Esther Tauby – Jewish Independent

Pesach’s lessons for today

Israel’s Escape from Egypt, illustration from a Bible card published in 1907 by the Providence Lithograph Company. (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

We begin Passover – which starts this year on the night of March 30 – with two seders, and invite family, friends and guests to celebrate the holiday with us. At both seders, we eat matzah, to recall the swiftness of our ancestors’ departure from Egypt, maror (horseradish) to commemorate the bitterness of the slavery in Egypt and charoset, which resembles the mortar our ancestors were forced to use to build pyramids for Pharaoh. The 15 steps of the seder (order) are our way of retelling the tale.

G-d Himself rescued His beloved children from their bitter situation. As written in the Haggadah, “Vayotzeeaynu Hashem Mimitzraim, lo al yiday malach, v’lo al yiday saraf, v’lo al yiday shaliach, ela haKadosh Baruch Hu bichvodo uviatzmo” – “G-d brought us out of Egypt, not through an angel, not through a fiery angel and not through a messenger, but it was the Holy One blessed be He, He Himself in His glory.”

The Israelites had spent 210 years in Egypt, which was an agricultural country, where the soil was fertile, irrigated by the Nile. Our commentaries teach that Pharaoh didn’t want anyone to see him taking care of his bodily functions, so he would go to the Nile early in the morning then return to the palace. He guarded his power with brutality. We recall the birth of Moses and his early life in a basket on the Nile, saved by Pharaoh’s daughter, Batya (the daughter of G-d) and his rise to life in the palace of Pharaoh.

One of the most striking features of the Exodus was the Israelites’ faith in the promises of G-d. They were an entire nation, men, women and children, numbering several million, who willingly left a prosperous and well-settled country, whose pagan values had already left their impression on them, to venture on a long and dangerous journey without provisions, but with absolute reliance on the word of G-d, as spoken to Moses.

Even more, they didn’t follow the familiar and shorter route through the land of the Philistines, which, although it involved the risk of war, was far more attractive than the prospect of crossing a vast and desolate desert. In war, there is a chance of victory and, even in defeat, there is the chance of escape, but, in a desert, with no food or water, nature allows no chance of survival. Yet they followed this route, disregarding rationality and trusting in the word of G-d.

Why did they do this?

This question is echoed in every generation. In the contemporary, materialistic and competitive world, where we all struggle for economic survival, how can we exempt ourselves from its values? How can we adhere to a code of precepts that restricts our actions? The answer lies in the Exodus from Egypt.

In that time, when Jews responded to the call of G-d, disregarding what seemed reasonable, breaking with the values of their Egyptian environment, it transpired that the path they took was the path of true happiness, spiritually in receiving the Torah and becoming G-d’s Chosen People, and materially, in reaching the Promised Land, flowing with milk and honey.

So it is today and always. Through the Torah – the Torat Chayim, the Law of Life – and the mitzvot (good deeds or commandments), a Jew attaches themselves to the creator of the world, and frees themselves from all “natural” limitations. This is still the way of happiness.

Wishing you a happy, kosher and enjoyable Passover, wherever you find yourself in the world. If you find yourself traveling, or even here in Metro Vancouver without a place to celebrate, there are Chabad Houses where you can commemorate our ancestors’ freedom from Egypt at a joyous and meaningful seder. Chag kosher v’sameach.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor. She wrote this article using excerpts from the letters of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

The beauty of the light

(photo from flickr.com/photos/scazon)

The sky turns shades of orange and mauve as I glance outside my dining room window and notice the sun slipping behind the trees. The havoc and chatter in the house has peaked. I call my daughter to come and light the Shabbat candles with me. It’s time. Eighteen minutes before sunset.

We light the candles, nine for me, representing each of our family members, and one for her. We cover our eyes and circle the flames three times with our hands as we say the blessing that ushers in the holy Shabbat. “Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav, v’tzeevanu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat kodesh.” (“Blessed are you, G-d, our Master of the Universe, who has sanctified us with His mitzvah, and commanded us to light the candle of the holy Shabbat.”) Instantly, the chaos subsides and peace and serenity reign. It’s visceral, and a mystery to me how it occurs every Friday evening.

The Shabbat candles warm the atmosphere of the Shabbat table. Their soft glow draws us in. All week, we run from home to work and school, activities and errands that fill our days. Many of us do not share meals or spend time together at all!

Only on Shabbat do we have the opportunity to have precious moments with family and share meals, discuss our week’s events, share Torah thoughts and stories of the parashah, to enjoy each other’s presence as well as that of our Shabbat guests.

Shabbat, the seventh day of the week, is the gift that G-d has given us in order to reconnect with family and friends, and teach us, by His example, to rest as He did after creating our beautiful world for us in only six days. We reconnect with our G-dly souls and recharge our batteries for the busy week ahead. We pray at home and in a synagogue and get a special spiritual feeling as we connect to G-d and our community.

We also have Chanukah, an eight-day festival of lights, falling yearly on the 25th day in the winter month of Kislev. Chanukah recalls the Jews’ victory, with a small army, over the huge Greek army in the second century BCE. It also commemorates the miracle of the tiny bit of light, enough to burn for one day, which lasted for eight days, until the rededication of the Temple was possible after the struggle.

The Shabbat candles are placed inside our homes, while the Chanukah candles are placed so they can be seen from outside our homes. Why the difference?

On Shabbat, we are supposed to enjoy and benefit from the holy glow of the Shabbat candles as they shine over the beautifully set Shabbat table, with its white tablecloth and lavish settings. It is the main attraction for those fortunate to have a place around the table.

On Chanukah, we are forbidden to use the light of the menorah for any practical purpose. As the Chanukah candles melt, we are not supposed to do any housework at all. Only after they’ve melted, can we celebrate the miracle of the oil with food and games.

From this, we can extrapolate an essential difference between Shabbat and Chanukah. Shabbat is for us, the Jewish people; it nourishes and reinforces us weekly. Chanukah reaches beyond the warmth of the home to light up the darkness of the outside world. It reminds us not to be afraid, even in the harshest times. And Chanukah candles teach us to stand up and speak out for those who do not possess this strength. This feeds a pride that transcends ego. This is our proud Jewish heritage and our gift to the world.

As I polish my Shabbat candelabra, candlesticks and our family’s chanukiyah, I smile as memories of past Shabbatot and Chanukah celebrations mingle with anticipation. This year, Chanukah begins on the evening of Dec. 12 and continues until the 20th. Wishing you a very happy and festive Chanukah.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor.

Focusing on the miracle of the oil

For us to become a glowing menorah, casting light in and around us, and lighting up the world, we must be oil-like. (photo from Cinco Resources, Inc.)

The story of Chanukah takes us back to the year 164 BCE, two centuries before the destruction of the Second Holy Temple in Jerusalem by the Romans. Then, Israel was under the rule of the empire of Alexander the Great.

The Greeks, in the year 200 BCE, had a great impact on the civilization of the whole world and the Jewish people. Although the Jewish people were very strong spiritually, they were very weak politically and militarily. The spiritual strength was attributed to the men of the Great Assembly; great sages and their successors, the Tannaim (codifiers of the Mishnah). When Alexander the Great of Macedonia conquered the civilized world, he brought the Greek culture, language, thoughts, beliefs, philosophy, customs and modernization to the masses and these beliefs rapidly spread.

When Alexander conquered Palestine, he gave complete freedom of religion to the Jews. He abolished taxes on the Sabbatical year, when the Jews didn’t work the land. As well, he freed Jewish soldiers from duty on the holy Sabbath. Alexander the Great died at the young age of 33. After his death, Jewish nobility and upper classes began taking on Greek ideas and customs. Would you even guess that the words synagogue and sanhedrin (supreme Jewish court) are Greek words?

Greek culture, aka Hellenism, began to make a serious impact on Jewish life in the Holy Land. The great rabbis of the generation saw the dangers of the Hellenists, threatening the traditions and faith of the Jewish people and the Torah. Hellenists were springing up everywhere.

Eventually, King Antiochus Epiphanes set out to destroy the last remnants of the Jewish people. He decreed the death penalty for any Jew found abiding by the laws of Torah, for observing the Sabbath and holy days, for the reading and teaching of Torah or gathering in houses of prayer. The building of the Beit HaMikdash, the Jewish Holy Temple in Jerusalem, was changed officially into a temple for the highest Greek god, Zeus, and an idol was set up before the holy altar. Altars were also erected for the Olympian gods, and there were heathen altars. The king’s soldiers forced Jews to bring offerings to these idols and bow down to them in the cities.

The study of Torah was not only forbidden, but the Torah scrolls were destroyed and their owners burned at the stake. Parents who circumcised their children were killed and teachers of Torah were tortured for trying to perpetuate the forbidden Jewish religion.

King Antiochus had no idea that his attempt to eradicate the Jewish religion would have just the opposite result. Many Jews became strengthened in their faith. When they came to the city of Modiin, Mattityahu, the father of the Maccabees – named for the verse in Exodus (15:11), “Who is like you of the lords of Israel” – came out and killed a traitor who was offering sacrifices to a Greek god.

His experience inspired many miraculous victories, including the large military victory over the Greeks in the year 3622 (139 BCE). Thereafter, the enemy was cleared out of the land, and Jerusalem and the Holy Temple were liberated. The victorious Jews set out to destroy the idols and altars in the Holy Temple and the golden menorah was replaced with an iron-wrought one. This took place on the 25th of the month of Kislev and the rededication of the Holy Temple lasted for eight days, until more oil could be made and brought to Jerusalem.

One small bottle of olive oil with the high priest’s kosher stamp on it was found, which was just enough to last for one day and yet, miraculously, it lasted for eight days and the entire dedication ceremony, being used to light the menorah again in the Holy Temple daily. The prayer “Al HaNissim” – about the miracles – is recited in the Grace After Meals and also the Amidah prayer during Chanukah and recalls the many miracles that took place.

Judaism and Jewry were undoubtedly saved from one of the greatest dangers that ever threatened the existence of our people. It was a struggle not only of the few over the many, but of the holy versus the unholy and of Judaism and Torah over Hellenism. The forces of the Torah prevailed.

Why do we celebrate so much about the oil? The miracle of the oil would seem of minor significance relative to the military victory of the Jews. Had the Jews been defeated by the Greeks, there would be no Jews today, G-d forbid. If the oil wouldn’t have burned for eight days, the menorah wouldn’t have been kindled. Why then, is the main focus of Chanukah on the oil?

Many insights have been offered. A symbolic explanation follows that shows how oil has the same characteristics as a person. This is based on a letter written by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of blessed memory, before Chanukah 1947.

In writings of Jewish mysticism, all physical properties of an object are seen as continuations of their metaphysical properties. Every object originates in the realm of the spirit, embodied by a particular sublime energy. The energy evolves to assume a physical reincarnation, giving rise to particular physical characteristics that mirror their spiritual source. This is how a person ought to behave in their life. This, parenthetically, constitutes an extremely rich component of Judaism.

From the vantage point of Torah, the truths of science, physics, chemistry, biology, etc., and the truths of philosophy, spirituality and psychology, are merged together in a perfect mosaic, since all that is physical has a realm in the spiritual.

Olive oil contains four interesting qualities:

1. It is produced by crushing and beating ripe olives. The olive must be severely “humbled” and pressed to emit its oil.

2. Olive oil penetrates solid substances deeply – as do many other oils extracted from minerals, plants and animals. We know how difficult it can be to remove oily grease from our fingers and clothes. Oils have been used throughout history as remedies for bodily wounds, since oil penetrates the body far beyond its external tissue.

3. Oil does not mix with other liquids. When you try to mix oil with water, the oil remains distinct and will not dissolve in or combine with the water.

4. Not only will oil not dissolve in water, it rises and floats on top of other liquids. On a symbolic level, this appears paradoxical. Is oil humble or arrogant? It gets beaten badly, yet rises to the top.

These four qualities displayed by oil are essentially a physical manifestation of four spiritual and psychological attributes from where oil originates.

In our lives, we may attempt to become “oil-like.” How? By learning how to cultivate the four properties that characterize oil.

1. The crushing and pressing of the olives into oil represents the notion of humility. Seeing ourselves for who we really are, being open to discovering our biases, blind spots and errors, allows us to genuinely grow.

2. The direct result of this “pressing” is our ability to become oil-like, and affect others deeply. We can share ourselves with others and be in a real relationship. It takes courage to show up in the world with the “real you” and to then connect with other hearts profoundly.

3. Humility and genuine relationships must never allow one to be pulled down completely and dragged down emotionally. One must not forfeit their individual identity. The beauty of a relationship is the fact that two distinct individuals choose to share themselves with each other. Just like oil, you know how to feel and experience another human being meaningfully, while not becoming consumed by the other’s identity.

4. This threefold process of crushing yourself, bonding with others and at the same time retaining your distinctiveness, should ultimately cause you to rise, just like oil, to the top, and “float” above all that is around you. Realizing that you are a “piece of the Divine” (Tanya, Chapter 2) and that every moment you are a representative of G-d to our world, allows a person to experience themselves as indestructible, and wholesome. This comes not from arrogance, but from realizing that one’s soul is part of the infinite.

This is the deeper mystical significance of the miracle that caused the oil to last beyond its one day. It is also why we celebrate with a focus on oil, as this story captures the rhythm of our lives. For us to become a glowing menorah, casting light in and around us, and lighting up the world, we must be oil-like.

First, we must discover the art of humility and integrity; second, we must allow ourselves to show up genuinely in our relationships; third, we must retain our distinctiveness and individuality; and fourth, we must always recognize that part in us which is always “on the top.”

Judaism, particularly its festival of Chanukah, comes to teach ordinary human beings how to become oil-like. If we wish to ignite a heavenly radiance in our lives, we ought to take a good and deep look at the olive oil in our menorahs.

In that sense, oil embodies the essence of Chanukah, the Festival of Lights. Indeed, in many a Jewish household, the Chanukah lamps consist of wicks dipped in olive oil, replicating the Temple menorah lamps. Throughout the holiday, to commemorate the miracle of the oil, we eat various foods cooked in oil, including such delicacies as latkes and sufganiyot.

The following is a story I read recently.

In Brooklyn, N.Y., there was a Jew named Yankel, who owned a bakery. He told the story of how he survived the Holocaust. He said, “You know why it is that I’m alive today? I was just a teenager at the time. We were on a train, in a cattle car, being taken to Auschwitz. Night came and it was freezing, so deathly cold in that cattle car. The Germans would leave the cars on the side of the tracks overnight, sometimes for days on end without any food, and, of course, no blankets to keep us warm.”

Yankel continued, “Sitting next to me was an older Jew – this beloved elderly Jew – from my hometown. I recognized him but had never seen him like this. He was shivering from head to toe and looked terrible. I wrapped my arms around him and began rubbing him to warm him up. I rubbed his arms, legs, face and neck. I begged him to hang on. All night long, I kept the man warm this way. I was tired, freezing cold, my fingers were numb, but I didn’t stop rubbing the heat onto this man’s body. Hours and hours passed this way. Finally, night passed, morning came and the sun began to shine. There was some warmth in the cabin, and then I looked around the car to see some of the other Jews in the car. To my horror, all I could see were frozen bodies, all I could hear was deathly silence.

“Nobody else in the cabin made it through the night – everyone had died from the frost. Only two people survived: the old man and me. The old man survived because somebody kept him warm; I survived because I was warming somebody else.”

Yankel’s life was saved by and for assisting another human being.

When you warm other people’s hearts, you automatically warm yourself. Humans need each other and get elevated by helping and supporting others. When you seek to support, motivate, encourage and inspire others, then you discover support, encouragement and inspiration in your own life as well.

This is the lesson of the olive oil: to penetrate and make a difference in humanity and, in turn, this will empower us to do more, like the light of Chanukah, which increases every night of the festival. Beginning with one candle with its small flicker and increasing every night by adding one more candle, until the menorah shines its eight lights in total splendor and beauty.

May G-d help us celebrate this Chanukah with real peace in Israel and around the globe, and bring us the ultimate refinement of the world with the imminent coming of Mashiach. Then, we will all merit to light our Chanukah lights in the third Holy Temple in Jerusalem, the most beautiful and everlasting one.

Wishing everyone a joyous festival of Chanukah and a fabulous time with family and friends eating delicious latkes and doughnuts, playing dreidel and singing Chanukah songs. Chag sameach!

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor. She offers many thanks to her husband, Rabbi Avraham Tauby, for his help with research for this article.

How we pray to G-d

This year, Rosh Hashanah begins on the evening of Oct. 2. On the first day of the holiday, we read the Haftorah that tells us the story of Chana the prophetess, who prayed to G-d for a child. She prayed softly while whispering. Eli, the high priest and leader of the Jewish people, thought she was drunk, as this type of prayer was foreign to him.

She replied, “I’m not drunk, I’m praying for a child!”

Chana prayed to G-d and told Him, through her prophecy, that her child would be an important person in the Jewish nation. This, in fact, came true. Her wish was fulfilled, her son Samuel was born, and he became one of the greatest prophets of the Jewish people.

Chana’s method of prayer is used as the basis for all the Jewish laws of prayer. As well, the rabbis of the Great Assembly instituted the text of the prayers throughout the year based on Chana’s manner, specifically for the Amidah prayer of 18 blessings, called Shmona Esray, which is recited quietly while standing. This prayer is also said with deep concentration, as we are standing in G-d’s presence.

But there are also times when our hearts need to open up and scream out loud for what we need or want in our own words. G-d wants us to open our hearts to Him and give Him our emotions. Every day, all year long, each prayer we recite brings us closer to G-d. Every prayer we recite is immensely valuable if said with sincere feeling. When we need something and feel that only G-d can help us, we shout out to Him as we do when something hurts us physically.

Prayer is immensely powerful, especially when recited as a kindness for others. Our sages taught that if a person prays for a friend, they fulfil the biblical commandment (mitzvah) of performing kindness. If one is in the same situation as their friend and prays for their friend, they will be answered first.

There is the story of a farmer who went to his synagogue on Rosh Hashanah but couldn’t read at all. Being illiterate, he just wrapped himself in his tallit and stood shaking and screaming like a rooster, as that was the only way he knew how to express himself from the heart.

Our sages also taught that G-d receives more satisfaction from a single Jew praying than He does from the millions of heavenly angels who sing His praises day and night.

On Rosh Hashanah, there are many prayers we recite from the special prayer book, the Machzor. One of these is the Avinu Malkeinu prayer that means, “Our Father, our King.” This moving prayer lists our shortcomings and our needs as we plead for mercy from two perspectives. One is that G-d is our father who loves us and provides for us, so how could we be ungrateful to Him? The second one is that G-d is our king, who has absolute power over us and to whom we owe total allegiance, so how dare we challenge His authority?

Nevertheless, He always remains merciful. Therefore, we take the courage to approach Him from both aspects in our time of helplessness. If we deserve His mercy, let Him be tender as a parent and, if not, let Him judge us as necessary cogs in His empire. When the world sees G-d’s concern for His errant people, His glory becomes elevated and we become closer to Him.

We also listen to the shofar on Rosh Hashanah, which symbolizes the depth of our emotions that come out in a cry. It, too, is a form of prayer, an emotional outburst to G-d. There’s a simple message on Rosh Hashanah, that when we cry from the heart, someone listens! That’s the message of the shofar on Rosh Hashanah. When words end, the cry of the shofar begins. It is the sound of our tears. Tekiya: the call without words that surrounds all the shofar’s cries. Shevarim: a series of three sobs. Teruah: nine sighs, with which we ask G-d for His forgiveness.

May G-d hear all our prayers and supplications and grant us a healthy and prosperous year. May He hear all our prayers, silent and aloud, and fulfil them so that we will merit to hear the shofar of Moshiach imminently. Please G-d we will see real peace in Israel and all over the world.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor.

Celebrate Shabbat, Pesach

One look, and it’s clear – it’s springtime in Vancouver. It is no accident that Passover is celebrated at this time of year. (photo from Alex Kliner)

This year, Passover begins on Friday night, April 22, and continues through Saturday, April 30. The first seder is on Shabbat and the second is on Saturday evening. What is the significance of this?

Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam or Maimonides) was born on the eve of Passover in 1135 in Cordoba, Spain. He writes that, on the night of the 15th of Nissan, it is a positive commandment of the Torah to relate the miracles that transpired with our forefathers in Egypt. For it is written, “Remember this day on which you went out of Egypt.” The meaning of “remember” here is similar to that which is written about Shabbat: “Remember the day of Shabbat.”

The Rambam explains, at the beginning of the Laws of Shabbat, that resting from labor on the seventh day is a positive commandment, for it is written, “On the seventh day you shall rest.” The fact that the Rambam begins the laws with the positive command indicates that the main aspect of Shabbat observance lies in the positive aspect. Shabbat is a weekly occurrence, when we take a break from our work and enjoy time with family and friends at home and in synagogue, as we focus on the spiritual aspects of the day.

By connecting the tale of the Exodus on 15 Nissan to the remembrance of Shabbat, the Rambam is indicating that, with regards to relating the events of the Exodus, the main aspect is the positive step of becoming free. So, the obligation to relate the story of the Exodus involves not only the recalling of our release from slavery, but the recounting of how we became free. The Haggadah adds that an individual is obligated to feel as if they themselves had just gone out of Egypt.

As Passover approaches, the Torah instructs us that this festival of liberation should always be celebrated in the spring – Chodesh Ha’aviv, the month of spring. It relates that, on the day of Rosh Chodesh Nissan (the head of the month of Nissan), two weeks before the deliverance from Egyptian enslavement, we received the first mitzvah: sanctification of the new moon, whereby the first day of each month is sanctified as Rosh Chodesh, in conjunction with the molad (rebirth) of the moon as it reappears as a narrow crescent.

Together with this came other details of our Jewish annual calendar. Our calendar is based on the lunar year (12 lunar months), coupled with an adjustment to the solar year by the insertion of an additional month every two or three years, making a leap year, consisting of 13 months, as we just marked with the months of Adar I and Adar II. In this way, the accumulated lag of the lunar year relative to the solar year, 11.5 days, is absorbed. This requirement and the necessity for Nissan to fall in the spring, the time of the Exodus, is vitally important, so all our other Jewish festivals also occur in their proper season; for example, that Sukkot takes place in autumn.

On Rosh Chodesh Nissan, G-d instructed us, the Jewish nation, about the Passover sacrifice and the laws of the festival of Pesach, which is also known as the Festival of our Liberation. This was deliverance from our physical slavery from ancient Egypt. However, given that the instructions in the Torah are eternal and valid at all times and wherever Jews live, in every generation, the Festival of our Liberation is also freedom in a spiritual sense; that we might be liberated from our limitations and leap over our everyday shackles.

How? By focusing our energy on our being free and thanking G-d for allowing us to be able to use our minds to release ourselves from any obstacles we may face. Also, by remembering that G-d loves us so much that He Himself redeemed us, not wanting to send any angels to do this precious job for His suffering children. Due to His great love for us, He took us out in the spring, when the weather was favorable.

This Passover, in the Lower Mainland, we are fortunate to be able to see the renewal in the earth, as trees and flowers bloom and fruits blossom, the rainy weather that we have endured for months changes to sunshine and baby birds and animals are born.

May we enjoy this special Passover, which begins and ends on Shabbat, with family, friends and guests at our seders, yom tov meals and synagogue or Chabad House attendance. May G-d grant us, as the Haggadah concludes, “Next Year in Yerushalayim,” with the imminent coming of Moshiach.

Wishing everyone a special Shabbat shalom and a kosher and happy Passover!

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor. This article is based on talks that were given by the Lubavitcher Rebbe z”l.

Dreidel is more than a game

Dreidels for sale in Mahane Yehuda in Jerusalem. (photo by Adiel lo via commons.wikimedia.org)

“Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made it out of clay, and when it’s dry and ready, oh dreidel I shall play.” This children’s song has been sung for generations on Chanukah. A dreidel (Yiddish for spinning top; drey is Yiddish for spin) is a unique toy. It is still called by its original name all these centuries later and is enjoyed by children (and adults) of all ages the world over during Chanukah. It is also perhaps the oldest toy in history, but it is not only functional – it is wrought with symbolism.

In Hebrew, a dreidel is called a sevivon. It dates back to the time of the Greek-Syrian rule over the Holy Land, which set off the Maccabean revolt that culminated in the Chanukah miracle. Learning Torah was outlawed and was punishable by death. The Jewish children resorted to hiding in caves in order to study their beloved Torah. When Greek soldiers were on patrol and would approach them, the children would pull out their dreidels and pretend to be playing a game instead of learning. By playing dreidel during Chanukah, we are reminded of the courage of these brave children.

Dreidels generally do not require any maintenance at all. They are silent but strong. They are thrilled to be taken out every year for Chanukah from the cupboard to be a plaything, to see the sheer delight on the faces of generations of Jewish people who have survived so much persecution. They don’t mind if we touch them with our oily or sticky fingers, spin them endlessly, let them fall onto the floor repeatedly in our enthusiasm, smash them down mercilessly when we lose, throw them up in the air when we win, or spin them upside down to show off for our friends and family. They are so happy to be used for the eight-day festival, which this year begins on the evening of Sunday, Dec. 6, and continues until and including the last night, which will be on Sunday, Dec. 13.

Dreidels come in plastic, wood, metal and even crystal and are collector items, too. But, dreidels are not just objects to be admired and collected, they are actually used to play a game, which has rules. Players gather around a table and divide up a pile of items for tokens (coins, candies, peanuts, etc.). Players take turns spinning the dreidel to see how it will fall and then try to win the whole pot based on the turns. A dreidel has four sides and each side has a Hebrew letter: a nun, a gimmel, a hey and a shin.

After spinning, the top lands and the letter that is facing up determines what happens next. For nun, meaning nisht (nothing), you don’t do anything. For gimmel, meaning gantz (the whole thing), you get to keep the whole pot and then everyone has to put one item in to make a new pot. For hey (halb, or half), you get half of the pot and for shin (shtel arein), you have to put one in the pot. It boils down to having to give or take. It also gives us something to think about while we’re waiting for our next turn. Are we going to be givers or takers? Give: G-d gives us so much, so we can share with others this Chanukah (money, food, time, etc.). Take: we can take upon ourselves an additional aspect of spirituality (a Torah class, a mitzvah, synagogue attendance, etc.).

A dreidel is not a simple toy either, though. It is imbued with the blood of martyrs, the tears of the pious and the endurance of the faithful. No matter what material forms it, a dreidel is made of pretty tough stuff, just like us.

The letters on the dreidel spell out the Hebrew phrase, “Nes gadol haya sham,” which translates as, “A great miracle happened there” (meaning in the Holy Land). Israeli dreidels have the letter pey instead of shin to represent the word poh (here).

Aside from being a symbol of courage and a fun game, how does the small, simple dreidel embody the Chanukah message? What’s striking about the dreidel is that its “religious” aspect isn’t readily apparent upon looking at it. In fact, while it’s spinning, we can’t even make out any letters at all and certainly cannot make words out of the letters even when the dreidel stops. Its message is hidden.

Our lives are like a game of dreidel. In the course of our hectic day-to-day routine, we are often too busy to notice the “letters” – those small and big miracles that accompany us all the time. Taking a first breath upon waking in the morning, stepping onto the floor, being able to get dressed, being able to eat, pray, read the newspaper, drive to work and do all of the activities that we may take for granted in our busyness.

I like to think of the letters of the dreidel as modes of being. We all have our “gimmel” days, when we feel that everything is going great for us. Then there are our “hey” days, when things are going well but could be better. On the “shin” days, we spend time wishing for the hey and gimmel days. The “nun” days, when all the good things seem like a distant memory, we feel that we may never have another hey or gimmel day again in our whole lives.

Each of these letters though, represents only one face of the dreidel – a single perspective of the whole. Together, they spell out a sentence – and, every once in awhile, we have to give the spinning dreidel a break and reflect on its message, “A great miracle happened there.” This, of course, refers to the miracles of Chanukah that occurred in the Holy Land when the situation seemed beyond hope. The commitment of a few people turned the situation around (just like a dreidel) and brought about the miracle through G-d’s salvation. The Maccabees didn’t dwell on the fact that they were being oppressed and persecuted by an enemy larger and stronger than they were. They focused on the gimmel that was on the other side of the shin. They used this attitude to act to create a vehicle for a divine miracle.

It’s important to remember that whatever letter we seem to land on, it’s all part of one dreidel and that the dreidel has the message that miracles can and do happen every day. We can transform the dark situations of our lives into the bright lights of the Chanukah candles to help us battle the darkness. We only have to draw on the strength of the Maccabees, those brave children and the letters of the dreidel. When they fall, they get up, with a little help, and spin ecstatically over and over again.

After the terror we have seen over the past few months in Israel every single day, as well as the terror in Europe and all around the globe, we might think of how we can help during these horrific attacks on completely innocent civilians. In our physical world, there is the notion of cause and effect known as the “butterfly effect,” where a butterfly can flap its wings in one part of the world and cause a storm on the other side of the globe.

In a spiritual realm, a small positive action can push away and dispel much evil, as the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of blessed memory, said – a tiny light can dispel much darkness. How appropriate for us today. We can get involved in positive actions of any type wherever we find ourselves. This goodness will work to counteract the evil, even on the other side of the world.

We need not feel helpless at the terrible news we receive constantly, as there is much we can do through our positive actions. Let’s hope and pray that, as we say in the second blessing on the candles each night of Chanukah, “Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, King of the Universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time,” that G-d will continuously send us miracles and protection wherever we are in the world and wherever His protection is needed.

Chag samayach!

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor.

Shofar’s deeper messages

Among the coins and other archeological treasures discovered in a ruined Byzantine public structure near the Temple Mount’s southern wall in 2013 was a gold medallion (inset) inscribed with a menora, a shofar and a Torah scroll, reflecting the historical presence of Jews in the area. The items are thought to have been abandoned in the context of the Persian conquest of Jerusalem in 614 CE. Hanging from a gold chain, the medallion is most likely an ornament for a Torah scroll. (photos from Ashernet)

Fleeing the Nazis, the Pesten family found themselves adrift in some nowhere land in the Soviet Union, wandering through the mud of Uzbekistan, remembering all the adventures they had met since deciding to pack their bags and flee. They felt a yearning for home and some envy for friends who stayed. No one knew yet about the concentration camps and gas chambers. In reality, there was no time for longings or regret, as they had to wake up early every morning and search for food.

The woman of the family, Hanna, was worried. It was only a few days before Rosh Hashana and there was no food in their temporary home. She wasn’t only concerned about that. She was troubled that, in this remote place, they wouldn’t hear the shofar and its blasts of t’kia, sh’varim and t’rua. She would miss the holy shudder she always experienced in those exalted moments of the shofar blowing on Rosh Hashana.

The situation was not yet hopeless. She walked the long distance to the nearby town until she came to a massive garbage heap. She wasn’t deterred by the foul stench. She began to sift through the garbage for hours, although it seemed like an eternity. Would she even find what she was looking for?

The pounding of her heart increased by the minute until, with a broad smile, she pulled out of the smelly heap, the rotten head of a ram that had been slaughtered a few days earlier and was providentially still there.

The slender moon of the end of the month was slowly traversing the gloomy skies of Uzbekistan. The angels looked down from heaven in amazement at a tiny, frail woman, who was bent over, sitting on a low stool, cleaning a curved ram’s horn with a small metal wire as she quietly sang a melody of thanks to G-d. She kept scraping without stopping and without fatigue. Then, with tremendous effort, she finally managed to completely remove the inner bone from the shofar.

That year, the stirring sounds of the shofar blasts echoed through the narrow lanes of Uzbekistan. Due to Hanna’s devotion, the community of Jewish refugees merited that this beloved mitzva was not missed. (Story excerpted from Jewish Tales of Holy Women by Yitzhak Buxbaum.)

Thankfully, here in Canada, we don’t need to do what this brave woman did to hear the shofar. On Rosh Hashana, we only need to go to a synagogue, Chabad House or community gathering. This year is called the year of Hakhel (Gathering), which takes place every seven years after the year of Sh’mita, where everyone would travel to Jerusalem for the festival of Sukkot and be in the presence of G-d when the Holy Temples stood. This year, it is even more auspicious to gather together on the first days of the new Jewish year, which begins at sundown on Sunday, Sept. 13, and continues through Tuesday the 15th.

So, why do we blow the shofar on Rosh Hashana? The Talmud writes that G-d commands us to recite verses of kingship so that we may crown Him upon us, verses of zichronot (remembrances) so that He will remember us for good. And Rabbi Abahu adds that we blow the ram’s horn to remember the Akeidat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac).

photo - “Hebrew trumpet” from Italian Jesuit scholar Filippo Bonanni’s Gabinetto armonico (1723), which comprises some 150 engravings by Arnold van Westerhout (with the help of perhaps two other artists) of musicians playing various instruments from around the world — “Hebrew trumpet” from Italian Jesuit scholar Filippo Bonanni’s Gabinetto armonico (1723), which comprises some 150 engravings by Arnold van Westerhout (with the help of perhaps two other artists) of musicians playing various instruments from around the world. *(photo from commons.wikimedia.org)*

There are three physical acts associated with the shofar: there is the blowing of the air, the lips that touch the shofar and the physical shofar itself, receiving the air and producing a sound.

The air is known as the hevel (breath) of the mouth. What is this hevel? It’s not just air, it’s something much greater. A person blowing the shofar gives over his entire self, this is the self-sacrifice. What is being produced, however, is not my or the shofar blower’s air, but the sound of the shofar itself. In fact, the blessing recited is “Lishmoa kol shofar,” “To hear the sound of the shofar.” Although human air is producing it, we refer to the sound as coming from the shofar. The person blowing the shofar is not of prime significance, his breath is greater than his limited self.

Our sages explain that the shofar is produced by the hevel from the depths of the heart. The word hevel is comprised of the same letters as the word halev, the heart. When a person speaks, their hevel/breath is affected by the five motions of the mouth that are used to create different vowels. When the shofar is being blown, the mouth is not involved. When one speaks, it is their voice that is heard. With the shofar, there is something much greater going on, much deeper.

According to the Jewish mystics, the letters comprising the word hevel (and halev) represent the five books of the Torah. In lev (heart), the letter hay is equal to five, followed by the numerical value of the remaining letters of lamed (30) and vet (two). These are the first and last letters of the Torah. The hevel of the heart is so much more than words. The sound of the shofar can’t have anything added to it that will make it appear more beautiful – it is pure and is capable of bringing pure spirituality down from above.

The shofar is greater even than prayer. Rosh Hashana is called Yom T’rua, Day of Blasts, not Yom T’fila, Day of Prayer. Prayer may be straight from the heart, especially on the holy day of Rosh Hashana, the first day of the Jewish year, but it is our mouths that form the words. The breath of the shofar is spirituality; there is nothing physical intertwined with it.

We can ask, “Why do we need a shofar at all? Why do we not just shout out loud without uttering any words?” It is because we want to remind G-d of the great near sacrifice of our father Abraham and our patriarch Isaac to arouse G-d’s mercy on us on Rosh Hashana as He did for them. It is the Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashana.

We find in Pirkei d’Rebbi Eliezer that the ram, which our sages teach us was “caught by its horns in a thicket,” (Genesis/Breishit 22:13) is the one that was used. Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa adds that it was a special ram. Its skin was the belt used by Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet); its left horn was blown at Mount Sinai upon our receiving the Torah, while the right horn will be blown with the coming of the Moshiach. It will usher in a time of peace in Israel and throughout the world.

May we all be written and inscribed for a year filled with many blessings for our families and communities, “ktiva v’chatima tova.”

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor.

Matza: a symbol of humility

Matza and chametz are both composed of the same letters, except that matza is spelled with a hey and chametz with a chet. The only difference between a hey and a chet is that the chet is completely closed from three sides, while the hey has an opening on top. (photo by Yoninah via commons.wikimedia.org)

On Pesach, we are only allowed to eat matza, not chametz. What is the difference between chametz (leavened bread) and matza? How do they differ?

Matza differs from chametz in two respects:

1) With chametz, the dough rises, while for matza, the dough remains as is. In spiritual terms this means that chametz signifies arrogance, while matza signifies modesty and humility.

Matza is essentially lechem oni, the bread of poverty, of affliction (Deuteronomy 16:3 and Rashi’s commentary on this verse). Matza signifies humility, which manifests itself especially in lechem oni. The mitzva (obligation) to eat matza can only be observed with humility. The matza that the Israelites ate in Egypt was lechem oni.

2) The words matza and chametz are both composed of the same letters, except that matza is spelled with a hey and chametz with a chet.

The hey is similar to the chet. Both consist of three lines and are open from below. The only difference between them is that the chet is completely closed on the top, while the hey has an opening on the upper left side.

image - chet and het — The Hebrew letters chet and het.

The open side below (which chet and hey share) symbolizes that “sin crouches at the entrance.” (Genesis 4:7) The closure on both sides in the letter chet indicates that there is no escape from that fact, i.e., that sin crouches at the entrance. The opening on top, in the hey, indicates that notwithstanding this fact there is an opening above, indicating the possibility to leave one’s condition behind and to become a better person.

It is indeed no more than a small opening, but our sages teach us that G-d says: “‘Open for Me as little as the eye of the needle, and I will open for you like the entrance to a hall.’ For a single thought of self-improvement can change one instantaneously from an altogether wicked person into an altogether righteous person.” (Talmud Kidushin 49b)

These two differences between matza and chametz are interdependent. Where there is conceit and grandiose self-esteem, one doesn’t think of improvement. If there is humility, then, even if one may have stumbled, they will think of improvement. Where there is humility, there is no attempt at self-justification. Rather, one takes honest stock of oneself and, when finding improprieties within oneself, he or she will try to improve. With haughtiness, however, one will always find rationalizations to justify and excuse all doings.

Here’s a story to illustrate this point. When seeing a pauper, the one who seeks to avoid the mitzva of tzedaka will use the argument of Turnus Rufus (Baba Batra 10a), who asked of Rabbi Akiva: “If your G-d loves the poor, why does He not support them?” In other words, for reasons of haughtiness, if one accepts one’s wealth as one’s due and, in fact, feels that they deserve even more than what they already have, why then should they give away any of it? Arrogance doesn’t allow for the reality of another and, therefore, one may take it for granted that the other is not his or her equal. To this person, therefore, it is obvious that the other is poor simply because they don’t deserve any better. As it is surely the Divine Will that the other be poor, why then should one give him anything?

The humble one, possessed of humility, reasons differently.

a) He examines and judges himself whether he is essentially better than the other, and his self-examination leads him to give charity. It is written in Psalms 99:4, “You have done justice and tzedaka in Jacob.” That is, the justice, i.e. the self-judgment, leads him to tzedaka.

b) The humble one contemplates this possibility, but also notes that he himself has been blessed generously in spite of his own deficient status and condition. Thus, he is moved to conclude that we are as children of G-d. As these conditions relate to the mitzva of tzedaka, so, too, they apply to all good deeds.

This year, when we come to celebrate Passover at the festival seders, especially when we eat the matza, and when we are surrounded by our children, grandchildren and guests, we celebrate our people’s freedom from Egypt. Take time to contemplate the spiritual nature of matza, to be humble and feel the needs of our less fortunate friends, family and community members. We are celebrating, as well, the freedom of being able to go from haughtiness to kindness, from our limitations to our freedom. When we celebrate Passover this way, we will naturally feel happy that we are able to help provide what others need.

May this Passover prove to be an inclusive festival, where everyone will be able to rejoice and feel for one another. Wishing you a kosher and happy Passover.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, writer and counselor.

Finite and infinite light

How can we explain the mitzvah of the Chanukah light? What about two of its features? One, the lights are to be placed by the door of one’s house that is next to the street or public domain, and they must be placed on the left-hand side of the door. These features have deep symbolism: our tradition tells us that the “left hand side” and the “public domain” both stand for the realm of the profane; by placing the lights there, we are bringing the Divine light into the area of existence that is most resistant to it.

The mitzvah of the Chanukah lights is similar in two respects to that of the mezuzah: both have to be placed by the side of the door of a house or courtyard, and both must be set on the “outside.” However, there are also two differences between them. A mezuzah must be fixed on the right-hand side of the door, while Chanukah lights are to be set on the left. Though both are placed outside, in the case of the mezuzah, this is only to mark the entrance. Chanukah lights, however, are intended to illuminate the outside, the public domain. The mezuzah points inward, while the menorah shines outward.

These points of difference may, in fact, be connected. We learn that the public domain, rishut ha’rabim, literally the domain of the many, suggests the idea of multiplicity or a lack of unity; the left-hand side is the name for the source of life in which there is a separation and disunity. Public domain and left-hand side, therefore, are related, both symbols for the dimension of division and alienation from G-d.

Interestingly, the precept of mezuzah is said to be equal in importance to all the other mitzvot together; it is said to include all other mitzvot within itself. Indeed, almost all mitzvot share the two features that characterize the mezuzah: the idea of the right hand, and of being directed inward.

Most mitzvot are to be performed with the right hand. For example, burnt offerings were vitiated if they were not offered with the right hand. Certain commandments must be performed indoors, and it remains evident that those that may be done outside have no integral connection with the idea of the public domain, since they may also be performed indoors. In short, they have no connection with place at all.

The Chanukah light – occupying the left-hand side and intended for the outside – has a different character to almost all other precepts in Judaism. The difference between the mezuzah (and all other mitzvot) and the Chanukah light is analogous to that of positive and negative commandments. The positive are those that can only be performed with objects that belong to the domain of the permitted; the negative covers the (non-performance of the) forbidden.

Every performance of a mitzvah brings spiritual light to the world, in the form of Divine light. The light that is drawn down by the fulfilment of a positive mitzvah is of the kind that can be internalized in the act itself, clothed or contained within it. The act “clothes” the light in the same way as the body “clothes” the soul. A Divine light that can be contained in such a way is finite; it takes on the character of that which contains it, and cannot descend to the realm of the impure or forbidden.

The light that is released by the fulfilment of a negative command, however, is infinite. It cannot be contained by the forbidden (or indeed by any) act, nor does it share its character, so it can be released only by refraining. Only an infinite light can reach that far, into impurity, in order to be undimmed where it shines. The Chanukah light is of this infinite kind; it brings light to the left-hand side and the public domain, both symbols of impurity and alienation from G-d. However, Chanukah light goes even beyond the negative commandment. Recall that it is, in fact, a positive command. Chanukah lights illuminate and purify, rather than negate, the world of outside, just as a positive command purifies the world of inside.

This is the connection between the Chanukah lights and the Torah, which is also called “a light.” The Torah also specifies acts that are forbidden and things that are impure. Through studying the Torah, the sparks of holiness embedded in the realm of the forbidden are released and elevated.

The miracle of Chanukah is apparent not only in the fact that “for your people, Israel, You worked a great deliverance and redemption as at this day” – a deliverance from a people who were “impure,” “wicked” and “arrogant,” and despite their being “strong” and “many”; but also in the result that “afterwards, Your children came into Your most holy house, cleansed Your Temple, purified Your sanctuary, and kindled lights in Your holy courtyards.”

May each and every one of us recognize the beauty in the mitzvah of lighting Chanukah candles, and may we be blessed with a fun, delicious and wonderful eight-day festival.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, counselor and writer. This article is based on the talks of the Lubavitch Rebbe, OBM.

Divine plan in the works

The key to understanding the confusing global landscape of the 21st century is to recognize that there is nothing normal or logical about it. If you’re confused by current events and concerned with the recent surge of antisemitism and the war with terrorists in Gaza, you may think that you have lost touch with reality – or maybe it’s the rest of the world that’s gone mad. Scanning the news, it sometimes seems as if the world now supports the bad guys over the good. However, if you look closely, you can see the Divine hand at work, the work of Divine providence and intervention. Why would G-d intervene in this way? Would G-d ever cause there to be irrational support for evil in the world?

The answer to this critical question is that the Almighty seeks to maintain a balance of power in the world at all times. It is often difficult to appreciate the significance of events as they unfold. When we look at a majestic tapestry, we can admire the work of the weaver, but we cannot see the back of the tapestry, with all its loose threads and knots, nor can we see the hard work that the weaver put into it or the amount of time it took them to weave such a masterpiece. In this way, the hand of G-d majestically weaves a wondrous and deliberate pattern on the tapestry of Jewish history. In order for humanity to have free choice, however, there must be a balance of good and evil in the world. In fact, in the most mindboggling illogical world events lies the deepest Divine providence and order; the chaos provides the perfect backdrop and balance for free choice and its maximum impact.

G-d’s plan is nothing short of incredible. In recent history, He has returned millions of Jews to their homeland, even though we are surrounded by tens of millions of hostile neighbors. Just this summer, terrorists in Gaza fired about 4,000 missiles at Israel. There were just a few fatalities.

My parents (may they live to 120) who live in Netanya heard a few rockets over the summer, and were so grateful when they found out that those missiles drowned in the Mediterranean Sea in the middle of the night. My sister who lives in Kfar Chabad, 10 kilometres from Ben-Gurion Airport, told me that she woke up one day to find a commercial Swiss Air jet and a huge Air Canada plane rerouted to a field just two kilometres away from her home. The airport had been closed to international flights. Watching with her grandchildren, she described how the aircraft were taking off and landing half a block from her house. My nephew was a tank commander in Gaza and, thank G-d, he came home safely.

photo - Israel support rally at VAG on July 27/14 — The afternoon rally at Vancouver Art Gallery felt like a miracle in itself. *(photo by Shahar Ben Halevi)*

Given everything, it was miraculous that there were few Israeli fatalities. Nonetheless, most of us here in Canada felt helpless. However, Israel saw supporters gather in cities around the world. Here in Vancouver we had two rallies in just one day in late July to show our love for Israel and our gratitude to the soldiers of the IDF. In fact, the afternoon rally at Vancouver Art Gallery felt like a miracle in itself. Seeing my own sons with the Israeli flags draped round them and seeing them singing, dancing and being with community members from the Lower Mainland filled my and my husband’s heart with nachat. Holding up our posters and flags to cars driving by on Georgia, our hearts swelled with joy and pride. The sign I made and carried, the straw hat I wore with an Israeli flag through it, gathering with Jews and non-Jews in support of our homeland, I felt a true sense of unity.

What is our role in G-d’s plan for the world? How can we believe in G-d when there are so many things going on that we abhor? What can we do about it all?

Our role in this world is actually a mission that G-d gave all Jewish people. It is to join together in unity to create a peaceful and harmonious world. Some call this tikkun olam. If we’re worried about what’s happening in Israel, we can review some of the many thousands of miracles that G-d has made for us. In fact, we don’t need to worry, because G-d is in control, as we have seen so many times over these recent months. G-d has given each of us what we need to be able to fulfil our jobs in this world. We are called, “a light among the nations.” This means that we need to try to model ourselves as bright lights. How do we do that?

One way to do this is to teach by example. By making ourselves the best we can be and by helping our friends and families, as well. True, we can only have influence over those close to us, but we can engage them in doing mitzvot, for example, praying to G-d and saying psalms every day, including chapters 20, 130, 142, which are particularly relevant for our soldiers in Israel. Any mitzvah that we can do, big or small, can turn over any difficult times we may have. Doing mitzvot is the way we teach those around us to not feel helpless. On the contrary, we do mitzvot to feel special and important in G-d’s eyes.

Whether it be visiting someone who isn’t well, putting some coins in a tzedakah box, calling someone who may live alone and would appreciate a call, shopping with people who may be new to town and aren’t familiar with our city yet, the list is endless. That way, we are doing something instead of feeling helpless to change the situation.

Whether it be visiting someone who isn’t well, putting some coins in a tzedakah box, calling someone who may live alone and would appreciate a call, shopping with people who may be new to town and aren’t familiar with our city yet, the list is endless. That way, we are doing something instead of feeling helpless to change the situation. That is how we find our belief in G-d increasing and we can sleep at night knowing that G-d is the one watching over us and His whole universe that He created. Doing mitzvot also guarantees that we will retain our own goodness and not, G-d forbid, fall into wanting to take revenge on Israel’s enemies.

When we celebrate Rosh Hashanah this year, we can also ask G-d to give us the faith that we may feel we have misplaced. It is a wonderful time of year as we go to synagogue to pray to G-d for ourselves, family, community, and to feel connected to G-d who loves us so much, as a parent loves an only child. When we wish each other “Shana tova u’metukah,” we are offering everyone we speak to a wonderful, sweet New Year with all their wishes coming true for them. Our blessings to each other are precious and we get many mitzvot for offering them. Then our faith will shine through us as we make the world a better place. Our hearts will be filled with joy when we hear the 100 blasts of the shofar each day of Rosh Hashanah, as we know we are asking G-d to grant us a year filled with health, happiness and only good for us and all our sisters and brothers around the world. What a wonderful feeling that is.

Shana tova u’metuka, have a wonderful, sweet year beginning with an apple dipped in honey, and then enjoy everything sweet in your life this special year of 5775. Celebrate in your special way with family and friends. May G-d give you the strength you may need this year to accept your gifts from G-d in an open way.

Esther Tauby is a local educator, counselor and writer.