Ever wonder why I sign my emails, “l’shalom?” A long time ago I worked for a rabbi who told me to. Insistent that I did. He was emphatic. I wish I could say he gently guided me.

I had been signing them “B’shalom. B’shalom, in peace, is something we say about people who have died. As Sue pointed out in English we say, “rest in peace.” But that is not quite enough. The preposition in Hebrew, B’ can mean in, at or with. So in our liturgy we will actually sing B’shalom in several places, notably in the Shabbat liturgy. We want G-d to bless us “b’shalom”, with peace. We want the Shabbat angels to come b’shalom, in peace. Watch while you are sitting at services.

L’shalom is the hope that the world, that we ourselves will move towards peace. It is a similar usage to G-d speaking with Abraham. “Lech l’cha,” is usually translated as “Go forth” or “Go from” but really the rabbis teach us it carries with it the sense of “Go towards” They say it means, “Go towards yourself. Become yourself.”

Some days, this week for me in particular, it seems we can’t do much about peace. The world is too confusing. Too scary. What can we individuals possibly do? Why even bother?

Then I remember a good friend of mine. She is a Quaker. She has a tradition of signing every email, “Peace.” Because for her that is the ultimate goal. Because it is something she can do.

Her original idea came from a book of Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander where he said, “If you yourself is at peace, at least there is some peace in the world.” So every time she signs an email she says she brings more peace into the world. And she smiles.

And she uses another quote that as she points out has been ascribed to lots of people, “There is no way to peace. Peace is the way.” This quote, often attributed to Gandhi came from AJ Muste who was born in the Netherlands, grew up in Grand Rapids in the Dutch Reformed Church and then became a Congregational minister in Newtonville, working on labor relations including those in Lawrence, MA and on peacemaking. I felt like I was reading about a kindred spirit.

Depending on my mood I “hear” her signature in different ways. Sometimes I hear it in the way she intends. Sometimes I hear it and think, really—I am never going to be at peace. The world will never be peaceful, what is she talking about, why is she challenging me, what does she expect of me.

Then I remember this discussion about L’shalom/B’shalom and I understand. Peace is something we hope for. We are not there yet. Peace is a process. So, I will keep signing my emails, “L’shalom.” One day we may get there. Speedily and in our day.

L’shalom/sa’alam/peace
Margaret

Susan Johnson is a retired teacher, former president of Congregation Kneseth Israel where she currently serves as Sisterhood treasurer and VP of Education. Retirement means that she has more time to devote to her volunteer activities which are copious. She has five grandchildren and enjoys attending all sorts of events with them and providing one-on-one  bubbe time!

Why can’t I describe peace? As I think about history, before and during my lifetime, I don’t think it has ever existed in a political sense. Sadly, there is always fighting somewhere in the world. Mankind only seems to know a “cease fire” until the next battle.

So perhaps, there is another way to look at peace. I have often heard someone say upon the death of a loved one, “They are at peace.” How sad that a person has to wait until his death to be at peace.

But wait, a person doesn’t have to wait until his final moment. If I like who I am, if I treat life with optimism, humor, and honor, then my life is peaceful. I believe that each person can choose to be happy. If I am happy with myself, I can treat others with respect. Life is full of challenges but they can be met with optimism and joy. Have I always had this philosophy? No, it comes with maturity. As adults, our responsibility is to provide our children the security to acquire this feeling. Our job as a community is to provide others around us the same self-assurance.

For me, peace is an inner feeling. My wish for the world is that others can gain that feeling so someday we can live in a world of peace.

Earlier this summer I wrote about sitting in my step-daughter’s home, in Los Angeles, praying for peace. The similarities between Los Angeles and Jerusalem seemed palpable. Yet LA seemed calm and Jerusalem seemed on the verge of war. It was.

I remember sitting on other porches. In Jerusalem. On a kibbutz. The porch at Jolli Lodge. In this very house waiting for news that we would live here. Always there has been the hope of peace.

The song “Bashanah Haba’ah” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKrbnmYY1Rs captures the same sentiment that Doria wrote about on her porch in Revere, Massachusetts:

Next year, we’ll sit on the porch
And count the migrating birds.
Children on vacation will play tag
Between the house and the fields.

You’ll see, you’ll see
How good it will be
Next year.

Red grapes will ripen by evening
And will be served chilled at the table.
Eazy breezes will carry to the crossroads
Old newspapers and a cloud.

You’ll see, you’ll see
How good it will be
Next year we’ll spread our hands
To the streaming white light.

A white heron will spread its wings in the light
And the sun will shine
from within them.

You’ll see, you’ll see
How good it will be
Next year.

Bashana haba’a
Neishev al hamirpeset
Ve’nispor tziporim nodedot,

Yeladim bechufsha
Yesachak’u tofeset
Bein habayit l’ve’in hasadot

Od tireh, od tireh
Kama tov yihiyeh
Bashana, bashana haba’a

Anavim adumim
Yavshilu ad ha’erev
Ve’yugshu tzone’nim lashulchan,

Ve’ruchot redumim
Yis’u al em haderech
Itonim yeshanim v’anan.

Od tir eh, od tir eh,
Bashana haba’a
Nifros kapot yadayim
Mul ha’or hanigar halavan,

Anafa levana
Tifros ka’or k’nafayim
V’hashemesh tizrach b’tochan.
Od tir eh, od tir eh,
Lyrics by Ehud Manor, music by Nurit Hirsch, translation in the “Harvard Hillel Sabbath Songbook” (Ben-Zion Gold, ed., Pub by David Godine, 1992, ISBN 0879239409)

So sitting on a porch, watching the children playing, sipping a cup of coffee (really at 7PM? Not me!), maybe peace is achievable. It is like the hope expressed in Isaiah, “Everyone ‘neath their vine and fig tree shall live in peace and unafraid. And into plowshares beat their swords. Nations shall learn war no more.” This vision is popularized in an Israeli folk song, Lo Yisa Goy, adapted by Peter Paul and Mary, and emblazoned on the wall at the United Nations.

Yehudi Amichai, the Israeli poet, took it one step further. In his, “Appendix to the Vision of Peace” said, “Don’t stop after beating the swords into plowshares, don’t stop! Go on beating and make musical instruments out of them. Whoever wants to make war again will have to turn them into plowshares first.”

That’s the vision of peace I want to keep. That I want to promote.

And yet, I am puzzled. Earlier this summer I was asked why the prophet Joel seems to say the opposite. “Beat your plowshares into swords, and your pruning-hooks into spears; let the weak say: ‘I am strong.’ (Joel 3:10)

After the senseless and brutal killing of another American journalist, there has been some sabre rattling. Maybe Joel is trying to teach us that in some circumstances it is important to be strong. It is OK to defend ourselves. Not only is it OK, it is necessary.

Deuteronomy carefully spells out the correct way, the just way to conduct a war. For instance if you built a house but haven’t dedicated it, if you planted but haven’t harvested, if you married but hadn’t consummated it yet, you don’t have to go to war. Even if you are “fearful” and “fainthearted,” you didn’t have to go. If you offer a city peace and it accepts, the people become your bounty. But if you offer peace and it makes war—then you may besiege the city. And for me, one of the most important teachings in all of Torah—if you must besiege the city (seems to be a last resort option), then you must not cut down its fruit trees.

From this we derive the principle of bal taschit, do not destroy. From this we derive Judaism’s fundamental commitment to the environment, to G-d’s creation, to all living things.

Being strong is important. We are told over and over again “chazak v’emetz, be strong and of good courage.” For example, Joshua 1: 6. How we are strong is equally important. Our tradition gives us both.

As for me, I want to sit on my porch, sipping my coffee or maybe a glass of wine, listening to the children at play, someone singing while strumming a guitar, and let no one make me afraid. That is my vision of peace.

I sometimes call myself the TV, because I receive ‘feelings’ all the time. They are always associated with sight or smell.  The smell of garlic roasting in olive oil to me signifies home, because it was the most present smell on Sunday mornings when my dad cooked Sunday dinner.

Sometimes, not often, I feel peace in certain situations and people.  A situation that comes to mind is my 7pm ritual of sitting on my porch with my husband, having a cup of coffee.  I can hear the complex’s fountain whispering in the background, the birds chattering to each other ‘Day is Done, Day is Done”, dogs and children playing in their respective parks.

I feel peace watching snow fall, seeing fat bumblebees buzz among beautiful flowers, hearing rain drumming on a roof, and long ago watching my children sleeping as babies.  That gave me the most peace, watching their untainted minds drift in and out of a wonderful dream, their mouths making that suckling pout even when sleeping.

I find great peace in the sounds and smell of the ocean.  In fact, many years ago, when I was going through a particularly difficult time in my life I often would drive to the ocean and just sit.  That was where I found peace, and where I felt God.

The person I find the most peace with, nowadays,  isn’t a ‘religious’.   He’s just my husband. Perhaps I confuse the feeling of contentment and safety with peace, but with him my heart and mind are at peace.

Being a Roman Catholic I know I’m supposed to say I find peace in church, but I think God is everywhere.  When I feel God is present in a situation, as in babies, the ocean, nature, I feel a profound peace.

Recently, I had to give a speech at my best friends memorial service.  She died recently of breast cancer and we grew up together.  We had been friends for nearly 50 years.  I do not do well speaking in front of crowds.  I get classic cotton mouth. I stumble over words and get very, very nervous.  One would think a situation like the speech would be one I would be wringing my hands over, and I thought so too.  That morning, when I got up to speak I remembered her bravery. Her friendship, not the loss of it. But how lucky I was to have her as my friend, And peace came over me.  I gave a good speech that day, I never stumbled, never got my cotton-mouth, and I didn’t cry.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that peace and the feeling of peace is different for each of us, and we can make that peace happen, and sometimes it just comes over us.  It’s something we should try to remember when in a not so peaceful or peace-filled time.  Lord, make me a channel of your peace.

Doria Pizzotti is a long time friend. We share having older husbands on their second marriages and kids and grandkids about the same ages. Our families have celebrated many holidays together. When our girls were about eight, the Lowell Sun dubbed them the handmaidens of handwashing in a caption about Passover. Her husband’s question, “When do we eat” for Passover is legendary. As an ordination present she hand made a needlepoint kippah with an Israeli memorah and a peace dove on it. Many nights sitting around a table we have discussed peace.

Paul has a point. That first cup of morning coffee can bring peace. Whether I am sipping it fresh from my Keruig or I get it at Starbucks, that first sip brings an “ah moment.” If I am in the right emotional space, I remember to thank G-d, and all the little people who made that cup possible.

Modah ani lefanecha, melech chai v’kayam, sheheharzarta b nishmashi, bechemla, rabbah emunatecha. I thank you G-d. I thank you God, Living and Eternal King, for returning my soul to me, filled with Your trust. I thank you G-d for allowing me to wake up.

Or the ee cummings variant on the theme:

i thank You God for most this amazing 
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

e.e. Cummings

If I am thinking about the people who brought the cup of coffee to me, I remember the Girl Scout grace: “Back of the bread is the flour, and back of the flour is the mill, and back of the mill is the wind and the rain and the Father’s will.”

There is a shortened version of Birkat Hamazon, the grace after meals, that appears in the Talmud. Hazzan Jack Kessler and Rabbi Shefa Gold has set it to music http://velveteenrabbi.blogs.com/blog/files/brich.mp3

“Brich rachamana, malka d’alma, malcha d’hi’pita. You are the Source of life for all that lives and Your blessing flows through me.””

One year at a retreat for the Academy for Jewish Religion, Rabbi Suri Krieger layered the tune with words like this: “We are grateful for the people who cooked this meal, who wash the dishes, who serve it to us. We are grateful for the people who grew the food and harvested it. We are grateful for rain in its seasons and the sun to warm the earth. We are grateful for being here, for being part of community, for being alive.”

If I have used my purchasing power correctly than I have purchased fair-trade, organic, kosher coffee. I have not used the disposable, plastic Keurig cups. Instead I have used one I can recycle—either the ones that are like cheesecloth or the ones that are refillable. We have those in stainless and in plastic. Then I compost the grounds.

Can a cup of coffee bring peace? I hope so. On a personal level, when I sit on my deck, steaming cup of coffee in hand, take a deep breath in and hear the birds. On the local level, when I meet a friend for coffee and we discuss the issues of the day. We might laugh together or we might cry. And on the macro-level. When Jews, Christians and Muslims come together to grow coffee. That’s what Delicious Peace coffee is. A coffee collective in Uganda of Jews, Christians and Muslims. That’s peace.

Off to find that first cup of coffee at a program called Java and Jews! Come find me at Starbucks.

I’m just one person. I am not a world leader. I cannot control the destiny of nations. I cannot decide whether to send out an army, or drones, or decide not to. I can elect those who have that power, but my vote does not really control what they do.

So in my smaller world, where can I find peace? What can I do to achieve peace?

I am fortunate to live in a nice home, in a nice neighborhood. I don’t go to bed hungry, and neither does my family. So when I wake up in the morning, I find peace. I step outside to get the paper and get to enjoy the quiet, and the sky, and the trees around the neighborhood. It’s still early, it’s quiet, and there’s no conflict. These days I often leave home before my wife wakes up, so as she lies there, there is peace. I get to my desk at the office, usually before most other people, and as I sip my morning coffee, there is peace.

I know that some people view me as cranky at times, but I’m sincerely trying to change. A cancer scare does that. But I’m really trying to be calmer, more forgiving, more tolerant. I’m much more patient waiting in lines, or dealing with traffic, than I used to be. I try to put into practice what I learn in my yoga class, and in times of stress, I take deep breaths, do a calming hand gesture, and practice mindfulness. It helps.

If the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil can set off a tornado in Texas, maybe if I can achieve peace in my world, that might have its own ripple effect. And if I can be the calm in the middle of whatever storm might arise, then maybe my peace will spread.

Paul Glaser is an appellate court trial attorney. He is also my “bimah partner” who week after week has my back as we try to provide a meaningful worship experience. He does so with grace, compassion and a sense of humor. Cranky–not so much–but he does like things to run smoothly and on time.

One verse. That is all we are going to discuss today. One verse. Tzedek, Tzedek, tirdof.

Who can translate it? “Justice, Justice shall you pursue.” What does just mean? Behaving or being morally right or fair. Synonyms include: fair, equitable, impartial, unbiased, objective. There was a fair amount of discussion about whether law, which is different from justice, can be equitable or not.

What does tzedek remind you of? Tzadik, a righteous person and tzadakah, the obligation of righteous giving.

Why is tzedek repeated here? The rabbis teach there are no extra words in Torah so why repeat? For emphasis. To make the point that we must pursue justice for ourselves and for others, especially the widow, the orphan the stranger. To remind us that justice must be fair—and impartial—not favoring the rich or showing deference to the poor.

What does pursue mean—to chase after, to actively run after.  How?

The rest of the portion is about the how. It tells us how to set up courts, how to try a capital case—there must be at least two witnesses or three to enact the death penalty, how to fight a just war, and the principle of bal tashchit, not destroying.

Let’s talk about the why. Why now? The Israelites are about to enter the land. And we’ve been told, it is a good land, a land flowing with milk and honey. They are going to set up a utopian society. In fact the Puritans, much later, would use these very verses from Deuteronomy to set up their own utopian society on these shores. They need these rules in order to set up a just society. They need to be reminded that “You shall not judge unfairly; you shall show no partiality; you shall not take bribes, for bribes blind the eyes of the discerning and upset the plea of the just.”

We can all picture Lady Justice blindfolded with her scales balanced. And we could debate whether, even in this country, we have achieved blind justice. I think we would have to agree, in light of Ferguson and other cases here in the United States, that the answer would be no—but that would be a debate that could take all afternoon. I don’t think the ideal has been achieved in Israel either. Yet this verse, “Justice, Justice shall you pursue” is the Biblical goal, the Biblical mandate.

There is only one other time that the verb pursue is used to describe an ideal. What is that? “Seek peace and pursue it.” Psalm 34:14. And while this verse comes from Psalms, this verse is given the full weight of a mitzvah, commandment, even though it does not come from the Torah. Seeking peace these days is difficult. It may even seem impossible. And yet, and yet, we are commanded to, we are obligated to, just like we are obligated to set up a just society.

What is the connection between the verses? Without justice, there cannot be peace. Without peace it is hard to achieve justice.

Why two verbs—seek and pursue? The rabbis answer, “Seek it in your place and pursue it in another.”

Rabbi Amy Eilberg, the first Conservative woman rabbi said in her recent book, “From Enemy to Friend, Jewish Wisdom and the Pursuit of Peace, “The two verbs convey different elements of the command: seek peace when conflict comes to your doorstep but do not stop there. You must energetically pursue opportunities to practice peace, near and far for it is the work of G-d.”

She points out that the Hafetz Hayyim said, “Seek it (peace) for your loved one and pursue it with your enemy. Seek it in your place and pursue it in other places. Seek it with your body and pursue it with your material resources. Seek it for your own benefit and pursue it for the benefit of others. Seek it today and pursue it for tomorrow. With reference to “seek it tomorrow” it teaches that one should not despair, thinking that one cannot make peace but rather one should pursue peace today and also tomorrow and on the day afterwards until one reaches it.”

So in our troubled world, this brings me hope. Even if peace seems distant. Even if peace seems nearly impossible, we should pursue peace. Today and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

“Peace I ask of thee O River. Peace, peace, peace. When I learn to live serenely, cares will cease. From the hills I gather courage. Visions of the day to be. Strength to lead and faith to follow. All are given onto me. Peace I ask of Thee O River. Peace. Peace. Peace.”

It’s an old Girl Scout song. One we used to sing just before Taps. It was always calming and hopeful. Maybe I will have strength to lead, if I can just be like a river. Maybe the river will bring peace. Since I loved canoeing, I was frequently on a Michigan river, where I would draw inspiration. Just ask my family about car trips up north. As we go over each river I proclaim, “I canoed this river.” Maybe this song is a prayer. Maybe this feeling of peace will descend again. Maybe. Maybe.

The night is falling. Shabbat is coming. Quickly. Too quickly. And as “the sun on the treetops no longer is seen, we welcome the Sabbath, the bride, the queen….”

We won’t be ready. We are never ready. The house won’t be ready. The chicken won’t be ready. Quickly, quickly. Just one more email, really. Then I’ll put my computer down.

The rabbis in Tzefat used to go out into the fields, dressed all in white to welcome that Sabbath bride, that Sabbath queen. With it came that chance to take a deep breath and pause. They would sing L’cha Dodi. “Come my beloved to greet the bride, the presence of Shabbat…Come in peace, Shabbat bride.”

Peace.

Peace is like the river. Deep like a river.

The greeting for Shabbat is Shabbat Shalom. Sabbath of peace. I will never get there either.

There is another story told about the song Shalom Aleichem that many families and some synagogues sing on Friday night. It welcomes the Shabbat angels. “Shabbat angels? you ask, “are angels even Jewish.” The word in Hebrew for angel is malach and it carries with it a sense of messenger. Abraham was visited by three angels, then later his hand was stayed by an angel and Isaac was spared. Jacob wrestled with an angel. Angels appear throughout the Torah.

The song Shalom Aleichem is based on a Talmudic story: “Rabbi Yosi ben Yehuda taught: “Two ministering angels–one good, one evil–accompany every Jew from the synagogue to his home on the Sabbath eve. If they find the candles burning, the table set, and the bed covered with a spread, the good angel exclaims, ‘May it be God’s will that it also be so on the next Sabbath,’ and the evil angel is compelled to respond ‘amen.’ But if everything is disorderly and gloomy, the evil angel exclaims, ‘May it be God’s will that it also be so on the next Sabbath,’ and the good angel is forced to say ‘amen.'” (Shabbat 119b)

The song asks the angels of peace to “Come in peace.” But the last verse is “Go in peace.” Debbie Friedman, of blessed memory asked how, before Shabbat really even begins, can we ask the angels to depart in peace? Shortly before her death she composed a new version of Shalom Aleichem which includes another verse that asks the angels to “Return in peace.” This beautiful, haunting, easy to sing melody is being used not only at Shabbat tables to begin Shabbat but also at havdalah ceremonies that mark the end of Shabbat. Debbie never had the opportunity to record it formally, but here is a clip of her teaching it. http://sjnm.huc.edu/media/Debbie%20Friedman%20Shalom%20Aleichem.mp3

So here is what is remarkable. It had been a hard week. The world news is not good, raising our anxiety levels. There were too many meetings at night. Too many nights up past midnight. Too much work to do. Too much writing to do. Too many heated discussions about buying a car or a house or both.

But when my family paused and worked as a team, a sense of calm and peace descended on the house. We cleaned. We cooked. We set a beautiful table with flowers on it. You could say that mopping the floor, at least for me, brought peace. At least for the moment. So I hugged my daughter and kissed my husband and said I was sorry for the added angst I had brought into the week. So Friedman may have it correct. May the angels of peace come in peace, exit in peace and then, return in peace. Again and again and again. May it be so.

A worldwide peace treaty where travel is possible seems very distant right now. The news this week continues to be frightening. The images on the television and internet even more so.

I believe in travel. I love to travel. I have lived and worked internationally. Those experiences have enriched my life and I encourage others to do so. I believe that travel and encounters with people who are different from us actually bring peace. I work passionately for mutual understanding.

Yet, this year I cancelled a trip to Kenya and then the organizers cancelled the entire program. I advised someone not to move to London. I have friends who did not travel to Mexico. Flights have been rerouted over Europe to not fly over the Ukraine. Badly aimed missiles from Gaza shut down Ben Gurion airport for a short time. All of this makes me very sad.

But continuing to hope seems to be what makes a Jew.

The national anthem of Israel is called, “HaTikvah, The Hope.” Edmund Fleg sums up being a Jew this way:

I am a Jew because
Judaism demands no abdication of the mind.
I am a Jew because
Judaism asks every possible sacrifice of my life.
I am a Jew because
wherever there are tears and suffering the Jew weeps.
I am a Jew because
     whenever the cry of despair is heard the Jew hopes.
I am a Jew because
the message of Judaism is the oldest and the newest.
I am a Jew because
the promise of Judaism is a universal promise.
I am a Jew because
for the Jew, the world is not finished;
 human beings will complete it.
I am a Jew because
for the Jew, humanity is not finished;
  we are still creating humanity.
I am a Jew because
Judaism places human dignity above all things,
 even Judaism itself.
I am a Jew because
Judaism places human dignity within the oneness of God.

Jews pride ourselves on diversity of opinion so we do not have a creed per se. Rambam wrote the Thirteen Principles of Faith which is included in Orthodox siddurim, prayerbooks and recited daily. For me, Edmund Fleg’s formulation is much closer.

With the news the way it is, it was suggested this was the wrong year to write about peace. I disagree. It is precisely because of the news that I have to write about peace. There has to be another way. We, as Jews, have to help find another way (even as some of the world is convinced that Jews are the problem, not part of the solution!).

Yet, Jews must do more than hope. More than pray. Jews are told to “Seek peace and pursue it.” Psalm 34:14. Pursue carries with it a sense of obligation, a need to actively run after it. We can’t wait for it to come to us. We have to go find it. We have to make it happen.

The verb is the same as the verse we read towards the end of Deuteronomy, “Tzedek, tzedek tirdof. Justice, justice shall you pursue.” (Deut 16:20).

Connecting these two verses, I think means that by living a just and righteous life we are pursuing peace. By modeling that life of justice we bring peace.

So I pray for peace, even when there seems little hope. May G-d who makes peace in the high heavens, make peace upon us, upon all Israel and upon the whole world and let us say Amen.” And I actively work for peace, locally with events like i-Fest and my participation in clergy councils and internationally. I refuse to give up. I am a Jew.

What is peace to you?

As the Jewish New Year approaches, our Rabbi asked each member of our Synagogue to pick one aspect of peace and write about “What is peace to you”? The very first thing that came to my mind was the weekly prayer for peace that we recite on the Sabbath. “May we see the day when war and bloodshed cease, when a great peace will embrace the whole world.” To me the significance of this prayer is being able to freely travel to any country without fear and to be welcomed with love and not hatred.

In 1958, I had the unique privilege of traveling to Israel, during its 10 year anniversary celebration, to have my Bar Mitzvah in Tel Aviv. I was treated to trips throughout the country by my Israeli relatives, and could feel the love of the people in Israel. Jews and Arabs alike. Unfortunately, because the Old City of Jerusalem was occupied by the not so friendly Arabs, I was not permitted to go into old Jerusalem. As a matter of fact, when we stopped at a high chain link fence separating us from the Old City, looking out from the Mount of Olives; I was quickly told by my Israeli cousins not to get close to the fence; because the Arabs would shoot at me.

It wasn’t until 1993 when my wife and I took a trip to Israel that I got to visit the Old City of Jerusalem. Also, because of the peace treaty with Egypt, we were able to fly from Tel Aviv to Cairo, Egypt. Several of our friends in the States tried to talk us out of going, saying that it was too dangerous, but we found that the Egyptians were a warm and friendly people and trustworthy. When we deplaned from the Cairo airport I hadn’t noticed that my money clip fell out of my pocket onto the tarmac, but one of the baggage handlers came running up to me to return my lost money clip, with all of its contents included.

What is peace to me? It is a worldwide peace treaty allowing unilateral safe travel to any place on this earth without fear of harm or hateful sentiments.

Rich “Shalom” Kruth is an active member at Congregation Kneseth Israel, especially as part of the Saturday morning minyan and as a member of the Men’s Club. He loves to travel, especially after the end of tax preparation season since he owns his own business FLP Professional Tax and Planning Services.