TV, scrolling Facebook, or casually talking to someone over kiddush, most Americans have strong opinions about what the Founding Fathers must have meant when they wrote the Constitution. 

Just like with the Torah, I am sure that they did, in fact, have concrete ideas about what they meant when they wrote the laws that govern our nation. However, the American Hypothesis, like the Jewish Hypothesis, is tested with each and every generation. As we evolve as a country and as humans, it is the job of our nation’s leaders to see how America can grow along with its people.

We have heard time and again how this will be a rather historic election cycle. Others have said it will be as nasty as it will be historic as our people become more politicized and siloed. To that end, this year I have applied to be a poll chaplain. I will begin training for that role in July and will hopefully be chosen as a clergy member to keep peace at our polls this November. This non-partisan role is meant to act as a balm on election day, to help people find peace and to keep peace during what is anticipated to be a challenging day. I look forward to sharing more news about non-partisan ways we as a congregation can contribute to making this a peaceful election cycle for all voters on both sides of the aisle.

With each passing High Holiday cycle, we grow as a Jewish people. With each election day, we grow as Americans. May we contribute all we can to both the Jewish and American Hypotheses. Both are deserving of all of our love and best efforts.

God Bless America, Happy Fourth of July!
And, as always, Am Yisrael Chai!

Rabbi Bender

"From the narrow place I called out to God who answered me in the great expanse."

We find ourselves in the middle of Passover, halfway to freedom from slavery, halfway to redemption from the narrow place to the great expanse.

All of us are in need of Passover, to help us reach our greatest openness when we are closed off. We continue to pray for our truest freedom to be realized—freedom from Anti Semitism, as well as freedom from oppression just for being Jewish that is experienced worldwide. We pray for peace in our Holy Land, and that all those who pursue peace will experience lasting peace speedily.

"Min Hameitzer karati Yah, va'anani ba'merchavya--From the narrow place I called out to God who answered me in the great expanse. Please God, before the last days of Passover, when we remember the Jews who crossed through the sea on dry land to freedom, may there truly be peace on Earth".

"Min Hameitzar" by Deborah Sacks Mintz with the Hadar Ensemble

B'shalom, 

Rabbi Chaya Bender

Outshine Darkness With Light

I am still buzzing from the excitement that the Sisterhood Art Show brought to Bnai Israel once again. A hearty mazel tov to Alane Savod and all of Sisterhood, including the many sponsors, donors, and volunteers. Every detail was perfect!

Since this has become an annual tradition, I have come to be much more familiar with the movers and shakers of the local art scene. I have come to notice the changes in style that an artist makes from year to year as they continue to expand their voice and breadth of work. This year, I was particularly moved and impressed by how many people outside of our synagogue have come to know about, love, and look forward to the show.

I have the privilege of seeing the show for almost a week between setup and take down. During this time, I become very attached to the pieces and tend to associate different works of art with different congregants based on what I know about your interests and personal style. Like a Purim costume, I think about how a piece of art might highlight or unmask something about you. I am proud to say that some of you even picked out pieces I had thought of for you!

According to the Talmud, the Exile of the Jews was compared to night and the story of Purim was compared to day. The Exile of our people is represented by night, the great unknown. Since the Jewish people were exiled from the Holy Land until today, we do not know when our people will no longer be subjected to cruelty from those who would seek our oppression and destruction. Purim is the light, when all darkness in our lives will be outshined and banished, and the inner beauty will be brought to light. 

Every Purim, we get another chance to outshine darkness with light. We can do that through the four mitzvot of Purim, all of which you can do through the synagogue: Mishloach Manot, hearing megillah, having a meal, and giving gifts to the needy. You can outshine the darkness with brilliant light through dressing up: Releasing your hidden beauty at our masquerade shabbat service and showing your hidden whimsy with a Purim costume on Purim day.

I will also celebrate Purim a little early this year by hanging up my new art from the art show, a gorgeous piece by Barton Hatcher that reminds us of the promise of spring. When we look at that piece all year long, we will be reminded that even during the darkest and coldest months, spring and light is just around the corner. Purim, too, reminds us that spring, that Passover, the rebirth of spring and holiday of our freedom, is close by.

An Early Freilichen Purim to All! Let’s again do our best to combat any darkness that might exist in this world with brilliant, focused light.

B’Shalom,

Rabbi Chaya Bender

Many of us just celebrated one of the most anticipated Jewish holidays last week–Yom Chinese Food and Movies. It is the perfect combination of good food and family time without the heavy work of repentance or cleaning a house top to bottom to make it hametz free. The tradition to eat Chinese food on Christmas has a fascinating history and is over 100 years old. Read more here: https://forward.com/culture/437007/why-do-jews-eat-chinese-food-on-christmas/

Yom Chinese Food and Movies is a stark contrast to a much older Jewish celebration on Christmas Eve, know as Nittel Nacht: 

https://jewishjournal.com/judaism/213258/

In summary, for centuries, Ashkenazi Jews forbade the study of Torah on Christmas Eve–stemming from very real fears of living in lands unfriendly to Jews. The only other night of the year that Torah study is forbidden is Tisha B’Av. Nittel Nacht is a non-holiday of isolationism. Yom Chinese Food and Movies is a celebration of relationship and integration.

What I love about the Chinese food tradition is how playful it is. Many articles, like this below, play with the idea of eating Chinese food in the same legalistic manner in which all Jewish laws are derived:

https://jewishlink.news/halachic-guide-to-chinese-food-on-12-25-everything-you-need-to-know-for-this-shabbat/

The basis behind humorous articles like this one is that it shows the intricate ways the Jewish people have become integrated into the greater narrative. How over the last 100 years we have integrated into a society and thrived while maintaining our unique characteristics. How we can be both proudly interfaith friendly and proudly Jewish. 

The culmination of the last 100 years has not only brought us delicious traditions, but it has brought us Amy DeLoach. Her family has been here for the last 100 years in Wilmington, and her journey to presidency very much mirrors the above transition from the isolationism of the last century to full inclusion. 

Amy’s presidency at its core was one about honoring the legacy and rich history of our synagogue while gently giving it a tune up. She first started with our cemetery. Our cemetery has been given a much needed makeover in two ways–it has been beautified, as well as been opened up ritually to include our interfaith families in the new Memorial Park. Our Jewish members with interfaith families now have the option to be interred next to each other, which would not have been thinkable 100 years ago in a Jewish cemetery. 

It was fate that during her presidency we celebrated two major milestones–the Celebration-Installation-Dedication weekend and our 125th Anniversary weekend. Both had similar themes of being grateful for all of the blood, sweat, and tears that went in to help us reach this point while also recognizing that the wonderful things we have now are a natural continuation of the past. 

Finally, in Amy we had the gift of having a president with a beautiful interfaith family. Thank you to First Gentleman Mark DeLoach for lending us your wife for more hours in the day than you probably saw her! When families were looking for a welcoming synagogue, especially those from Conservative backgrounds who had been turned away in the past, got on the phone with Amy, they would know they would be family here. In Amy, we had a president who was deeply integrated into all that Wilmington had to offer, and everyone in town knows she is fiercely proud to be Jewish. She lives by example that you can be both proudly interfaith and proudly Jewish. Thanks to Amy, generations of congregants with interfaith families won’t have to make impossible choices–to affiliate with a synagogue or not, to be buried together or not. As the Open Doors Project has shown us time and time again, being more inclusive only can serve to make a warmer and more vibrant synagogue for all. 

Amy, thank you for everything. It has truly been a pleasure to walk alongside you and make this synagogue a home for all. At the same time, I am excited for what the future will bring, knowing we will be in excellent hands with Pam Sender.

May it be another year of continuing our legacy of growing into our greatest potential, L’Dor Va’Dor. And hey, it wouldn’t hurt to order some New Year's Eve Chinese Food as well.

Happy 2024, Y’all! 

Rabbi Chaya Bender

מֵחֲמַ֛ס אָחִ֥יךָ יַעֲקֹ֖ב תְּכַסְּךָ֣ בוּשָׁ֑ה וְנִכְרַ֖תָּ לְעוֹלָֽם׃

For the violence to your brother Jacob,

Disgrace shall engulf you,

And you shall perish forever.

(Ovadiah 1-10)

The above verse is from the book of Ovadiah and uses the word "Hamas" in context to highlight the violent actions of the nation of Edom to destroy Israel. Hamas in Hebrew means violence. The kind of violence so terrible that God dares not mention it in full and rather encapsulates it into one word.
 

Hamas in Hebrew means violence. The kind of violence so terrible that God dares not mention it in full and rather encapsulates it into one word.

Hamas is a terrorist organization with one goal–to see the Jewish people eradicated. They are transparent about their mission and have written and published their mission for all to see. What is happening now in Israel is atrocious and the work of people bent on doing evil, to the people of Israel as well as the people of Gaza. 

Like many of you, I have been endlessly scrolling through my phone and the news to see what is happening. But this is even more personal. I have seen Emily’s cousin sending four of her children off to fight. I have read about my Israeli friend in America praying for her loved ones in Israel to be returned home after being taken hostage by Hamas into the tunnels in Gaza. I have read about my friend who, after hearing bombs and sirens, dropped her baby on the ground in order to run to lock the door of the shelter so that her two children might not be among the statistics of kidnapped or murdered children.

This is personal. This is our family.

Our people have seen the most Jewish lives brutally murdered since the Holocaust ended. At the time of writing this, and I hope something changes by the time you read it, there is no clear end in sight.

We might feel helpless, but there are some things we can do:

1. Stay Informed: Follow the news and take it all with a grain of salt with the understanding that truly unbiased reporting is hard to find. If you haven’t already, try following The Times of Israel.
2. Show up for Israel: Within your capacity show up for Shabbat, vigils, events, online briefings, Israel Dance Club, whatever you can to show that we will not hide or back down in the face of terror. 
3. Spread Awareness: I realize that online campaigns sometimes seem silly, but we need to show the real face of Israel to the world. Thank God, many countries around the world are lighting up Blue and White for Israel. At the same time, yesterday that was a large orchestrated show of support of anti-Israel sentiment, especially on college campuses. People are not taking the time to see the ‘’incredibly delicate nuances of the situation, to read the situation kindly, or are celebrating the atrocities happening to innocent Israeli citizens, to read it more bluntly. Post pictures. Share stories from Israel of the bereaved or those anxiously waiting for news of their kidnapped loved one. Use these real human stories to help change even one heart.
4. Donate: The Rabbinical Assembly posted this JFN's List of Trusted Agencies and Nonprofits. On it are many vetted organizations who will send funds to where they need to be in Israel.
5. Volunteer: Israelis are asking for different kinds of support, even from afar. Yesterday I came upon this form to Volunteer to offer mental health support to Israelis in need. If that applies to your skill set, you can register there.
6. Pray: Prayer for the Simchat Torah War, Prayer for Israel in this Time of War.
7. Take Care of Yourself: Drink water. Eat food that fuels your body. Rest. We can be the best support from afar if we take care of our bodies first.
8. Reach Out: My office is always open. I love you and we will go through this together.

May we see the day when war and bloodshed cease and humanity will never again know war. I pray that the war in Israel ends as swiftly and peacefully as possible, that the hostages are released, that soldiers can return to their homes, and that Hamas is eradicated so that both Israelis and the citizens of Gaza do not have to live under a shadow of terror.

I pray for Shalom,

Rabbi Bender

125 Years of Bnai Israel: Past, Present, and Future

It's beginning to look a lot like the High Holidays are here! All Holiday information has been sent out, including seat registration, and RSVPs for all Holiday related events. Please look over everything thoroughly, as you are not going to want to miss out on the myriad of ways to celebrate the holidays together, both in and out of the synagogue building.

Hebrew School is about to kick off on September 10th and if last Sunday's Tot event was any indication, both our learners and our parents are excited to begin the new year. For more information about High Holidays or Hebrew School visit the website or call the office.

On Kol Nidre this year, I will be reflecting on our 125 year history, our vibrant present, and thinking forward to the future. But I need your help! I would love for members to share their personal stories with me. I will be sharing some of your reflections as part of my sermon. You can submit stories anonymously if you feel more comfortable sharing that way. Please help me by sharing your memories, present points of connect, as well as your hopes for the future here: https://forms.gle/QS51My3qMxU6Xo479

As for me, my earliest memory of Bnai Israel is my first 15-minute call with the search committee and just having a gut feeling that "this is it." My present favorite point of connection is seeing the way my daughter feels so safe and at home in the synagogue and thinks of every person at Kiddush as her best friend. My hope is that everyone feels that safe and connected here, that everyone is a friend or a potential friend.

May this be a year where we all seek together. May we seek to honor the past and the many people that enabled us to be here, sometimes against all odds. May we seek out ways to continue to grow in the here and now. Finally, may we seek to never be closed off from something new—to be surprised by what might happen if we may only be open to the possibility. 

L'shana Tova U'metuka, A Sweet New Year filled with the unlimited potential of you,

Rabbi Chaya Bender

"Seek"
by Cathy Cohen

When young, I couldn’t reach you
through language.

I felt distant
from your prayer book names
steeped in punishment,
in law and judgment.

Instead, I sought you
in the quiet of the sanctuary,
in chanting,
in families shoulder to shoulder.

I sought you in vowels,
in silent pause between words,
in breath.

Eheyeh asher eheyeh
shimmers
with the possible.

Eheyeh asher eheyeh
surround
of openness, forgiveness.

Here
a sense of your essence.

To Remind You of What You Already Know

Has anyone ever found a note that you wrote to yourself but you have no earthly idea what you were trying to remember? It’s not an uncommon phenomenon to forget information that you would rather have at the front of your brain. 

Earlier in June, the Torah portion hints at this problem, and the rabbinic tradition suggests a remarkable reason for such frustrating lapses of memory. In our portion, Moses “told the people of Israel that they should keep the Passover.” Nothing surprising here, Moses often tells the Jewish people what they should or should not be doing.

But in the book of Leviticus, just one book ago and not very long ago in Biblical real time, Moses taught us all about Passover. So why does he have to repeat himself now?

Because he knows just how forgetful people can be. Recognizing that even the most intelligent, learned, and scholarly people forget much of what they learn, Moses knew that the Jews would have to be reminded of the appropriate mitzvot just before the time of their observance—and the people in the book of Number now are gearing up to celebrate the holiday of Passover in real time. 

Keen student of the human heart that he was, Moses knew that learning is ever renewed, or it is lost. Learning is not a possession, something to have. It is a process of growth and ingestion that is a permanent accompaniment to human life. 

Midrash Kohelet Rabbah understood that point, insisting that, “It is for our own good that we learn Torah and forget it; because if we studied Torah and never forgot it, the people would struggle with learning it for two or three years, resume ordinary work, and never pay further attention to it. But since we study Torah and forget it, we don’t abandon its study.”

In other words, forgetting is a point of connection. When we forget we have the chance to remember and forge newer connections. 

At the semi annual meeting we tried to be like Moses—to remind you of what you already know. That we are a growing and vibrant congregation. That we serve congregants ages 0-99 (with a few God willing turning 100 this year). We have so much going on, and sometimes too much going on, that you might not even know it’s happening or in the busyness of your own life you forgot. 

We reminded the congregation of who we are and what we stand for. Our hope is to spark new points of interest, connection, or reconnection for you. 

The Mishnah teaches us that Jews in study together experience the presence of God. So let us continue to learn together as well as commit to a new holy point of connection between now and our next meeting.

B'Shalom, 

Rabbi Chaya Bender 

75 years. It’s hard to believe that our timeless Holy Land can be so young in the eyes of modernity. This past weekend, we celebrated the miracle, the blessing, the homeland, and the ongoing project of Israel. Thank you to TOI, UJA, Wilmington Jewish Film Festival, and PJ Library for dreaming and planning along together as a team. Approximately 200 people from across Jewish Wilmington united together to celebrate our pride in Israel. 

After the Yom Haatzmaut event, the WJFF kicked off with a haunting film about righteous (and unrighteous) gentiles who hid a man during the Holocaust. The festival is ongoing but Yasher Koach to Debbie Smith, her executive committee, and the many volunteers who make the festival a success. 

It is impossible to not link one historical event to the other; that is the Holocaust to the founding of the modern State of Israel. By experiencing both poles on Sunday, it solidified for me the importance of community and celebrating when we can. 

We are linked to all that came before us and all who will come after. We remember and mourn for those who have passed, as well as celebrate for those who can no longer. We bridge our fears with our joys so that our joys will always carry us through when times are hard. 

Below is a prayer that captures the complicated ways we remember and celebrate—that our very existence is a miracle and something won by our own hands. 

May we continue to come together as a greater Jewish Wilmington community and family for these milestone celebrations and always. 

May there soon be peace in our Holy Land and worldwide. 

Prayer for Israel between Demise and Rebirth

by Rabbi Daniel Raphael Silverstein

May we remember that our faces are mirrors of each other, our fears are mirrors of each other’s, our hopes are mirrors of each other’s, and all of our children will inherit everything we are.

May we remember our shared past, our shared ancestors, our shared heritage, our shared grief at the destruction of our home twice before, our shared journeys through millennia of exile, our shared pride in who we are and all that we have achieved, wherever we found ourselves, and now here.

May we remember that our being here is something no human can explain or understand.

May we remember that we are responsible to those who came before us and those who come after us.

May we remember that it is very, very easy to destroy, but infinitely harder to build.

May we remember that there is no future for any of us without all of us.

B'Shalom

Rabbi Chaya Bender

It's Spring Y'all

A couple of weeks ago it was a chilly, overcast, rainy, 70 degree day. I only had eyes for the weather being a high of 70. I declared it spring!

Emily, Shlomi, and I were getting ready to go to Pender Pines Garden Center, so I got dressed in hopeful springtime clothes. Emily and Shlomi were in more reasonable and weather appropriate long pants and jackets, but I was in shorts and a t-shirt. When Emily asked me what was wrong with me, my only answer was, “I declare that it’s spring!”

At Pender Pines I purchased spring-y front porch decorations–a sign with sunflowers and a sea turtle wind mobile. As the weather continues to waffle back and forth between lovely and too cold, I feel I am doing my part to help spring along.

This time of the year, the Jewish calendar tip-toes towards spring. Around Tu Bishvat in Israel, as well as in our climate, we start to see the first buds of spring, even if the ground still frosts from time to time. It is the strength we need to keep moving forward towards the new life that is just around the corner. 

Now, we are gearing up for Purim. This holiday is the spiritual equivalent of putting on shorts a little too early and surrounding yourself with decorations that are more aspirations. As we dress in costume, we do not hide ourselves, but rather we realize our full selves. As we dress up, we actually take off our invisible masks that we wear every day when we hold ourselves back. This is the final refuel of strength we need for the main event.

Passover.

But one thing at a time! We aren’t quite there yet.

Today we declare it spring. In one month, it will be spring. And both of these are important to the process.

When we declare it spring, we actively open ourselves to be able to receive spring when it comes. We engage in a relationship with all that spring has in store for us. Yes, spring comes with the “great pollening” but it is worth it for the freedom to be outside, on the beach, and making our friends with snow still in their backyards jealous.

Judaism is a relational religion. It can not exist in a vacuum, and does not feel the same in isolation. The Jewish calendar keeps moving forward, and we can’t control that. But we can control how we interact with it. Passover is exactly one month after Purim, which is one month after Tu Bishvat. They are the big, medium, and large steps laid in front of us to take towards freedom each year. Yes, you can mark the passing of time with these holidays by yourself, but I encourage all of you to take these steps together with your community.

Use Purim this year as your practice round for Passover. Use your costume to feel more free and partake in the many activities and fundraisers surrounding Purim to connect with yourself and others. 

Let’s declare it’s spring together! Because before you know it, ready or not, Passover will be here. I, for one, am already excited.

B’Shalom and Hag Purim Sameach (Happy Purim),

Rabbi Chaya Bender

Hanukkah, The Second Neilah

On Yom Kippur, we spend the day contemplating.

What was the past year for me?

What does the future hold?

Will I ever have the chance to live to my fullest potential?

The day culminates in the Neilah prayer. During Neilah, we imagine the gates closing as we ramp up our final prayers. The hope is that all of our prayers can break their way through before the gates close for the year.

But the gates never truly close, at least not until Hanukkah.

The gates remain open through Shemini Atzeret, when we pray for rain in its proper time in Israel. We ask for God to send rain:

"To be for a blessing and not a curse.

For life and not for death.

For abundance not for famine."

In other words, as the gates of prayer remain open through the end of the High Holiday season, we pray for quality of life and not only to live.

While the High Holidays have been over for a while now, the gates of prayer, the gates of repentance, remain open still, if only a crack. And as Leonard Cohen wrote, There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. In this case, the light of the fully lit Menorah on the 8th day of Hanukkah.

The Maccabees were too busy fighting for their religious freedom during the holiday of Sukkot, so when they won and rededicated the Temple, they celebrated a makeup festival. According to Hasidic views, the eight days of Hanukkah parallel the seven plus one day of Sukkot, and the eighth day of Hanukkah therefore parallels Shemini Atzeret. Hanukkah, therefore, was the holiday that allowed the Jews to press the giant reset button, to begin again, on their religious lives.

The eight days of Hanukkah allowed for the Maccabees to reinstate three important mitzvot through the eight day long celebration of this festival:

1) The celebration of Shabbat,

2) The Celebration of the new month of Tevet,

3) Brit Milah (if a baby were to be born on the first day of Hanukkah they would have a brit ceremony on the eighth.

But the eighth day of Hanukkah itself has special meaning–it is our second Neilah. 

According to hasidic thought, when God created light it was a pure, primal light that would have been hard on our simple human eyes.  This pure, primal light filled the world for only 36 hours in the fully created world before God hid it away–twelve hours from the creation of Adam until Shabbat, and the 24 hours of Shabbat. On Hanukkah, not including the Shamash (helper candle) we light 36 candles. These 36 candles represent those 36 hours, the most sanctified time of creation when God’s presence was felt most poignantly. On the eighth night, we light that 36th candle. During those few hours on the eighth night of Hanukkah as the candles are burning, the gates of prayer swing wide open. It is a private time when we are connected to the Divine. 

What I learn from this is that it is never really too late to find meaning and connection. It is never too late to try again. Open your heart to the possibilities of what could be if you try again. Be creative and persistent. If you open the door a crack, that is how the light, the pure, primal light, gets it.

Happy Early Hanukkah. I hope to see you at many of our Hanukkah celebrations over the next month. May it be a joyous festival of lights, as well as a time of quiet contemplation.

Shabbat Shalom, 

Rabbi Chaya Bender

Every Small Detail is Significant to the Story

(The following is Rabbi Bender's sermon from Rosh Hashanah Day 2)

When I was a second semester Junior in high school, I transferred schools. For anyone who has moved schools, let alone mid-year, you know this transition can be quite a lot. Not only was it a new school, but I had moved from Atlantic City High School, with 1500 kids in my class, to an orthodox day school, with 6 in my class. The first day of second semester, we are reminded to submit our applications to March of the Living the following week. One short piece of paper and a scholarship later, I was enrolled on what would be a trip of a lifetime.

For those of you who do not know what March of the Living is, it is a trip for students to visit the two opposite poles of recent Jewish history, the horror of the death camps in Poland, and the thriving state of Israel. On Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance day, people from around the world gather in Poland to silently march from Auschwitz to Birkenau. On Yom Ha’atzmaut, Israel Independence day, there is a loud and celebratory march through the old city of Jerusalem to the Kotel, the Western Wall.

You might think that this dance through the streets of our Holy City is the image that most sticks out in my mind. And while I will always cherish that first visit, and every subsequent visit to Israel, a smaller moment from the march from Auschwitz to Birkenau stands out.

When you are Marching, there are students and adults from around the world, and it is hard to not be caught up in the moment and want to learn everyone’s life story. While people on the march try their best not to talk, there is a lot of swag trading. I gave my “March of the Living, America”, hat to a young French woman named Corynne. She signed my hat in French, “In Friendship” to me with the date and her name. 

Then I met a nameless Polish ally. He was not Jewish, I remember that much, but I do not remember anything else about that interaction, because he did not sign what he gave me–which was an Israeli flag.

This man had known this March was happening, and bought who knows how many Israeli flags to give to these students as they made this silent march of remembrance. 

He simply handed me a flag, gave me the faintest smile, and kept walking ahead.

I wrapped myself in this flag and wore it the rest of the way to Birkenau.

To this day, it still has some brown dirt spots on it, and I never dared to dry clean it to get back into mint condition.

That man, that flag, those dirt marks, and that place, are all important parts to making up the significance of that moment.

Every small detail matters. 

If I were to have received that flag from my trip leader, an orthodox man from Lakewood, it would of course be meaningful, but wouldn’t have been burned into my memory like the interaction with the Polish Ally. If I had dry-cleaned the flag in order to hang it up pristinely, it would look like any other flag. It would not be stained with the mud that so many of our family members walked on. The connection to those countless innocent souls would simply be washed away. And of course the memory of where I received this flag. Walking those steps. In that dirt. Knowing I would have a hot meal, a shower, and a hotel bed waiting for me when it was all over. Walking with a flag through any street is always a symbol of my pride, but it will never replace walking to Auschwitz. 

Every small detail matters, and without even one there is no more story.

Washing over any of those details turns the experience more generic, more universal. The particulars, the complexity, the interwoven story that needs to be unpacked layer by layer–that is where the significance lies. And sharing these complex stories, and unpacking them layer by layer with others, that is how we truly tell our stories in order to fully see and effect lasting change.

Today we read of an incident in which every detail mattered, and if one small detail would have been missing, the story would not be the same.

Abraham is called to by God to sacrifice his son as a burnt offering. The next day he loads up his donkey, takes along two servants and his son to begin the journey. Three days of journeying later, he sees the spot where he must sacrifice his son and leaves the donkeys with his servants. He tells them that they are going to go pray together. Abraham and Isaac continue onward, Abraham holding a knife and flint in his hand. Isaac gathers the wood and asks where the sheep is. Abraham tells him the sheep will come from God. They build the altar together, and Abraham ties his son to the altar to sacrifice him. It is at this point that an angel of God has to tell Abraham twice to stop the sacrifice. The angel calls out “Abraham, Abraham.” Abraham responded Hinei, Here I am. God sent a ram to be sacrificed instead. Abraham names the place “God sees” since God saw all that happened. And Abraham gets blessed to be as numerous as the sands of the shore and the stars of heaven.

Every detail of the story mattered. The story we read in the Torah today is terse. With the terseness you get the sense that if one small detail would have been out of place, the story would have fallen apart. 

There is an initial call by God and then three days of traveling. There is not one word spoken in the written text, which leads us to perhaps imagine that no words were spoken in all that time. No questions as to where they are going and why there is no animal being brought with them.

If the two servants had insisted on going along with them, if an animal happened to walk out of the bushes any time before the angel of God showed Abraham the ram in the thicket.

If only anything, then this story would not have happened. Then Abraham wouldn’t get his blessing. Then we would not be sitting here today.

All of it–the silence, the ram, the servants, the bushes, the call–equally significant to the story.

Washing over any of those details turns the experience more generic, more universal. To a story of the beginning of our peoplehood to that of a man sacrificing a sheep with his son and servants. The particulars, the complexity, the interwoven story that needs to be unpacked layer by layer, just as we unpack this story year after year on this holiday–that is where the significance lies. And sharing this complex story, and unpacking it layer by layer, that is how we truly tell our origin story in order to fully see what was and effect lasting change today.

In the chillingly named book, People love dead Jews: Reports from a Haunted Present, by Dara Horn, we are again faced with the small details mattering for the significance of the moment to remain intact.

But first a word on the title for those who have not read the book, and I strongly urge everyone to do so.

From her interview with the Times of Israel article written by Renee Ghert-Zand: 

“It’s not dead Jews, as in people wanting to see Jews die,” Horn explained in a recent interview with The Times of Israel from her home in New Jersey.

Rather, she said, "it’s about the insidious ways in which non-Jewish societies — including contemporary America — pressure or gaslight Jews into modifying, glossing over, or erasing their own identity altogether.”

She gives many examples from docents being told to not wear kippot at the Anne Frank house to the media picking up less and less on recent attacks against the Jewish people on American soil.

In one essay, she talks about an exhibit on Auschwitz put together by the same company who made the famous Human Bodies exhibit that used cadavers to teach visitors about how human bodies move below the surface of the skin. 

This exhibit they put on was called Auschwitz: Not long ago, not far away. Horn describes the exhibit as doing everything an exhibit on the Holocaust should do. It shared background history, explanation about different stages of the war, videos of interviews with people who survived, as well as many artifacts gathered together from other Holocaust museums around the world. Despite doing everything that can be considered proper form for a Holocaust exhibit to have, Horn never wanted to see the exhibit again.

Her main critique is that the museum did not teach the greater population something to really take hold of in order to effect change in the world. The main message she took from the many hours she spent in the museum is that the Holocaust happened from lack of love.

To quote Horn, “The Holocaust drives home the importance of love is an idea, like the idea that Holocaust education prevents anti-semitism, that seems entirely unobjectionable. [BUT] It is entirely objectionable. The Holocaust didn’t happen because of a lack of love. It happened because entire societies abdicated responsibility for their own problems, and instead blamed them on the people who represented–who always represented, since they first introduced the idea of commandedness to the world–the thing they were most afraid of: responsibility.”

In contrast, this is how she speaks about her own experience at March of the Living when she was in High School, “It is the sort of trip the clever people can easily critique, but I was 15 and found it profoundly moving. Being in places with thousands of Jewish teens felt like a thundering announcement of the Holocaust’s failure to eradicate children like me.”

Our stories matter, and every detail in them matters, and to take any detail away reduces the story to something that is not ours.

Thousands of people from around the world have seen the exhibit Horn went to as well as many other, much more well done museums. Yad VaShem and the Holocaust Museum in Washington, are both giants in the world of educating both educators, as well as perpetrators of anti-semitism by inviting them to tour the halls of their museums–each are highly impactful programs. And we know that antisemitism is on the rise, nationally and internationally.

We as Jews are taught the story, the whole story. The personal and political, the camps and the war front, the millennia of anti-semitism leading up to and the attempts to recover from that exist until this day. We are taught the horror, the complexity, and at times, the simplicity, the simple acts of hatred and non-action, that led to and perpetuated the Holocaust.

Every detail matters. Every single one. Every single life. Every single story. And one museum trip, no matter how wonderfully curated, can’t give you the entire story.

Only life-long-learning can do that. Only the expectation that there is more left to learn than you have already been taught can lead you to a life where you can’t simply hate someone for one factor that offends you. You know that the story can never be that simple.

You know that the particulars, the complexity, the interwoven story that needs to be unpacked layer by layer–that is where the significance lies. And sharing these complex stories, and unpacking them layer by layer with others, that is how we truly tell our stories in order to fully see and effect lasting change.

Here we are today. On the last day of our Jewish New Year, reflecting on all of Jewish history that came before us that led us to this point.

In our more recent history: returning to our sanctuary, removing our masks and seeing each other's faces, moving from electronic prayer space to in person prayer space, removing any barriers or distance between us as we pray, handing out candies during the Shabbat morning Torah readings, gathering together for Passover seder, our dedication weekend, the cookout, Friday night membership dinner, and Rosh Hashanah dinner. We can acutely see that all of the details mattered. Every small detail that makes up this shul matters.

Every face. Every voice. Every Jew in the pew. Every attendee of every going on. Every simcha. Every loss. Every story. Every journey.

These are all the small details that we see aren’t so small. With a single detail missing, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be home.

Every single one of us is a part of the significance, the holiness, the home-iness of Bnai Israel.

Your part in the greater story of Bnai Israel is a life-long commitment, and your Bnai Israel family will be with you along that journey of life.

The next time you think, God forbid anyone should think, that you aren’t wanted or needed here, that you won’t be missed, that you don’t need to attend or be a part of something going on here at Bnai Israel, remember that you are that significant element that keeps the story going. 

May this year be one where we can come together in our greatest numbers yet since even before the pandemic. May this year everyone in our family feel at home. May each of us feel that we are needed and wanted, and truly know that we are what is most essential to writing this story of Bnai Israel well into the future.

L’Shana Tova, May this year be one where we pay attention to and cherish every single small detail in our lives. As we already know, the impact will be significant.

B'Shalom, 

Rabbi Chaya Bender