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Almost everything I see these days is telling me that time is running out. The school superintendent is sending emails such as “it’s hard to believe there’s only 6 more weeks of the school year!” The principal is sending messages saying “hurry to buy those black dress slacks for the end of the year concert! Only 19 more days to go!” Summer camp is reminding me to fill out my forms because “camp starts in only 60 days!”

Advertisements on television, radio, and the internet are all urging me to “lock in now, before prices go up!” or “Buy now, only a few more left in stock!” Of course, then I rush to sign onto my Amazon account to order whatever the item is only to find out that it won’t ship to me in time for whatever I need it for even though I have Amazon Prime. So then I race to the physical store – a rare occasion in these past two years for so many of us – only to find that they have no stock due to shipping delays and production delays worldwide.
Is there any surprise that our country finds itself in a mental health crisis – specifically anxiety disorders? Now, there is a difference for sure, between feeling anxious or nervous about something and actually suffering from an anxiety disorder, but the symptoms in the moment can be alarmingly similar. And if those nervous or anxious moments are forced upon anyone for enough times, the weight can become unbearable. Our country, as a whole, is suffering. And we are both the victim and the assailant.

It’s an age old method. News reporters will tell you that tragedy, drama, and blood sells. The winner of the national spelling bee, or the idea that the weather was sunny again with enough drizzle to perfectly water the daffodils, does not. And while it might be true, it doesn’t make it healthy. It doesn’t make it helpful. And it doesn’t make it right.

Now, I don’t think that this bulletin article or any changes that it may inspire anyone to make, will even begin to make a dent in our country-wide culture of preying on “FOMO” (Fear Of Missing Out). I cannot hope to make an impact as strong as that. But, I do hope that this can touch one person in one way or another.

What do I mean by that? What then, is my message?
My message, my plea, is simple. Be aware of the other. Tactics aimed at using and abusing someone else’s fears or insecurities, is not only unethical, but it is hurtful and unacceptable as well. Another person’s weakness is not yours to exploit for your own gain, either personal or business. On the flipside, do not feel compelled to take on anyone else’s anxiety. Now, this is much easier said than done. And for those in our community with mental health struggles, it is a daily battle that wages constantly. If you do not suffer from a disorder, but you find yourself having difficulty coping with something, please take a moment to stop and breathe. Try self-talk, meditation, or simply to close your eyes at that moment and slow things down. If you feel that you have an anxiety disorder – if your anxiety begins to interfere with your everyday life, please see a professional. My door (zoom, in person, phone, or otherwise) is always open and I am happy to listen, help if I can, and refer you when necessary, to someone who can help you. You are NOT alone.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, but mental health is a lifelong commitment. Please don’t stay silent if you are suffering. Call me in the office at extension 111 or on my cell phone at 516-330-0667. I’m here for you.

Carbohydrates and cheese- the dynamic duo of comfort foods. There’s something about their combination that always hits the spot. Any day of the year you can find me eating a bagel with cream cheese, but on Shavuot, I indulge in a special treat, blintzes. On Shavuot, we celebrate the revelation of the Torah on Mount Sinai to the Jewish people. Shavuot literally means “weeks,” and is a reference to the seven weeks the Israelites journeyed in the desert to reach Mount Sinai. Shavuot is a holiday long associated with dairy foods, and there are several reasons for the connection. The simplest explanation is that milk is a symbol of the Torah, which nourishes the Jewish people, much like milk for a baby. Textual references to Israel being the land of milk and honey (Exodus 3:8) provide one explanation, and Song of Songs 4:11 which says Torah is like “milk and honey under your tongue” provide another. A third example can be found in Numbers 28:26 where the sacrificial meal offering of Shavuot is described. The four Hebrew words spell out “mei halav,” which means “from milk.” Extrapolating upon this, sages believed this to mean that dairy food was the appropriate meal for the holiday. Even further, the gematria (numerical value) of the word “halav” (milk in Hebrew,) equals forty, the number of days that Moses spent on Mount Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments.

For all of these reasons, dairy foods are prominent on Shavuot. My favorite, blintzes, of Eastern European origin (their name is fittingly Yiddish, adopted from the Russian word for little pancakes, blinyets) are a traditional food eaten on the holiday, which I believe has to do with the mass immigration of many Eastern European Jews to America. Other popular dairy foods besides blintzes eaten on Shavuot include cheesecake, kugels and the Sephardic equivalent to blintzes, cheese bourekas. I had always been nervous to make blintzes myself, but last year I decided to take the plunge and it was well worth it!

In case you want to skip the freezer bought blintzes this year, try this recipe: To make the pancakes: Combine 1 cup of all purpose flour, 1 tablespoon of granulated sugar, ¼ teaspoon of salt, 1.5 cups of milk, 4 large eggs and 3 tablespoons of melted butter together. Using a hand mixer, blender or stand mixer, puree the mixture until it is smooth. Then let it sit at room temperature for half an hour. (At this point make your filling.) To cook the pancakes, heat a 10 inch nonstick skillet or frying pan on medium heat, lightly coat with butter and add ¼ cup of batter, swirling it to make sure it covers the bottom of the pan. Cook until the bottom is golden brown and then using a spatula, loosen the edge of the pancake. Using your fingertips, flip it over to cook the other side for 1 minute. Slide it out of the pan and continue the process until all the batter is used. You will likely need to add more butter to coat the pan between pancakes. To make the filling: Traditional blintzes use farmer’s cheese which can be difficult to locate, so I use 4 oz of softened cream cheese and 1.5 cups of ricotta cheese. In a mixing bowl, combine the cheeses and add 1 egg yolk, ¼ cup of granulated sugar, 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract and lemon zest. Stir together until smooth and well combined. (¼ teaspoon of cinnamon optional.) How to assemble: On a flat surface, lay a pancake out. About 1 inch above the bottom of the pancake, put in 2-3 tablespoons of filling. Fold the bottom edge over the filling and then take both sides and fold them in. Roll from the bottom up keeping the sides tucked in. Place the blintzes in the freezer for 10 minutes. After they firm up in the freezer, the last step is to fry the blintzes until golden brown using butter or coconut oil in a skillet. Place them in the skillet in a single layer and fry each side (usually around 4 minutes.) When ready to remove, put on a paper towel lined plate or cookie sheet to absorb the excess butter or oil. Serve your blintzes with fresh berries, powdered sugar, sour cream or fruit compote.

I remember hearing in college, from Professor Jyl Lynn Felman, that race is fluid. I remember thinking that was an insane statement. You couldn’t change your race, I argued. I couldn’t decide I was Black any more than a dove could choose to become a tiger. The class discussed for quite some time the definition of the word “race.” Our definitions ranged from those found in the dictionary:
1. any one of the groups that humans are often divided into based on physical traits regarded as common among people of shared ancestry.
2. the fact of dividing people, or of people being divided, into such groups
3. a group of people sharing a common cultural, geographical, linguistic, or religious origin or background.
4. a group of living things considered as a category

To our own interpretations based on experiences:
1. “Race” refers to physical differences that groups and cultures consider socially significant, while “ethnicity” refers to shared culture, such as language, ancestry, practices, and beliefs.
While the sociology majors defined race this way:
1. Sociologists define race as a concept that is used to signify different types of human bodies. While there is no biological basis for racial classification, sociologists recognize a long history of attempts to organize groups of people based on similar skin color and physical appearance. The absence of any biological foundation makes race challenging to define and classify, and as such, sociologists view racial categories and the significance of race in society as unstable, always shifting, and intimately connected to other social forces and structures.
My brain hurt. How could race be socially constructed? Either a person was made of one race, or another, right?
And then professor Felman said one word that forever changed my closed-minded view of race. She said “holocaust.”
“One day”, she began, “you are walking down the main street of your town and you are German. Your race is Aryan. Your race is German. Your race is whatever is accepted. Jewish is your religion. And then the next day, you are told that your genetic make-up is different than that of your neighbor and now ‘Jew” is a race. Boom, your race has changed. It was fluid. And sadly, able to be defined by someone else.” This is what Whoopi Goldberg missed in her statements about the holocaust. She stated about the Holocaust, “But it’s not about race. It’s not. It’s about man’s inhumanity to other man.” There has been backlash against Ms. Goldberg directly following her statements and she has not only apologized, but used this mistake as an opportunity to reeducate herself about the Holocaust and educate herself about the entire idea of race. While I am deeply saddened that her original statements occurred on such a large screen, I am incredibly proud of and grateful to her for sharing her lessons learned on as many screens as she can, as well.
In the story of Purim that will occur soon, we see another case where Judaism is seen as something that needs to be hidden in order for a person to survive and rise in society. While we may all be aware of Mordecai’s monotheistic statement that he will not bow down to evil Haman because Jews only bow down to the one true God, that’s not at all what Purim is about. Mordecai and all the other Jews surely bowed to King Ahasuearus. Our tradition teaches that Mordecai wouldn’t bow to Haman because Haman was a descendant of Amalek, sworn enemy of the Israelite people in the bible. Interesting sidenote, but Purim isn’t about that either.
There is no mention of praying to God in the book of Esther. In fact, God isn’t mentioned even once. Neither is the god or gods of the Persians. Judaism isn’t seen in the story of Purim as a religion, but rather as a people, as a race. Jews are compared to Persians, not to Zoroastrians (as their religions would have them be called). And Mordecai is even referred to as “of Jewish stock,” (Esther 6:13) a clear reference to race.

Esther remains silent. She, even as a Jew herself, at first refuses to come before the king and declare racism. It takes Mordecai, convincing her that even she will not survive this ordeal, to make her finally stand up and call out Haman’s actions and the king’s implicit agreement for what it really is, racism and antisemitism.
Today, we are not only seeing a rise in antisemitism around the United States and the world, but we are also seeing a rise in people remaining silent about it.
Race is fluid, a social construct. But when the vocal few find us Jews a race or a people when it suits them, (The hostage taker in Texas demanded to speak to Rabbi Angela Buchdahl or Central Synagogue in New York City, because he wanted her to use her Jewish influence to secure the release of a terrorist) and yet not a race, also when it suits them, (That same hostage situation in Texas was called “not antisemitism” by the FBI because “the attack was focused on an issue not directly related to the Jewish community.” (https://www.independent.co.uk)), that fluidity and social construction is never more evident. Let us not forget that the first person to ever call us a “people” was Pharoah, who then used that to enslave us for 400 years.
Judaism is a people, a socially constructed race, a religion, and even a way of life. If we want to survive and thrive, we must claim and cling to all of those definitions. We must stick together. And, like Esther finally learns at the end of her own story, we must speak out before it’s too late.

Tu B’Shevat this year falls on January 17th. This year it shares its date with Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Here in America, Tu B’shevat makes no sense. I admit it. It’s the New Year of the trees, when we celebrate the beginning of the blossoming of the buds, the young sprouts first emerging from the soil, the entering of spring. And it’s in January. The trees are bare, the blossoms are non-existent, the ground is frozen, and we are still facing the cold prospect of February. In America, Tu B’shevat makes no sense. Martin Luther King Jr. Day, while Dr. King was still alive, was just another day. It had not yet gained the power it has today. Unfortunately, Dr. King had to fight for what we celebrate and commemorate on that day. It didn’t yet exist in his lifetime. Martin Luther King Jr. Day comes to celebrate freedom for all, civil rights, peace amongst the races, and unity in our country. That’s what Dr. King preached. It’s what he peacefully fought for. And sometimes, sadly, we celebrate the day bearing his name knowing that it has not come to fruition as he would have hoped.

Back to Tu B’Shevat for a moment. I remember my two years spent in Israel. Israel, the country where all the Jewish holidays fall into place. In my mind, Israel has two seasons: “Oy! It’s so hot and dry!” and “Oy! It’s so cold and wet!” The Hot and dry season lasts from Passover to Sukkot – exactly the amount of time we spend praying for dew in our G’vurot prayer. The cold and wet season lasts from Simchat Torah back to Passover, gradually getting warmer and dryer starting – you guessed it, around January. I was lucky enough to live through these seasons in Israel twice. Let me tell you, when it rained for the first time in months on Erev Sukkot and people danced in the wet streets, it truly felt like Sukkot. And I vividly remember walking to my school, Hebrew Union College one day in January. The incredible cold spell had just finally lifted so I was able to walk (albeit briskly) wearing my autumn jacket. As I walked, I took a deep breath, enjoying the day’s warmth. I happened to glance at the grass next to the sidewalk. And there it was, by my feet, in the middle of January, the first tulip sprout gingerly poking its head out of the ground. I looked up and saw an almond tree, the first tree in Israel to blossom, with its beautiful light pink and white blossoms. “Wow,” I thought, “what a perfectly beautiful day.” Then it struck me. I looked at my calendar. Yep, today was Tu B’Shevat.

I stopped in my tracks. I stopped my feet, I stopped my breathing, I stopped my thoughts. I just stood there, in the middle of a sidewalk in Jerusalem and breathed in the fragrance of the almond blossoms. I soaked in the light of the January sun. I unzipped my coat and felt the warmth of the New Year of the Trees come to life as it had never done for me before.

Back to Dr. King. We can make his day of memory meaningful too. Not by waiting for trees to bloom, but by making relationships blossom. By confronting that part of ourselves that is falling short of his vision and by learning how to better connect with our fellow brothers and sisters. This year, on January 14th, please join me as we celebrate Tu B’Shevat and Martin Luther King Jr. Day at a very special Shabbat service. And during the week before, please look out in your emails for information on a program about diversity where you can actually take part in changing the damaging racial perspectives still raging today. Make a difference just by attending and opening your hearts to truth.

This year, when the Winter winds whip through the bare branches of the trees and when the moon greets us at 4:30 in the afternoon, I will remember Tu B’Shevat in Jerusalem. This year, when snow covers the ground where the tulips will one day appear, and my long down coat is wrapped around me, I will remember Tu B’Shevat in Jerusalem. I will close my eyes and return to where Tu B’Shevat makes sense. I will smell almond spices and feel the warmth of the sun. And I will endeavor to share that feeling with all I meet. I pray for all of us to have the strength to see us through this winter again and hopefully blossom into a beautiful spring. May Tu’ B’Shevat herald in that time of rebirth and renewal.

A television series titled Picket Fences ran on CBS from 1992-1996. David E. Kelly, producer and writer of Chicago Hope, Ally McBeal, Boston Legal, The Practice and others also created this one. Mr. Kelly writes wonderful dialogue with intelligent banter and entertaining plots. Picket Fences was his first show. In my opinion, the name itself coupled with the point of the various plots of the shows, earns it the title as his most brilliant look into the human psyche.

Picket Fences takes place in the small town of Rome, Wisconsin. Jimmy Brock, the main character is the sheriff of the town. His wife, Jill, is the town doctor. They have three children, a perfect house with a spotless lawn and, you guessed it, a white picket fence. As a matter of fact, most houses in the town have white picket fences and, on the outside, the homeowners’ lives seem perfect.

However, a lot happens in this town. As the plot centers around the sheriff and the doctor, most stories revolve around puzzling illnesses or crimes. Some more memorable episodes involve cows mysteriously giving birth to humans, a mass of murdered bodies found in freezers, and spontaneous human combustion. Mr. Kelly went to great lengths to prove that picket fences do not make a perfect community.

The white picket fence has become the symbol of the American dream. And yet our new vinyl siding, beautifully maintained flower beds and white picket fences only give us a false sense of purity. Those expensive opaque blinds simply conceal our true emotions, our real-life blemishes – anger, disappointment, greed, gluttony.

A quick google search on picket fences comes up with “outdoor shower hiding behind a white picket fence.” People today believe that we can hide anything behind a white picket fence. And in the same way, we hide behind our outer appearances. Manicures, pedicures, make-up, expensive yet uncomfortable shoes, stiff yet “flattering” clothing – we hide our flaws behind this structural equipment. And we spend way too much time working on them instead of working on the issues inside.

No matter how thick the siding, how white the fence, or how beautiful the flower beds; if the inside of the house has turmoil, it will seep outside. The family cannot maintain health on the outside, if, on the inside, there is pain. It is the same with our bodies. No matter how perfect the hair or make-up; no matter how muscular or athletic, if the mind and the soul are in chaos, the body will cease to function appropriately.

I am not advocating ignoring your siding, lawn, fence, or bodily needs. On the contrary, I believe that sometimes cleaning up the outside can prompt a deeper cleanse. However, only tending to our outward needs is only doing half the job.

In the book of Samuel, chapter 16 verse 7, God speaks to the prophet Samuel saying, “For God sees not as humans see: humans look at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart.” We are not God, but we are commanded to be Holy. Parents teach their children to “not judge a book by its cover.” Judaism teaches the same in its own way – “Al tistakeil b’kankan, eileh b’mah she-yesh bo – Don’t look at the bottle, rather, look at what is inside.” Teachers instruct students to treat everyone fairly, not by what they wear or how tall they are. Clergy preach about equal rights for all regardless of race, ethnicity, or other outward signs. And yet, we all fall victim in some way or another to disbelieving what we ourselves teach. The more we fall apart inside, the more we attempt to gain control over the outside. The vicious cycle is soul-deadening.

We must strive to see ourselves as God sees us – from the inside out. Once we shine that light inside of us to an illustrious gleam, it will radiate such light and warmth, it will overshadow any broken boards of our picket fences, any dull pieces of old siding, any physical blemish we fear. God knows, our souls are pure, our faults are real and true, for we are only human. But to become divine, we must look inside, not out – for that is where the holiness lies.

Rabbi Jaimee Shalhevet

I never expected to be stepping into the role of President at North Shore Synagogue. I think of all those who walked this path before me, each one with their own dreams and plans for the future. And now, as I enter this role after one of the most unprecedented years of physical and emotional struggles, I bring my own dreams and plans to continue the legacy of North Shore Synagogue as the congregation looks for support and meaning in their membership. At this time, I do not have the answers. What I do have, is hope.

“Optimism is the belief that things are going to get better,” writes Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l. “Hope is the belief that we can make things better. Optimism is a passive virtue; hope is an active one. It takes no courage to be an optimist, but it does need courage to hope.”

I hope we can all be active in our vision for North Shore Synagogue.

“Hope is the ability to combine aspiration with patience; to be undeterred by setbacks and delays; to have a sense of the time it takes to effect change in the human heart; never to forget the destination even in the midst of exile and disaster.”- Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l

I hope we can all be patient with one another. To reach out and ask for what we want in order to get what we need.

During this past year, we have welcomed new children and grandchildren and have lost many – some too young and some with fully lived lives. None without sorrow and many with additional challenges of going through life cycle events during a pandemic. This year has reminded us of the importance of being a part of a community during tough times. I participated in Zoom shivas that helped the bereaved feel connected to community members who also joined. We met relatives and friends near and far and made an impact with loving conversations about those we’ve lost. We laughed together at comedy and mind-blowing magic and mentalism nights and learned a lot about wine and cheese and cooking for Jewish holidays. We continue to have the opportunity to work together to impact what comes next. I am grateful for the efforts of everyone involved with keeping our synagogue operational during this past year. The office staff, the maintenance staff, Nursery school staff, Hebrew School staff, B’nei Mitzvah training staff, and the Board of Trustees and many of our committees worked at providing a strong connection and very much needed support to our community.

As the President, I will try to do everything to ensure that each member feels valued and connected to North Shore Synagogue. Our Rabbi, Cantor, Executive Director, Board of Trustees, and I are committed to supporting the congregation and our community — through tried-and-true programs, as well as new initiatives. These initiatives may include outreach, congregational engagement, new lifelong learning programs and innovative ways to re-engage our youth. I am optimistic that through these efforts, we will continue to grow our congregation and support the members who have shared their lives at North Shore Synagogue. I want to hear your needs, suggestions, and ideas for our congregation. I am asking anyone who wants to participate in any Board committees or synagogue activities to contact the office or myself, and we will work diligently to make it happen. The best way to reach me is by email president@northshoresynagogue.org.

July 20th will be our inaugural Golf and Cocktail Party Fundraiser at Muttontown Country Club. I hope to see many of you for fun, reconnecting and a live auction with raffle prizes, etc. Golfers and non-golfers are welcome! Bring your family and friends!

Thank you to our outgoing President, Larry Henin; our Rabbi, Jaimee Shalhevet; our Cantor, Mariel Ashkenazy; our Executive Director, Jacquelynn Golub and everyone on the Board and in our building for getting us through this most challenging year.

Signing off, as I always will, wishing you well, with the Yiddish phrase my grandparents instilled in me: “Zei Gezunt” (Be Well).

Beth Bucheister

President

As I write this message, we have just recently completed our High Holy Day season. The High Holy Day season does not end with Yom Kippur, but rather also includes, Sukkot, Sh’mini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah. It’s quite a run. And when it ends after Simchat Torah, we enter into a month called “Mar Cheshvan.” It’s really just called “Cheshvan,” but the word “Mar” is added before it because it means “bitter.” This month is called “Bitter Cheshvan” because it is the only Jewish month that has no holidays in it at all. As I sit here writing in Mid-October as we enter Cheshvan, the next Jewish holiday we will celebrate is Chanukah. And that seems lightyears away.

So, I thought, “let’s get prepared for Chanukah.” You know what though? We can’t in the way we used to. And this has of course become the mantra of our day. We can’t plan for things in the future because we don’t know what the future holds. Where will we be COVID-wise? Where will our social distancing rules and mask-wearing mandates stand? Where will the economy be? Will everyone in my family be healthy? Will we be able to see each other and be near each other?

There are so many questions, that it seems near impossible to plan for something that is two months away.

And yet, do we ever know the future?

Ask anyone whose future changed in a split, unexpected, second. Anyone who won the lotto. Anyone in a devastating accident. Anyone who discovered they or a loved one had a terminal disease. Anyone who passed an entrance exam they didn’t expect to. There is a yiddish saying, “Mann Tracht, Un Gott Lacht,” meaning, “Man plans, and God laughs.” Now, in the seriousness of our current situation, I do not believe that God is laughing, but the point of the saying is that we never really know what to expect from the next month, day, or sometimes, even the next moment.

And yet, the same religion that gave us this handy quote, also urges us to prepare, that is, to plan, for that very unknown future. We are supposed to gather oil for this upcoming holiday of Chanukah. Oil is not quick to make, so we are supposed to begin creating and gathering it long in advance of the holiday with the assumption that it will come and we will be around to celebrate it. We are supposed to plant parsley on Tu B’shevat in order that it should sprout and grow strong enough to harvest for use on Passover, five months or so later. We don’t know for sure that the parsley will take root. We don’t know that it will be ready at exactly the correct time. We don’t even know what Passover will be like and, in ancient days, where we would be when this pilgrimage holiday fell. But we are commanded to prepare anyway – to live “as if.”

And so, in today’s very fragile, shaky, and unpredictable world, we must keep moving forward as if it were a commandment from God. Because it is.

I will plan for Chanukah. I will plan for in-person possibilities. I will plan for virtual possibilities. I will plan for everything I can think of in between. For whatever it is, I will plan. And God may laugh. But that’s ok. God will be laughing with us, not at us. For our perseverance is part of why God chose us. Our stubbornness to continue to plan in the face of dire uncertainty makes God smile, and keeps us alive and around.

As the leaves change colors and fall to the ground, The Byrd’s “Turn! Turn! Turn!” plays on loop in my head. Inspired by the text of the third chapter of Ecclesiastes, we are reminded of the ebb and flow of our universe, as well as our existence. The text also speaks to matters beyond our comprehension; the ways of nature created by God. We can try to prepare ourselves, organize, plan, etcetera, but in the end, there are simply matters over which we have no control. As we read in verse 11, “He (God) has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”

While some may find the text of Ecclesiastes discomforting in its assertion about our lack of control, we can also view it as reassuring. There is always a balancing of nature, a give and take, and that in of itself is something we can rely on. I believe Pete Seeger captured this essence in his interpretation of the text, as the verses of “Turn! Turn! Turn!” are punctuated are with the refrain of the same words. The words represent constant movement, but yet comfort us and ground us in their melodic predictability and repetition.

As the days grow shorter and darker, we enter into the ebb cycle of our seasons. In autumn, we gather the last of our harvests and try to make the most of it, stretching it through our times of need. Ways that are lost on most of us now, like canning and preserving food, were once so critical to our ancestors who faced food insecurity in the winter months. And while it may seem foreign to us now, it is a part of nature; we watch as birds fly south for better living and animals enter into hibernation after much preparation for sustenance in the dearth, until it is time to come out to greet the sun. We pray that we too emerge from the winter to a spring of renewal and rebirth.

This year has been difficult for most of us. Accustomed to the rhythms of our lives, we experienced a disruption to our previous ways of being and living, abrubtly confronted with uncertainty instead. As we learn from Ecclesiastes, no matter what we face now, whether it be good or less than good, it is only temporary.

In the darkness of our lives, we know that it will get better, that light will come; and I think this is where most of us find ourselves right now. Psalm 126:5 reminds us that “those who sow in tears, will reap in joy.” Our time is coming.

Whenever I prepare to marry a couple, I ask them many questions. One of which is always, “Where do you see yourselves on your 10th anniversary?” I ask this because I loved when this question was asked of me by the rabbi who officiated at my wedding. Well, this year, I celebrated my 13th wedding anniversary. When I got married 13 years ago, I’ll tell you what I did NOT write. I did not write that I saw myself in 10 (or 13) years living through a worldwide pandemic, struggling to decide whether my children attended school in person or online, and wearing a mask just to buy groceries. But you know what? There has been so much in my life that I didn’t expect. So many things in my future that I did not foresee:

In my teen years, I was in a car accident that left me with permanent injuries.

My first born was born during Hurricane Sandy. And we couldn’t take him back to our house because there was a tree in our kitchen.

My daughter was born with two dislocated hips.

My youngest son needed surgery during the second week of his life And will most likely need medication for the rest of his life.

These are just a VERY few of the things I NEVER saw happening. They were all hard at the point that they were occurring. And they all changed my life in some way. Also, in each of these situations, I felt utterly alone or at least pretty unique and I found myself somewhat envious at times of people that weren’t going through these situations.
But this time is different. True, I am going through something I never expected, foresaw, or can even believe most of the time. But this enormously important difference this time, is that I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am not alone. I know this not only because my family is going through this crucially challenging time, but also my town, my city, my state, my country, my world. There is not one person I know or know of, that is not struggling for normalcy in this bizarre time in which we live.
And that makes an enormous difference. It used to be that when someone asked another person, “how are you?” The accepted answer was “fine.” We would often hide our difficulties in order to connect with the person with whom we were conversing. Now, I find that when we’re on many of our zoom meetings, people are honest. “How are you?” is met with “I’m having a hard time.” Which then yields the response, “me too.” It’s strangely a breath of fresh air to acknowledge that none of us are really ok. But knowing that we are all in the same boat somehow makes it a bit easier to deal with. So, yes, this is unbelievably hard. And, as I sit and write this bulletin article in August, I have no idea what September will look like when you read this. But I am sure of one thing. No one will be alone. We will be in it together.
I wish us all a new year where we find health and peace,

Rabbi Jaimee Shalhevet