Studying together brings a connection, a closeness that is unparalleled in my experience. From our earliest days, when hopefully a parent reads bed time stories snuggled under the covers, we are deeply connected to our parents and we begin to know we are loved. When we go to school, we make new friends as we puzzle out words, and meanings of those words, and math concepts. When we play on the playground, we may build friends for life while we are building sculptures in the sand box.  

As we go through the years, elementary, middle school, high school and college, we often make friends. Connections. We work on projects together. We all wind up on the same team, or chorus, or band, or theatre. We build micro-communities. 

One of my favorite books is Lifelong Kindergarten whose subtitle is Cultivating Creativity through Projects, Passion, Peers and Play. I would add that in addition to cultivating creativity, allowing the space for the 4 Ps creates community and fosters the kind of connection we have been talking about. 

I am still in touch with people from elementary school (Breton Downs), high school (East Grand Rapids High School) college, (Tufts University) and my seminary,(Academy for Jewish Religion). Thanks go in part to Facebook. 

What I want to talk about is AJR, and Jewish study in particular. There is a concept of chevruta, study with a partner. The root of chevruta is friend. My chevruta partner and I puzzled over Talmud, over codes, over life. Childrearing, balancing work, school and family. We buried parents together and worked through health issues together. The meaning of life. Beyond the answer 42. We talk most days still, There is a deep, deep connection. We can make each other laugh. We have cried with each other. Meditated together. Led services and study sessions together.  

We survived 9/11 and its aftermath together, which seems especially appropriate to say on this day of all days.  

Together is the key word. We are a thousand miles away and are still the best of friends.  

All because we laughed (and sometimes wept) through a codes class. We actually sometimes begin a call with “I can make you laugh,” which then is often true.  

My hope is that when you study with someone you find that deep sense of connection and togetherness. 

This is a warning! If you befriend me, there is a high statistical chance that you will move out of town in the near future. Ever since my childhood everyone I have been close to has moved away. 

Connecting with people becomes more difficult as you get older. You are not a blank slate to be written on with shared experience. You have to explain your past to anyone you might hope to form a friendship with. 

As difficult as it was to lose connection with individuals along the way, I also experienced the loss of an entire community when I had to give up riding horses after 40 years. You lose proximity to people you saw on a daily basis, not to mention the ups and downs of riding and showing. 

I drifted away from the equestrian world slowly. For a while I visited at horse shows and barns of old friends, but I soon began to feel like an outsider, losing connection. 

But then something wonderful happened, albeit out of a tragedy! After the Tree of Life Synagogue massacre Jews were called on to Show Up For Shabbat and I did! 

I was a little nervous about walking into a room where I didn’t know anyone, but the sounds and sights of the service were so familiar and comforting to me that I soon began to feel connected! 

And the people!! All so welcoming! I truly felt connected! And more so once I started participating in the various study groups, Hebrew class, Torah Study, Java and Jews. So many connections to be made that I am sure will not be broken. 

But more than connecting with people, important as that is, I’ve connected with Judaism in a way I never thought I could. I’ve learned so much and developed a deep connection with Torah and the rituals of connecting to Torah.  

Myrna Rosenbaum 

We last talked about the beloved community and connections between people. Those connections are one important way we build community. This weekend was an important weekend in the life of our congregation.  

We started the weekend with First Friday Family Shabbat, geared to young families. As part of this we named a new baby boy and welcomed him and his family into the Jewish people. That is a strong connection! And the parents of our young students are connected and formed their own little kahal, group. They enjoy seeing each other and schmoozing, catching up month after month.  

On Saturday we had our regular Shabbat morning services during the course of which one of our older students was called to the Torah as a Bar Mitzvah. He had worked really hard and has been in our Torah School since kindergarten. He did an outstanding job. His parents, his grandparents, aunts and uncles are so proud of him. His teachers, his ed director, and of course, I, as well are also so proud of him. Creating Jewish memories for our students and allowing them to shine, to rise to the occasion is part of what being a community and forging those deep connections is about. 

Next weekend we have an aufruf, where we shower a couple with blessings and sweet candy before their wedding ceremony. It is another moment of deep connection that we hope the couple and the families never forget. It helps bind the couple to each other and to our community, hopeful building lasting connections. 

Sadly, however, everything is not joyous. A member of our community has died. Coming together to help the family mourn and creating a meaningful funeral and shiva is a big part of what a caring community does. We may not want to. We may be sad. But making sure that the ritual is appropriate for each family and the deviled eggs perfect adds to their sense of being supported, cared for and loved. Rabbi Sharon Brous in her book, The Amen Effect talks about just showing up. That’s what we need to do, across all the life cycle events, birth, coming of age, marriage and death. Show up.  

Maureen Manning, the Executive Director of the Community Crisis Center spoke to our Torah School parents on the first day of school this weekend. Her message: Look around you. These other parents will be your friends. They will be there for bar mitzvahs, for high school graduations, college graduations, baby showers, wedding showers and for those inevitable times when life gets hard, because it will. It always does at some point for all of us. They will help you bury your parents, or your spouse or G-d forbid your children. But they are the ones you will be connected to. Your life long friends. Just show up.  

Danise Habun talked about the groups she is connected to. She is also teaching me about “the beloved community,” an important concept of Dr. Martin Luther King’s non-violent organizing principles. That’s what we are trying to build in the world, when we talk about tikkun olam, repairing the world. We are working towards the beloved community. https://thekingcenter.org/about-tkc/the-king-philosophy/ We are reading the book as a group, “Healing Resistance, A Radically Different Response to Harm.” 

At a recent gathering of people brainstorming what the beloved community would look like we were asked what we love, and specifically about Elgin. I am proud to be part of this group of leaders from a wide range of Elgin and know many of the people in the room and feel connected to them.  

 When it was my turn to speak, I commented on my bracelet which says “Ani L’dodi v’dodi li, I am my beloved and my beloved is mine.” A verse from Song of Songs it is used in many Jewish weddings. It is an acronym for the Jewish month Elul that we are in, And it is seen as reassuring. That G-d is our beloved and we are G-ds. We are connected to something bigger than us and that brings comfort. It is reminder of the I-Thou relationship that Buber talks about. We will talk more about that as the month progresses.  

 The principles of Kingian Non-Violence and building the beloved community can happen anywhere. My question would be what does the beloved community look like to you. How are you connected to your community?  

Today’s thought comes from Danise Habun, a dear friend and community activist. She understands the power of connections and community in building the beloved community. Here are her words: 

Connections are spiderwebs between people, places, ideas, activities, stages of life, love and loss. Connections are the bonds between us, sometimes strong, other times brittle and easily broken. Connections are the bonds that exist between humanity, our planet, our communities, our relationships with family and with our pets. 

I am fortunate to be connected to so many others in so many ways. Recently I rediscovered connections while working on a photo project with my niece in celebration of my sister’s 70th birthday. By looking through so many pictures, I had the luxury of being able to pause and reflect on different familial connections at different stages of my life. I was able to recall the warmth of my sister, and I snuggled on the laps of our mother and grandmother. The memory brought tears. I also examined pictures from my college years with my sister and future brother-in-law and I was able to pause and laugh at all of the things that we did in those years that remain hidden from others. But we know because of our connection. 

I am connected now to a community of cancer comrades who continue with chemotherapy and treatment. With this community, I am able to share my feelings and outrage at the indignity of this disease and our medical system. This is a connection that I wish I didn’t have. 

If I am connected to you, there is less likelihood that I will deliberately cause harm to you. If I am connected to a community, I will do my utmost to defend that community. If I am connected through love, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, protected and cared for to the best of my ability. If I am connected through a cause, I will advocate and speak out until someone listens and does something. 

     Danise Habun 

Last night my congregation participated in a program on Zoom called “Death over Dinner.” The premise is that sometimes death is a difficult topic, one that is to be avoided at all costs. I first participated in the this program at the Chicago Board of Rabbis in February of 2020. Yes, you read that right, February of 2020 before we knew what was coming. I sat there and said, “This will be my Selichot program.” And it was. On Zoom. What we were given that day was a series of cards. A Jewish teaching on one side and some questions of the back.  

Last night we started with this, written by Rabbi Sharon Brous, author of the Amen Effect which will be our November book group book and a One Book, One Read congregational book. She introduces Dinner over Death with this:

“Yom Kippur is the annual Jewish deep dive into our mortality, the one moment when we step out the death denying culture we live in and peer, with open yes and heart into the deep. Every year we talk about how the rituals of tis day create for us a deathscape—we don’t eat or drink, we wear white, we immerse in the memories of loved ones who have died. We repeat the words who will live and who will die, wrestling with the realization that the stark and bitter and awful reality is that some of us will be here next year and some will not. Yom Kippur is rooted in the assumption that we have more clarity around what matters most when we’re on the edge of life. So we go there, together, in order to ask ourselves the ourselves the questions of the palliative care doctors: what matters most o you, now? And what will you do about it.?” 

We didn’t get much beyond the first question on the back. “If you discovered you had 30 days left how would you spend them?” 

For some this was difficult. For some they will spend time with family and friends. (Connections!) For some they will have a big party to tell their friends just how much they mean to them. (More connections!) I think I liked this one best.  

One card said Create Space and added that the Torah is filled with genealogies, connecting people from generation to generation. With each name comes a new story. We talked about how we were named, who we were named for and the significance they have in our lives. It was fascinating. And it deepened our connections to each other hearing the stories. The connections between the generations were obvious too.  

We talked about music, and Psalm 23 which is heard at many Jewish funerals. In English, in Hebrew or both, chanted or not. What role do you want music to play in your own funeral. No one listed a Hebrew song. But there were many English ones…and again we deepened our relationships one to another. One thing that surprised me was two people said that want me to do their funerals. Why? Because I know them. They didn’t want someone to just standing up there reading poems, not knowing them. This is connection and community too. I am humbled.  

We ended our evening with Kaddish, for those who came before and for the hostages recently murdered. As hard as the conversations can be. As tragic as the recent executions were, it was a good and important and connected evening. I am grateful to the CKI community.  

Today is Rosh Hodesh Elul, the first of the New Month of Elul. It has been said that Elul is an acronym for “Ani L’dodi v’dodi li. I am my Beloved and my Beloved is Miine.” I wear that as a silver bracelet on my wrist. It was a gift of my husband many years ago, so it connects me to him. It connects me to my Bat Mitzvah which was observed many years ago since the phrase from Song of Songs was part of my portion. It connects me to Moses who began his journey up Mount Sinai for a second time on Rosh Hodesh Elul. He returned 40 days later on Yom Kippur.

For the next 40 days we will be looking at connections. Some of you have written powerful things which we will share, here on this blog.

Why connections? It arose out of a conversation with the Torah School Parents, Last year we spent the year studying community, using as our verse, “Do not separate yourself from the community.” It turns out that what we want from community is connection, Friendship. Deep relationship. We want to not feel isolated or alone.

Participating in this project at a time when people still feel isolated and alone, will help.

Participating in this project before Rosh Hashanah will provide insight and deepen our own preparation and connections, one to another.

That’s what I had written, But I need to add.

This weekend was painful. Physically and emotionally painful. Six of the Israeli hostages were found murdered, yes murdered, in a tunnel in Gaza. Many rabbis wrote the words we have all written so many times. There are no words. I tried to come up with some. Others may have had even more poignant ones, not that it was a competition.

What I have learned working on this topic this summer is that connections are about just showing up. Show up for your friends. Check in on them.

Participating in this project at this time of great angst in the world, agony in the Jewish community will help. Make a connection.

Eleh devarim, these are the words… 

What are the words? Which words? Whose words? To whom? 

This is the very beginning of the Book of Devarim, Deuteronomy. It is Moses’s swan song, his summary of all of the ethics, the history, the rules, the mitzvot that the Israelites are to live by when they inherit the land that Moses himself won’t enter. It is addressed to ALL the Israelites, to ALL of us. Not just to the leaders or the priests, ALL.  

My friend Joanne Fink did a lovely piece of art for this week’s parsha. Eleh Devarim.  

What words would you pass down to your next generation? We’ll have this very opportunity to talk about this a little later as we begin our preparations for Rosh Hashanah in earnest.  

Elu v’elu, Divrey Elohim Chaim. These and these are the words of the living God.
These are the words that are on the ark at the Academy for Jewish Religion which teaches that there are 70 faces of Torah. 70 correct ways to interpret each and every word of Torah  

This is not a new concept in Judaism, taking all the way back to the Talmud and other rabbinic literature: 

“One thing God has spoken; two things have I heard (Ps. 62:12) and its gloss in the Talmud, “One biblical verse may convey several teachings . . . In R. Ishmael’s School it was taught: And like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces (Jer. 23:29), i.e., just as [the rock] is split into many splinters, so also may one biblical verse convey many teachings” (TB Sanhedrin 34a).” 

The earliest reference for the specific term Shivim Panim LaTorah is in an early medieval text, Midrash Bamidbar Rabba 13:15-16. The term was used both by the rationalist Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra (died 1167) in his introduction to his Torah commentary and, a century later by the mystic Rabbi Nachmanides (died 1270) in his Torah commentary on Genesis 8:4.  

That this concept was used both by rationalist and mystical Torah commentators indicates how fundamental it is to understanding the meaning of Divine revelation. In fact to where we are as a society today. The concept, though not the exact wording, also appears in a post Talmudic midrash, Otiot d’Rabbi Akiba, as “Torah nilm’dah b’shiv’im panim”- Torah is learned through 70 facets. 

So how do we know which interpretation is right?  

Let’s remember, the Puritans came to this land to escape religious persecution in Europe, to worship G-d in the manner they felt was right. To interpret scripture on their own and not have someone tell them what the implications are. 

 The early rabbinic writings are full of these examples: 

 From Berakhot 58a teaches: 

The Rabbis have taught : Who sees crowds of Israelites should say “Blessed… Who art wise in secrets,” because their minds differ and their faces differ. 

The midrash expands on that:   

Bemidbar Rabbah 21:2 

The law is: If one sees many thousands of people, one should say: Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Wise One who knows secrets, just as their faces are different from one another’s, so too their understandings are different, for each one has a different understanding…and so too Moses requested from God, when he died. He said: Master of the Universe! Every person’s thoughts are known and revealed before you, and none of your children’s thoughts are similar to another’s. When I die, please appoint a leader who can sustain them all according to their own understanding…. 

The Talmud teaches us how to have these discussions, debates, arguments:

Eruvin 13b:10-11 

For three years, the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai argued. One said, ‘The halakha is like us,’ and the other said, ‘The halakha is like us.’ A heavenly voice (a bat kol) spoke: “These and these are the words of the living God, and the halakha is like the House of Hillel.” A question was raised: Since the heavenly voice declared: “Both these and those are the words of the Living God,” why was the halacha established to follow the opinion of Hillel? It is because the students of Hillel were kind and gracious. They taught their own ideas as well as the ideas from the students of Shammai. Not only for this reason, but they went so far as to teach Shammai’s opinions first. 

Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, The Book of Jewish Values: A Day-By-Day Guide to Jewish Living, New York: Random House, 2000, pp. 186-7:  

Note the copyright. 2000.  These are not new problems. The answers are timeless.

 “Significantly, the heavenly voice ruled in favor of Hillel and his disciples, even in areas of ritual dispute, for moral reasons: he and his followers were “kindly and humble.”  

 The wording of the passage suggests that Shammai’s followers had grown somewhat arrogant. Certain that they possessed the truth, they no longer bothered to listen to, or discuss the arguments of, their opponents. Their overbearing self-confidence led them to become morally less impressive (the language of the Talmud suggests by implication that they were not “kindly and humble”) and probably led them to become intellectually less insightful (after all, how insightful can you be if you are studying only one side of the issue?) 

Because the School of Hillel studied their opponent’s arguments, when they issued a ruling, they were fully cognizant of all the arguments to be offered against their own position. Thus, their humility not only led to their being more pleasant people, but also likely caused them to have greater intellectual depth.  

We can all learn a lesson from the behavior of Hillel and his followers: Don’t read only books and publications that agree with and reinforce your point of view. If you do so, and many people do, you will never learn what those who disagree with you believe (at best, you will hear a caricature of their position, presented by people who, like you, disagree with it). It would be a good thing in Jewish life if Jews in the different denominations, or in different political camps, started reading newspapers and magazines of the groups with which they disagree, on a regular basis.  

If you seldom hear, read, or listen to views that oppose your own, and if almost everyone you talk to sees the world just as your do, your thinking will grow flabby and intolerant. That is often the case with ideologues on the right and left, both in religion and in politics. 

As this text teaches us, humble people are not only more pleasant human beings, but in the final analysis, they may well be the only ones who will have something eternally important to teach.” 

There is a story  often repeated that illustrates this and sometimes it even happens right here: You’ve probably heard one version or another!
A new rabbi became embroiled in a controversy. Every week, when the time came to chant the Shema, half the congregation would stand, the other half would sit. (In our congregation it is more likely to be over various Kaddish prayers.) Those who stood screamed at those who sat, “That’s not our tradition!” And those who sat screamed at those who stood, “That’s not our tradition!” This went on week after week. It was driving everyone crazy. Finally, the new rabbi had a great idea. She (Note, in this version it is a woman rabbi!) brought representatives from each group to visit the shul’s last remaining founding member. They gathered around his bed in the nursing home. First, those who stood for the Shema asked the old man: “Wasn’t it always the tradition in our synagogue to stand for the Shema?” “No,” the old man whispered. “That was definitely not the tradition.” The other delegation jumped up in triumph. “So, we’re right!” they said. “It’s always been our tradition to sit for the Shema!” The old man shook his head: “No,” he whispered. “That wasn’t the tradition either.” The annoyed rabbi screamed: “I can’t take this anymore! Do you know what goes on in shul every week — the people who are standing yell at the people who are sitting, the people who are sitting yell at the people who are standing—” Suddenly, the old man interrupted, almost jumping out of his bed. “Aha!” he said. “That was the tradition!” 

You may have heard, even this morning, that there is an election coming. Our mothers had it right. “Think before you speak. If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all.” 

Another version of that, attributed to many authors from Socretes, to Bernard Meltzer to the Buddhists and available as cute memes and posters to hang in classrooms. Probably because it rings too true: Before you speak, think about whether 

• Is it true 

• Is it kind 

• Is it necessary 

If it is, then and only then should the words be uttered. Disagreeing is fine. Arguing is fine. However, be kind and generous in your speech.  

I want to leave you with this poem, as we continue to approach Tisha B’av. What a gift the Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai has given us: 

The Place Where We Are Right 

From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.
But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood. 

When I lived in Israel and studied in an Orthodox yeshiva, yes an Orthodox yeshiva sponsored by NCSY, I learned that G-d lives in Israel too. You can find G-d in Jerusalem, at home with His bedroom slippers and His newspaper. It was a relaxed view of an approachable G-d. I liked the metaphor. We are closer to G-d in Jerusalem. Gg-d is family. 

At the Kotel, the Western Wall, there is an idea that the Shechinah, the Divine Presence of G-d hovers over the Kotel. The Divine Presence has never left Jerusalem. G-d is still at home in Jersualem. Closer, approachable. Even though we have other teachings that “G-d’s glory fills the whole world”. Even though we are also taught that the Shechinah, that Divine Presence accompanies Israel into exile, (Megilah 20) and returns with them. And it has never left the Western Wall (Rambam Beit HaBechira 6:16) . 

A symbol of that Divine Presence are the mourning doves that hover over the Kotel crying. 

This week I saw a lot of mourning doves. Right here in Elgin. Were they are a sign? Maybe. 

This coming week we will mark Rosh Hodesh Menachem Av. Nine days later we will observe Tisha B’av, a day which marks the destruction of both Holy Temples in Jerusalem. The formal name of the month is Rosh Hodesh Menachem Av. Menachem, meaning comfort. How do we find comfort on Tisha B’av? How do we find comfort today? Can we? 

This week’s portion fascinates me. It didn’t seem to fascinate the Torah Study group as much. That’s OK. On the cusp of entering the Land of Israel, two tribes didn’t want to cross over the Jordan and live in the historical boundaries of Israel. They wanted to live on the other side. Where there was plentiful grass for their cattle. Where their families would be safe. It seemed idyllic to me. And unlike my husband with a degree in dairy farming, I am not such a big cow fan. Maybe it was from that first trip to Israel when I worked in the dairy farm on Kibbutz Revivim. I much preferred picked pears. 

These tribes, the Gadites and the Reubanits negotiate with Moses and together they come to the decision that they will be the shock troops and go in the lead to capture the Land of Israel and then return to land they wanted to settle, with their cattle, wives and children.  

I didn’t remember the part about the shock troops. I don’t know that I would be willing to do that. I do remember the beginning of the war in Iraq. It began with “Shock and Awe”  Shock and awe is a developed military strategy based on the use of overwhelming military power and spectacular displays of force designed to paralyze the enemy’s perception of the battlefield and destroy their will to fight. Who else was up watching what seemed like an amazing fireworks display on March 19, 1996? Yet, we knew that real people were dying on the other end of those fireworks. War is messy. Real people die and I have never been comfortable with phrase “collateral damage.” Shock and awe  wasn’t completely popular even within the Bush administration:  “Before its implementation, there was dissent within the Bush administration as to whether the shock and awe plan would work. According to a CBS News report, “One senior official called it a bunch of bull, but confirmed it is the concept on which the war plan is based.” CBS Correspondent David Martin noted that during Operation Anaconda in Afghanistan in the prior year, the U.S. forces were “badly surprised by the willingness of al Qaeda to fight to the death. If the Iraqis fight, the U.S. would have to throw in reinforcements and win the old fashioned way by crushing the Republican Guards, and that would mean more casualties on both sides.”[ 

We seem to be at another such moment. As the news continue to heat up in the Middle East, and the United States deploys as they say, “more assets” to the region, it seems that an escalating war is inevitable. I don’t want that. I don’t think anyone really does. I know that my friends that live in Israel are alarmed. Afraid. But in typical resilient Israeli spirit they debate things like whether they should drink whiskey or go to the disco or make plans for coffee on Tuesday.  

What I want is peace. What I want is like what the Rubenites and the Gadites wanted. To live in peace wherever they choose. Everyone. Those in Jerusalem, those in Beirut, those in Gaza and those in Tehran. Those in in the Ukraine. Those in Russia. Those in Darfur. The list could go on and on. 

And importantly, even those of us who have chosen to live here. In the United States, removed from the land of Israel, still, by choice in the Diaspora, Galut. 

What I want is the vision of Micah, where everyone can live under their vine and fig tree and none shall make them afraid. That vision was one that was especially meaningful to our first President, the father of our nation, George Washington. He used the phrase over 50 times in his writings, notably in his letter to the Hebrew Congregation of Newport, Rhode Island. 50 times. https://www.mountvernon.org/library/digitalhistory/digital-encyclopedia/article/vine-and-fig-tree   

He, like the Gaddites and the Ruebanites, were peasant farmers. His hope was that these new farmers would be independent and freed from military oppression.   

This vision was one that was shared in the iconic song Bashanah, First written in 1970 by Nurit Hirsch and Whud Manor, it is filled with that unique Israeli hope. One year we will sit on that porch. 

In the first year of the pandemic, the Maccabeat released this version. It was touching then and touching again this morning, “Soon the day will arrive when we will sing together and the distance will just disappear…wait and see what a world it will be.” And those children. Oh those children. They are our hope. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WsWouCsbaQ&t=4s 

 Next year we will sit on the porch
and count migrating birds.
Children on vacation will play catch
between the house and the fields.

You will yet see, you will yet see,
how good it will be next year. 

I don’t know what the new week will hold. I am not a military strategist. I worry about friends and relatives I have in Israel. I worry about the remaining hostages held now for 302 days. I worry about Gareth’s nephew, a professor in Beirut.  

I find comfort as we approach Menachem Av in the children. I find comforat in all of you, choosing to live authentically Jewish lives. Here. I find comfort in friends who are not Jewish who reach out to see how all of us are and what they can do to help. I find comfort in knowing that we can continue to do acts of lovingkindness to make the world a better place just as Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai told Rabbi Yehoshua when they saw the Holy Temple destroyed.  “Do not be afraid, we still have another way:   It is acts of lovingkindness, as it says: ‘For I desire lovingkindness and not sacrifices’ (Hosea 6:6)” (Avot de Rabbi Nathan, chapter. 4) 

We who continue to live in the Diaspora, by choice, are like the Gadites and the Rubenites. It is now that we need to continue to step up and support our brothers and sisters in the land of Israel, in the State of Israel, who may be on the front lines of whatever is coming next. Reach out to your friends. They are scared. Send money, places like JUF, JNF, Hadassah, New Israel Fund, Parents Circle, which ever organization makes sense to you, whichever one is most authentic to you. Stay informed, with a variety of news media. Jerusalem Post, Times of Israel, Ha’eretz, briefings from JUF. Write or call or even better both your elected officials.  Participate in our programming for Tisha B’av. Find one act of lovingkindness that you can commit to and do it. Stay engaged. Connected. 

Notice the mourning doves. Count those migrating birds. Here. Perhaps they come to remind us of Psalm 30 which we said earlier this morning.  “We may weep at nightfall but joy comes with the dawn… You turned my mourning into dancing, my sackcloth into joy.” 

 Together, we will get through this. Together. That’s what brings me comfort.