Rabbi's Teachings

Building Trust

(Based on the weekly Haftarah Portion, June 3rd 2023, Judges 13:2-25)

How do we build trust?

How do we compromise in order to maintain trust?

How do we rebuild trust when it has been broken? 

Trust is what happens when the person you are in a relationship with becomes predictable to you.

The most basic trust is developed between a baby and its caregivers. Without even having the capacity to understand the interaction, a baby feels the predictable routine of its caregivers. 

I will be fed. 

I will be warm. 

I will be loved.

Trust is developed between friends when they realize that the other will reliably respond to the other's attempts at connection. 

When one reaches out to the other for support, that need will be mutually and reliably met.

Of course, trust is the foundation of the relationship between loving partners. Trust enables partners to commit to each other and become even more vulnerable in order to deepen relationships.

This week in services, we read the incredible story of the birth of Samson, one of the judges of Israel. 

The story of Samson is paired with Numbers 4:21-7:89 which talks about two very different types of people. 

The first in Hebrew is called Sotah, the wayward wife, a woman who is sent to trial, accused of breaking her oath of marriage to her husband, but there were no witnesses to the supposed violation of trust. 

The second is called Nazir, the nazarite, they set themselves apart from society, not imbibing in any alcohol or even grape products, not cutting their hair, and not defiling themselves in any way, going even to the extreme of not being present when their immediate family is buried.

The ancient rabbis teach that these two stories were placed next to each other to serve as a foil for one another. Perhaps wine could get you into a bad situation, so completely avoiding it will keep you on the straight and narrow. The artistry of placing the Samson story in communication with the section from Numbers is that it adds an element of compromise.

The compromise is: trust.

Samson’s mother, known only as the wife of Manoah, is a barren woman. She was barren until she was visited alone twice by an angel in a field, telling her that she would have a child. 

If the story were told by my Grandmother it might have looked like this: “You know that Mrs. Manoah, the one who’s barren? Guess what, she’s pregnant! But did you hear her story? She was out in the field, and an angel came to her. Poor Manoah. He’s so clueless.”

If Manoah didn’t believe his wife’s story, nobody would have held it against him. In fact, this case would have been a great example of the wayward wife, a woman accused of breaking her oath of marriage to her husband, but there were no witnesses.  But Manoah did not take his wife to trial and their relationship did not need to be repaired, because they had trust.

The rabbis, in their usual fashion, thought that this story was too neat. In rabbinic literature, they composed a back story to what is found in the book of Judges.

We know that the angel visited Mrs. Manoah because she was barren, but the book of Judges does not go into detail at all about what living with infertility was like for the Manoah family. According to the rabbinic imagination, it was very hard on the couple and caused a lot of marital strife with one blaming the other as the cause.

The painful struggle of the Manoah family that the rabbis expose us to is the place where the boundaries of trust and vulnerability are tested. The angel then acts as an agent of faith.

Mrs. Manoah is visited by the angel who gives her the good news. She tells her husband who so desperately wanted to believe her but didn’t yet trust. He pleads to God to have the angel visit him as well—he prays for the ability to be able to trust again. The angel does not visit him, however, instead the angel again visits his wife. This time, she runs to her husband, takes him by the hand, and says, take a leap of faith with me. Trust me. Be vulnerable with me.

He follows her to the field where the angel is, and this time he is able to be vulnerable. They rebuild their trust and deepen their relationship.The child wasn’t the solution but rather the angel. Instead of being alone they are able to walk into a new situation together, stronger than before.

Relationships depend on realizing that the act of extending the hand and the act of taking that hand are both radical and vulnerable acts. This can be experienced in unearthly experiences like the above story. This can also be experienced in the large and small interpersonal interactions we have on a daily basis. 

This is the first time (but not the last time) I will say this in 2023–as the calendar turns to June, we begin our march towards the High Holidays. In what ways are you going to be more vulnerable this year? How can I support you and offer you a hand in this new space of exploration? How can BIC be that intermediary to shake you out of the cycle of the known to step into the unknown? Let’s begin these conversations now and let it be the foundation of an exciting 5784.

May we all be blessed with both God’s outstretched arm–a hand that can extend outwardly to help another, as well as the bravery to extend a hand for others to take so that we can be supported. 

B'Shalom,

Rabbi Chaya Bender

We have a lot to be grateful for. We’ve been extremely busy at the synagogue since our last Newsletter with many major and successful events. 

The Board wants to thank Sisterhood, Alane Savod, and her team of numerous volunteers not only for their hard work and beautiful presentation of Art but for the very generous donation made to the synagogue. We are thankful for the positive communal impact the Art Show made, bringing in attendees not only from Jewish community, but from the community at large. We are excited to see how this annual event grows each year, and for it to become a yearly staple among Wilmington art enthusiasts. 

The Board also wants to thank Rena Goldwasser and her team of numerous volunteers of close to 20 people for baking, filling orders, making the Mishloach Manot hats, and generally spreading around Purim holiday cheer. The fundraiser was a success with a final number forthcoming. We hope everyone enjoyed their delicious (as always) cookies as well as the beautiful Mishloach Manot hats.

The Purim Carnival was a huge success with close to 150 kids and adults there from BIC and TOI. Thank you to Liz Berger and the rest of the carnival team for all of their work planning, setting up, running booths, and cleaning up. We can’t wait to see this grow year after year. The costumes, food, bouncy castle, and games were enjoyed by children of all ages.

Purim night was a lot of fun filled with skits, songs, and grogger-ing. Many talents were exposed from our congregants and celebrating Esther’s heroism has never been done so well. Looking ahead at the calendar, next year Purim is over the weekend, so stay tuned for that!

Finally, thank you to Trish McLean for her countless hours making sure this all came off smoothly. Your whimsical design of the Mishloach Manot hats and table decorations were creative, fun, and required a lot of work when offices were closed. You are a very treasured member of our team and we can not thank you enough.

See you at shul and all of the upcoming Passover events. Do not forget to RSVP for them ASAP and to let us or the office know if you have any questions.

B'Shalom, 

Amy DeLoach, President 

Rabbi Chaya Bender

This is Our Year!

On January 14, we had our first ever Saturday morning Sisterhood Shabbat Service. Over 30 women and teens helped to lead us in prayer, word, chanting, and song. Every single role was filled by a woman, either leading for the first time or in a role they have done many times over. Subsequently, I have had a number of women approach me to learn about how to participate in the event next year or to attain an adult Bat Mitzvah. I am not just proud of these women and teens–I am in awe. 

When I see Jewish women take hold of their Judaism, especially for the first time, my heart always aches a little as I recall memories of my Bubba, Miriam, of blessed memory. She did not have the same opportunities that I did growing up, yet she was the strongest advocate when it came to my secular and Jewish education. While she never had the opportunity to go to college, she was the one who took me to the library weekly as a young girl, helped me get my first library card, and introduced me to books that were above my reading level, always pushing me to learn and grow.

She took me to Shabbat services and sat with me in the back row, her weekly seat, and wouldn’t let me leave until after she had schmoozed with everyone at Kiddush. She was active in Sisterhood as well as any Jewish organization that would allow her to serve. When the synagogue she helped to found finally allowed women to have full participation, she had an adult Bat Mitzvah at the age of 47.

She died far too young and never saw her granddaughter go to rabbinical school; something I am sure would have made her overjoyed. Today there are many young men and women who are growing up in a world where everyone in the pew has an equal opportunity to be on the Bima. My daughter’s Hebrew School class might one day ask me the question I have been asked before by preschool aged kids, “Rabbi Bender, can men be rabbis, too”?

This is our year! This year, let’s appreciate our roots, celebrate who we are, and challenge ourselves to keep moving forward. The inaugural annual Saturday Morning Sisterhood Shabbat Service is just one of the ways we are marking the 125th year of our synagogue’s history. Please reach out to Amy or myself if you would like to be a part of the 125th Year Celebration Planning Committee. I cannot wait to continue to celebrate with y’all.

B’Shalom,

Rabbi Chaya Bender

Fighting for Home

(The following is Rabbi Bender's Sermon from Yom Kippur morning)

This past secular new year, I made a resolution to read more books. In 2021, between Shlomi, and well, Shlomi, I almost got through one book. This year, my 17th book, which I read because it was a New York Times Bestseller and was being made into a movie, was “Where the Crawdads Sing.” It is a story about a girl, Kya Clark, who survived by herself, against all odds, in her abandoned childhood home in the North Carolina marsh. Her father never recovered from his time in the armed service. One by one his wife and all of his adult and teenage children leave. Then he leaves as well. And this 6 year old girl survives by mimicry. She remembers that Ma used to make grits in the morning for breakfast, and through trial and error she teaches herself how to cook. She remembers how her brother used to go fishing in the marsh, and after a few wrong turns, she figures out how to get the boat running and becomes master of the marsh's mazes. She remembers how her father would collect mussels for extra cash, and so she teaches herself how to collect and competitively (working in competition with the local fishermen) sell mussels at the local fill up station next to the dock. 

I will not give away spoilers of this fantastic book, but she fights her entire life in order to tend to and keep what is most important to her in the world, the only constant she has ever had in her life, her home. She hides from social workers who want to get her into a group home and to start school. She fights to keep this family land when it becomes clear that the owners have not paid back taxes in generations. She fights with her very life for her entire life. Now, us responsible adults, especially those of use who are mandated reporters, can easily critique these methods of survival. We can easily judge the few caring adults in her life who helped her get extra food and clothes while also not helping to place her in proper care.

But this is a novel. Kya is written as much as a child as she is a metaphor for the lengths we could, or perhaps should, go to in order to fight for what is most important in our lives. To fight for our home.

It is important to the narrative that she is a child. Children see things both simply and profoundly. They don’t have as much baggage as we do as adults. They don’t overthink things, and yet they care very deeply, they are connected.

My daughter, for instance, loves deeply and fully. She knows who the important people are in her life because she bothers to learn their names. Mama and Yaya, the names she used for myself and Emily, were her first words at 7 and 8 months old. She gives kisses to her family members, even over screen time. Gone are the days she will be held by just anyone. She only wants to be held by those she feels safe with. And I do not think she stays up late at night agonizing over whether or not she should have let the stranger at the grocery store hold her. It is innate. 

Have you ever heard the idiom “From the mouth of babes”? People sometimes say it when little children say truly wise things, perhaps accidentally, but the message hits somewhere deep in the heart of the adult listener. I remember when I told my baby sister, who was four at the time, that Emily and I would be getting married she took a long pause. At first she looked upset. Then something seemed to click in her mind. She said, “Oh! People marry people!” and just continued to play with her toys. From the mouth of babes! If only little kids were running the world, we would be rid of so much adult-driven bigotry.

This phrase comes from Psalm 8:3:

"From the mouths of infants and sucklings

You have founded strength on account of Your foes,

to put an end to enemy and avenger"

Psalms agrees with me about children running the world. Psalms is saying that the words that come out of the mouth of children are of pure intention. That the wisdom of young children has the power to end all war, all struggle. But this end of war and struggle is not passive. The words of children strengthen us to be able to fight back. To fight for what is most important in our lives. In the case of Psalm 8, what are they trying to fight for? Home. A place that is theirs’ in this world–a home where they can be surrounded both by the wonder of nature and the threat of an enemy on the outside. With the wisdom of children, they will have the upper hand. They will be able to fight for home.

And so Kya fought for her home because it was written into her DNA. As a six year old girl, she didn't think about it as the last link between her and her family. She didn’t think about it being the remaining hope that someone would come care for her. It was just all she knew. And so, she fought like the infants and sucklings of Psalm 8. She found the strength to do so within the simplicity of her wisdom as a child. Home for young kids is the place to keep their footing when the rest of the world seems to keep growing and shifting around them. It is where they plant their feet to not fall through the crack of the shifting tectonic plates of their ever changing lives. Home is their constant. Home, that stability, that sense of self is meant to be fought for. It is why kids sometimes fight changes in their lives. What might seem like not a big deal to an adult could be earth shattering to a child. But they always have home. The familiar site of home. The familiar sounds of the house’s unique creaks. The familiar smells of their loved ones' perfume or cologne. The familiar feel of their favorite chair. The familiar tastes of family recipes.

The familiar, the safety, it is worth fighting for, especially when home has been threatened in some way. On Erev Rosh Hashana, I spoke of the Jews returning home to the rebuilt second temple to resume their lifestyle and worship. But you also know from my second day Rosh Hashanah speech that no story is ever that simple.

In the book of Nehemia, we learn that the Jews themselves were able to help in the rebuilding of the Temple. In chapter four we learn that when the Jews were beginning to heal from their past wounds by rebuilding the temple’s outer walls brick by brick, it angered the enemies of Israel, as we see in verse 1:

"When [the enemies of Israel] Sanballat and Toviah, and the Aravim, the Ammonim, and the Ashdodim [basically the enemies on all sides of Jerusalem] heard that healing had come to the walls of Jerusalem, that the breached parts had begun to be filled, it angered them very much, (2) and they all conspired together to come and fight against Jerusalem and to throw it into confusion."

The people building the walls were scared, because they were not soldiers trained for battle. They were artisans, come to do the holy work of putting the Temple back together. They didn’t know what to do to fight against every enemy on all sides.

But Nehemia gives them a pep talk a few verses later, Chapter 4: 8-9:

“Do not be afraid of them! Think of the great and awesome Lord, and fight for your brothers, your sons and daughters, your wives and homes!” (9) When our enemies learned that it had become known to us, since God had thus frustrated their plan, we could all return to the wall, each to his work."

Nehemia tells them–don’t think. You are overthinking. You are doing what adults always do. You are giving me all the reasons you can’t do it, but aren’t acting out of instinct, the innate drive to protect. So he reminds them what they are fighting for. It is not a war between the enemies of Israel and the artisans. It is a fight for the artisans to protect what they value the most–God, siblings, children, spouses, and home. And all they needed to do was shift their thinking from flight to fight, and just that shift made their enemies back away.

But the story does not stop there. As the artisans continued their work to rebuild the wall, they never forgot the lesson that Nehemia taught them. They never forgot what they were fighting for. So, from then on, they made steps to ensure that with each and every brick, they rebuilt into both their minds and the structure, that ongoing fight for home. 

The text continues:

"(10) From that day on, half my servants did work and half held lances and shields, bows and armor. And the officers stood behind the whole house of Judah (11) who were rebuilding the wall. The basket-carriers were burdened, doing work with one hand while the other held a weapon. (12) As for the builders, each had his sword girded at his side as he was building. The trumpeter stood beside me."

In case your mind already went there, this text is often used to textually justify why we have strong security measures in place. And to digress we have incredible security measures in place at this synagogue, all of which only lend to the sanctity of this space–so we can gather and worship without fear. 

But the Tanakh is also a written document. These armed artisans are as much people as they are a metaphor for the lengths we could, or perhaps should, go to in order to fight for what is most important in our lives. To fight for our home. That we build into the very foundation of our homes and in the continued upkeep of our homes the drive to fight for our home not once but every day. To fight for it until it becomes innate.

The congregation knows a lot about fighting for home. When I came here, it is true that you were in the process of rebuilding this home from Hurricane Florence. But you were also rebuilding this home in other ways, trying to come together as a congregation after  a few years of uncertainty, as well as navigate a search for a new rabbi, while also figuring out how to keep the synagogue up and operational during Covid. 

And in the last two years, we have physically and spiritually rebuilt this synagogue. We have ridden the many waves of Covid. We navigated going virtual, going hybrid, and getting back in person.

All of that was a fight response. All of that was the innate, childlike drive to not see this ship sink. To make sure that 124 years of history did not collapse, like so many other houses of worship did during this time. You fought for your home. This home. This physical and spiritual home.

But I am asking you to keep fighting. Yes, I am asking a room full of people with opinions to keep fighting. I do not mean to be nasty and inflammatory. I do not mean to pick a fight or to be confrontational. I am asking you to recognize that this home is a living organism. It can never stop growing. And so, our work of rebuilding is never done. Therefore, never stop fighting.

Never stop fighting for the programs that would bring you and your friends out in droves. If there is a program you feel is missing, fight for it! Help bring in that visiting artist. Help bring in that scholar in residence. Help plan or host that social hour. Just tell me what day you want to lead services or what services you want to learn how to lead. 

Don’t kvetch! Organize! Fight! 

And I will be your Nehemia. Galvanizing you when you don’t quite trust the next steps you need to take. Fighting alongside you and for you.

Fight alongside, not against. Fight together, one hand with the sword and the other laying bricks.

Your ideas, your feedback, your participation are the key missing pieces in our foundation. What you share will never be taken as a personal attack or criticism. It will always be received with excitement–excitement that you trusted me enough to be real with me and share a piece of you, as well as an open heart, and listening ears.

Something that I am trying to learn from our living inspirations, our children, is to be open to every interaction being one where I, where we, can learn from, if we banish our “cant's” and are open to what might be.

Living with childlike wonder is the key to our lifelong fight for home. I had the privilege of getting to know, and the pain of losing such a person in our congregation this year. Dee Sherman, of blessed memory, had a number of conversations with me before she passed. All of those conversations are private and will be gifts I keep with me forever. She shared with me a poem that she loved from the High Holiday liturgy. She loved it so much that she wanted it to be read at her memorial. This poem by Rabbi Alvin Fine is in our Machzor on page 241, as part of the Vidui, confessional section. The poem is meant to remind us of our vulnerabilities, make us aware that we will fail, and sometimes we will fail in ways that make us really stumble and fall. But this is a part of the learning process of life. This is the sacred dance we do as we live, as we grow and mature from childhood to adulthood. 

"Birth is a beginning

And death a destination.

And life is a journey:

From childhood to maturity

And youth to age;

From innocence to awareness

And ignorance to knowing;

From foolishness to discretion

And then, perhaps to wisdom;

From weakness to strength

Or strength to weakness–

And often, back again;

From health to sickness

And back, we pray, to health again;

From offense to forgiveness,

From loneliness to love,

From joy to gratitude,

From pain to compassion,

And grief to understanding–

From fear to faith;

From defeat to defeat to defeat–

Until, looking backward or ahead,

We see that victory lies

Not at some high place along the way,

But in having made the journey, stage by stage,

A sacred pilgrimage.

Birth is a beginning

And death a destination.

And life is a journey,

A sacred pilgrimage."

Life is a journey, from defeat-to defeat-to defeat. Those were the lines that our friend Dee most held to her heart. They were the lines she most remembered and quoted from the poem. But that is the point. We can measure life in a lot of ways. All musical theater nerds who know the song, Seasons of Love, can list now all of the many creative ways that life can be measured:

"In daylights, in sunsets

In midnights, in cups of coffee

In inches, in miles

In laughter, in strife"

From defeat-to defeat-to defeat. Defeat does not have to be negative. Defeat helps us fight even stronger. When Kya burned her first cup of grits, she experimented with more water. She fought to make it better. 

Defeat inspires us to grow beyond our comfort zone. When the artisans saw that they were not prepared for potential battle, they figured out a way to both build and ward off enemies at the same time. 

This year, please fight. Fight for this congregation to never be in a place of stagnation. Fight, with your innate childlike impulse, for this to be a home worth fighting for. 

Gmar Chatimah Tovah, may you be sealed for a good life, but a balanced life, filled with defeat-to defeat-to defeat.

The Joyfully Familiar Feeling of the

High Holidays

My daughter was recently on a plane for the second time in her life, but she has no memory of the first go around one year ago. She had the time of her life. The too big rocking chairs at ILM airport were fun to play in. The long metal tunnels that connected to the plane were the perfect stretch for practicing sprints. Inside the plane, Shlomi waved and said goodbye to all the people on the tarmac, neighboring planes, flashing lights, and tiny far-off buildings she encountered.

I was not surprised at her amusement with every aspect of plane travel, since I didn’t expect her to remember her first time. I was not expecting her to be just as amused with the experience on the way back. 

She laughed even louder as we walked through the long metal tunnels. She sang “The Wheels on the Bus” at the top of her lungs as she saw the different planes (we are working on the difference between a plane and a bus). On the way back, she even figured out the windows can open and shut.

With each trip, she got into the rhythm. She knew what was to be expected, looked forward to it, and embraced it. Each repetition was an opportunity for something new and a deeper connection.

And so we enter our holiest season of the year…again! The same time as last year according to the Hebrew calendar. With the holiday season comes the same formulas, ceremonies, prayers, traditions, and experiences that you may have experienced for decades. There is a delicate balance between keeping services familiar while also keeping them fresh and exciting. While we strive for innovation each and every year, and this year is no different, what might be the most novel this year is that we are returning to how the holidays used to look before Covid waivers and masks. This year, we return to normal, or at least as normal as we can at this stage in the pandemic. 

We recognize that Covid is still very much a reality, but we have transitioned to a period where each of us will take a personal risk assessment and decide what spaces feel safest for us. This year we will have, God willing, a normal, full-housed High Holiday season. For those not yet ready for big in person events, there will still be streaming available. A number of High Holiday events will be outdoors to accommodate all. 

Shlomi inspires us all to embrace the joyfully familiar feeling of a full voiced Shofar and a packed Rosh HaShannah dinner and services. I can’t wait to experience the comfortable and familiar rhythms of the season once again as they are meant to be experienced–with community.

From my family to yours, I wish you a Shannah Tova u’Metukah, a very sweet new year. May you experience many new things this year, and may you get an even greater joy from returning to a full and vibrant every day life.

B’Shalom,

Rabbi Chaya Bender

Installation Speech Friday, June 10, 2022

It's good to be home. 

Emily and I are so blessed to have found a spiritual and physical home in Bnai Israel and Wilmington.

There aren’t enough pens or ink cartridges to express the love and gratitude I have for Emily for being the best friend, partner, writer, and Imah in the world as we journey through life together.

We can honestly say that we have never felt so woven into the fabric of community than we have here. We are blessed to be able to raise our daughter, Shlomi, within these halls. She already has so many bonus aunts/uncles/grandparents from this congregation and we have loved celebrating all of her simchas so far with everyone.

It's good to have a family in Bnai Israel, in all that the word family means and all of its complexities.

Sometimes I walk into my BIC home on a Sunday morning and after setting up a Hebrew School event for the morning, a tots event for the afternoon, as well as an adult luncheon, I feel a sense of pride for the vibrancy of this amazing congregation.

And sometimes I walk into my BIC home on a Saturday morning to find that Duke energy gifted us with a no power/no internet shabbat service and we have to shvitz it out while using my cell phone as a personal hotspot to keep zoom running.

Family is real. Family is messy. 

Family is exactly what you expect while also completely surprising. 

Family has the right heart but sometimes has limitations and boundaries.

Families laugh together, cry together, are silly, are serious, get on each other's nerves–and other colorful things that one can’t say on the Bimah, but healthy families always support each other. 

And families grow.

They grow larger and grow together.

The past two years I have both grown and strived to grow this family to be one that is healthy, fulfilled, and dynamic. 

The great part is, the process of growth is never-ending. I look forward, God-willing, to many years of growth, of blessing and being blessed. 

Of watching the Hebrew School kids graduate High School. Of watching Parents become Grandparents, and Grandparents become Great Grandparents. Of coming together to celebrate life’s joys. Even seeing us come together to go through the timeless, healing steps of mourning.

I look forward to building–not just this sanctuary which is beautiful, but a spiritual home for all. A place where all feel welcomed, embraced, appreciated, and wanted just the way they are. To strive for everyone feeling connected to this congregation as well as their own spirituality and inner drive. I look forward to deepening our bond with Greater Jewish Wilmington and Greater Wilmington. 

When needed, I also look forward to making repairs. I invite all difficult conversations for the betterment of this congregation and our personal relationship.

So thank you. Thank you for the incredible privilege of serving you. I love this family and it is the honor of my lifetime to have been welcomed, along with Emily and Shlomtzion into this family.

I invite all of my Rabbi friends to come up and raise their hands to bless us all with ancient words that come from this week’s Torah portion and that Rav Waxman just blessed me with a few minutes ago. I also invite all current and past presidents to stand if you are comfortable, and raise your hands like the ancient priests as I bless this congregation with the priestly blessing.

יְבָרֶכְךָ ה, וְיִשְׁמְרֶךָ

יָאֵר ה פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ, וִיחֻנֶּךָּ

יִשָּׂא ה פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ, וְיָשֵׂם לְךָ שָׁלוֹם

God will bless you and protect you.

God will deal kindly and graciously with you.

God will bestow favor on you and grant you peace.

Amen v'amen

This week, in the midst of the counting of the omer, we have two very minor holidays or spiritual pauses. Sunday May 15th was Pesach Sheni, Second Passover, and today, May 19th, is Lag BaOmer. 
 
Pesach Sheni, coming a month after Passover, was an opportunity in Biblical times for those who had been in a state of ritual impurity during Pesah to offer a delayed version of the paschal sacrifice. Today, the day is marked by recognizing the power of second chances. We do not always get the chance to start over again or make amends when something went wrong the first time. Pesach Sheni teaches to not take for granted the moment at hand, and most especially if you are given the chance to start again.  
 
And just a few days later falls Lag Ba-omer, “the thirty-third day of the omer”. 
 
Believed to be the day on which the plague that afflicted Rabbi Akiva’s students ceased, Lag BaOmer is a day of respite from the sadness of the omer. On this day, all traditional mourning rituals cease meaning weddings are permitted, and haircuts and shaving are allowed. 
 
Last week I spoke about the sadness in joy and the joy in sadness. These minor holidays are aligned with that theme. While the omer is generally a solemn time of contemplation, these two days ritually require us to pause and be grateful for the opportunity to reflect on gratitude and joy. This is joy in sadness. 
 
On the other hand, this week, on the eve of Pesach Sheni, we lost our friend, Beryl Jacobson, wife of Jay Jacobson. She was a woman of many tastes and talents, a sharp and witty humor, with a love of travel only rivaled by her love of family. She passed just a few weeks shy of her 70th wedding anniversary. This is sadness in joy. 
 
Yet, as I met with her family and prepared for her funeral, surrounded by her art she had collected over the years and tokens from her many travels with Jay, hearing her family share many humorous memories of her, joy in sadness appeared yet again. 
 
These times of complex grief harken to the verse in Isaiah 45:7: 
I form light and create darkness, 
I make peace and create woe— 
I God do all these things. 
 
I remind myself in these times that God is in all of these occurrences, the difficult times and the celebratory times. The omer teaches us that all times, no matter how they appear on the surface level, are tinged with both celebration and difficulty. 
 
Last week, my cousin’s wedding was colored with the difficulty of feeling full joy knowing the brides’s cousin had died tragically young and would be greatly missed from attendance. 
 
This week, we bury of our dear friend Beryl, knowing that she loved a deep love that people only dream of, and was about to celebrate 70 years of love with Jay. We will sit shiva with the family in her home where you will be able to see on every wall and shelf space a piece of her adventures.  
 
May Beryl’s memory eternally be for a blessing and may her family be granted strength, solace, and consolation. 
 
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Lag BaOmer, 
Rabbi Chaya Bender 

Purim Sameach, Happy Purim, Y'all!

Don't forget about our carnival, complete with bouncy castle and cotton candy, Sunday, March 13 at 11 am, and our Purim Party, featuring breakfast for dinner and an ice cream bar (in addition to the regular bar) and the megillah, Wednesday, March 16 at 6:30 pm.

In honor of the last weekend of JDAIM, please take the time to listen to this incredible talk by Rabbi Lauren Tuchman, the first blind woman to enter the rabbinate, about the Transformative Power of Inclusive Torah.

View here for her talk, We Were All at Sinai:

https://www.myjewishlearning.com/eli-talks/we-were-all-at-sinai-the-transformative-power-of-inclusive-torah/

To learn more about Rabbi Tuchman, you can visit her website: https://rabbituchman.com/

You are invited to continue this conversation by coming to services this Saturday morning for a special presentation about visual ability led by Theresa Densmore during Kiddush.

Together we will build a more inclusive and welcoming BIC.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Bender

Rabbi Elazar said in the name of Rabbi Haninah: Torah scholars increase peace in the world. As it says, ‘All of Your children (בָּנָיִךְ) are students of God; great is the peace of Your children’ (Isaiah 54:13). Read this not בָּנָיִךְ — ‘Your children’ — but rather בּוֹנַיִךְ — ‘Your builders'.” (Berachot 64a)

The past two years, our Hebrew School has grown substantially. We have learners from preschool to high school within our walls. Not only are they learning about their heritage and building lasting relationships, I have found that they are also teachers. 

Our Hebrew High School class has spent the year finding ways to learn through action. One such action is finding ways to “green” BIC—thus living out the principles of Baal Tashchit, not wasting, and Tikkun Olam, fixing the one planet we have. They are inviting adults to join them in hosting an Adama Shabbat, details in our weekly newsletter. Please consider joining these incredible teens on their mission. In doing so, our children truly will be our builders of a brighter, greener future. 

Dear Bnai Israel Congregation Family,

There is a Shabbat tradition to sing zemirot, songs, after a shabbat meal. Before you clean up the meal, or even move on to dessert, the table erupts in songs so that family and friends can stay together a bit longer and sing verses of praise. One such song goes like this:

אַחֵינוּ כָּל בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל, הַנְּתוּנִים בְּצָרָה וּבַשִּׁבְיָה, הָעוֹמְדִים בֵּין בַּיָּם וּבֵין בַּיַּבָּשָׁה, הַמָּקוֹם יְרַחֵם עֲלֵיהֶם, וְיוֹצִיאֵם מִצָּרָה לִרְוָחָה, וּמֵאֲפֵלָה לְאוֹרָה, וּמִשִּׁעְבּוּד לִגְאֻלָּה, הַשְׁתָּא בַּעֲגָלָא וּבִזְמַן קָרִיב.

As for our siblings,​ the whole house of Israel, who are given over to trouble or captivity​, whether they abide on the sea or on the dry land: 

May the All-prese​nt have mercy upon them, and bring them forth from trouble to enlargeme​nt, from darkness to light, and from subjectio​n to redemptio​n, now speedily and at a near time. 

It wasn’t until last night that I truly appreciated the full weight of that zemer (song). Before yesterday it, like many of our songs and prophetic writings, referred to some time long ago or a time yet to be seen in the future.

Yesterday, the Jewish people were attacked when, following Shabbat services, an unnamed suspect held four people for almost 12 hours, including Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker, at Congregation Beth Israel in Colleyville, Texas. Thanks to law enforcement and the collective prayers of the Jewish people, all four hostages have been released. 

Upon returning safely to his home, Rabbi Cytron-Walker posted on social media:

I am thankful and filled with appreciation for
All of the vigils and prayers and love and support,
All of the law enforcement and first responders who cared for us,
All of the security training that helped save us.
I am grateful for my family.
I am grateful for the CBI Community, the Jewish Community, the Human Community.
I am grateful that we made it out.
I am grateful to be alive.

I urge you all to do as we have done for two thousand years–continue to live Judaism out loud. Do not let those who aim to terrorize us in our holiest places on our holiest days win. I urge you to Show Up for Shabbat.

This Friday night we are installing the new board and celebrating Michelle Bannon for her years of extraordinary service in her position as president. Kava Notes will be offering songs to enhance the evenings. After services we will have a celebratory oneg. 

Show Up for Shabbat–in person or on zoom. Come celebrate as a community so that fear does not keep us from our tradition and each other.

In doing so we can fulfill the words of yet another zemer:

יְהִי שָׁלוֹם בְּחֵילֵךְ שַׁלְוָה בּאַרְמְנוֹתָיךְ.

Peace be within your walls, prosperit​y within your palaces.

B'shalom,
​​​​​​​
Rabbi Chaya Bender

While we already had our Jewish New Year 5782 back in September, we are approaching our secular New Year 2022. It might not be a date of Teshuva, Tefillah, and Tzedakah (Repentance, Prayer, and Charitable giving), but it does still have some spiritual significance.

In Judaism, there is a belief that numbers have spiritual meaning in a practice called Gematria. The number 2022, surprisingly enough, is spiritually significant. 2022 is the value of the letters from Psalms 96:6 added up.

Psalm 96:6:

Glory and majesty are before God;
strength and splendor are in God’s Temple.
הוֹד־וְהָדָ֥ר לְפָנָ֑יו עֹ֥ז וְ֝תִפְאֶ֗רֶת בְּמִקְדָּשֽׁוֹ׃

Psalm 96 is a central part of our liturgy, especially on Friday nights. We sing it as a part of Kabbalat Shabbat. The refrain of verse 11 is perhaps most familiar; Yismekhu HaShamayim v’Tagel Ha’Aretz. Let the heavens rejoice and the earth exult; let the sea and all within it thunder. Psalm 96 reminds us that the power and beauty of God is found not only in God’s Temple, like in verse 6, but also in the earth itself, like in verse 11. May this secular new year be a time where we can reflect on and find the sacred in everything from our Synagogue space to sitting on the beach during this glorious December weather.

May 2022 be a spiritual boost to the heights you reached at the beginning of 5782.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Chaya Bender

From Our Rabbi

It is traditional to sing Maoz Tzur, Rock of Ages, after lighting the Hanukkah. The lyrics that most of us are familiar with are:

Rock of Ages let our song,
Praise thy saving power;
Thou amidst the raging foes,
Wast our sheltering tower.
Furiously they assailed us,
But Thine arm availed us
And Thy word broke their sword,
When our own strength failed us.
And Thy word broke their sword,
When our own strength failed us.

These lyrics show one aspect of the holiday–the unlikely defeat of the Greek Army by a bunch of shleppers. However, that translation is not a direct interpretation of the Hebrew words. A more direct translation would be this:

O mighty stronghold of my salvation,
to praise You is a delight.
Restore my House of Prayer
and there we will bring a thanksgiving offering.
When You will have prepared the slaughter
for the blaspheming foe,
Then I shall complete with a song of hymn
the rededication of the Altar.

These lyrics tell the same story a little differently. This version is set before the battle with the Greeks and is a request for God to intervene so that the Temple can be restored. After God fulfills God’s promise, then we will go about rededicating the Temple and singing God’s praises.

The lesson: God is on both sides of the miracle. God is in miraculous defeat and God is in the courage to ask for help when taking that first step seems impossible.

Like the Maccabees, this past Sunday we took a huge step in rededicating our sacred space. Congregants of all ages came together to label, sort, break down, and throw away things in our synagogue to make room for more places to “do Jewish." A huge thank you to Jon Alper and Harold Eichenholz for leading Sunday’s cleaning effort, to Nikki and Felice Zeldin for setting up our party afterward, and to all of our volunteers that day. A special thank you to Lloyd Zeldin for all of his cleaning and organizing leading up to Sunday so that we could best focus our efforts. It was especially meaningful to gather around the fully lit menorah at the end of the party. I felt the true meaning of Hanukkah–being able to safely practice Judaism to the fullest extent in a building that we have cared for physically.

Hanukkah may be over, but the party isn’t! I hope to see many people gathered inside our social hall this Sunday at 11:30 for our Neighbors in Conversation brunch, featuring more delicious winter holiday foods. Together with our friends from St. Judes we will continue to explore miracles in our own lives and during this season.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Chaya Bender