Let me ask you 4 questions!
1. How did we eat so much?
2. ⁠Why am I finding Matza crumbs in every nook and cranny of my house?
3. ⁠Will my washing machine survive the many loads of linen it must disgorge?
4. After so much shopping, cooking, cleaning and preparation-how did it pass so quickly?
You may feel the need to remind me that the season of asking 4 Questions has passed, no pun intended.
But I am loath to see it go, so I am holding on to this modality for just a little longer.
Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi teaches us about these feelings.
After major holidays we seem to feel this sense of sadness.
It’s a hard time as we separate from the family time that was so much fun and so connecting, it was a time of creating such closeness.
And just like that, it’s over, with only the Matza crumbs and linens to tell the tale.
We also experienced a spiritual closeness. As we engaged in the holiday we shared wisdom and inspiration and teachings we learned and had the opportunity to share.
That experience provided hope and uplift.
And now it’s done.
How do we “climb back up on that hope”?
This week’s Torah portion is called Acharei Mot, which means after the death, details the aftermath of the terrible loss Aaron the High Priest experienced with the loss of his two sons.
It is a huge disappointment at the beginning of a time of potential closeness with the dedication of the Tabernacle.
At this time, Aaron is taught that he may not enter the Tabernacle at his own whim.
This seems to be a rejection, a further removal or distancing of any closeness.
Not only has Aaron lost his precious children, he also seems to be suffering rejection by Gd as well.
It seems to add insult to injury. But then the Torah explains in the next verse how Aaron will be able to enter the Holy of Holies in the Tabernacle-when he will do the prescribed service, offer prayers and once again create close connection.
It seems that Aaron will first feel that he is lacking, but when he will engage in the service of connection he will receive the key to enter.
One may feel the lack of closeness, but don’t give up, try knocking on the door until it opens.
This coming Shabbat, the one immediately after Passover, there is a custom to bake one’s challah in the shape of a key.
Here is a hack to achieve the same result, take a key, wrap it tightly in silver foil, and bake it into the Challah.
Another hack is to buy frozen dinner rolls and place them in a round pan, a few rolls surrounding one in the center, bury the key in a roll and Voila-Key Challah!
Either way it can surely be the source of questions from the children, remember we are trying to hold onto that Passover feeling!!
Some sprinkle poppy seeds on the Challah to remind us of the manna that began falling in the desert at around this time.
This custom reminds us that our sustenance is unlocked by a Divine source. We need to earn our bread but there is nothing like the vagaries of earning a livelihood to remind us of the need for heavenly assistance.
Rabbanit Yemima adds another dimension.

Passover is around the corner.
The Seder will take place on Monday night.
The MO of the Seder is questions and answers.
It’s really a conversation.
All the interesting customs we practice are only in place to elicit questions.
Here’s a good question -
Do you like Matza?
It’s a conundrum.
Some people wait all year to eat Matza.
It’s a treat and a delight.
Others do not like Matza at all. It’s dry and difficult to eat and digest.
Those who feel that way have to make the best of the situation.
Funny how the same Matza can evoke such a range of feelings.
That happens to mirror the nature of Matza itself.
Matza is called “the bread of our affliction”.
This refers to the fact that the Jewish people ate Matza in Egypt and it came to reflect the terrible suffering they experienced during that dark time.
Matza is also called the “bread of our redemption”.
This description is given to the Matza as it is the bread the Jewish people ate when they left Egypt. The Exodus happened so quickly there was no time to wait for the bread to rise so they took Matza with them and it became the symbol of the Redemption.
So which is it?
It’s both!
How can it be both?
Here’s another question.
Do we use one piece of Matza at the Seder to memorialize these two aspects?
The answer is - Yes.

Day 188
Passover is just around the corner.
I do not say that lightly.
I certainly do not say that to frighten you.
I say it to myself, so I can get into the proper frame of mind.
A little secret.
I have a bit of Passover Paranoia.
Let me explain.
When my parents married they moved to Tokyo, Japan where they lived for five years.
Talk about living in exile.
My newly married mother barely knew how to boil an egg.
She was way ahead of her time and was the editor of a science newspaper.
So cooking was not her forte.
She went on to become a fabulous chef, but that came later.
Making Passover in Tokyo was full of challenges, but my Mom prevailed.
My Father zl, was so impressed with her efforts and promised her that once they returned stateside, she would not have to make Passover again until she volunteered.
She never volunteered!
So for my entire childhood and until we had our 4th child (on Passover) we went to a hotel for the holiday.
When you observe preparations from a young age, they become second nature and deeply ingrained.
But I never saw my Mom make Passover.
Therefore, doing all the Passover prep as an adult has always left me a bit anxious.
I have to remind myself that
a. I can do this
b. It is well worth the effort
c. I can make it a positive experience.
These are some of the steps I need to take to get in the right head space and take on the challenge with joy.

Day 181
It’s hard not to scream.
Our natural reaction to the challenges, the ongoing losses, the lack of support from the world community - it makes you want to scream.
This week’s Torah portion, once again so timely, teaches us how to react in moments of tragedy.
The portion, entitled Shmini, which means the eighth, speaks of the celebration of sanctifying the Tabernacle.
There were eight days of sanctification, and on the eighth day, the height of spirituality, a tragedy occurred.
Nadav and Avihu, two sons of Aaron the High Priest, themselves priests or Cohanim, brought a strange fire into the Tabernacle.
Due to their elevated spiritual status and the intense holiness of the day, their action was punishable by death.
The two sons of Aaron the Cohen, died tragically at the time that should have been the pinnacle of joy.
The Torah records the reaction of Aaron, the bereaved father.
He was silent.
Sivan Rahav Meir and Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi share some incredible insights into this tragic incident and share wisdom with us for our present situation.
The day Aaron’s sons died was a holy day, a joyous day.
So too, October 7 was Simchat Torah, a holy and joyous day.
And so many of our children died.
Pure and holy children.
How do we respond?
Aaron was silent.
This is not because he has no words. Aaron was the orator.
He was the one chosen by Gd to speak on behalf of Moses.
But here he has nothing to say.
He makes space for silence.
This is hard for us to fathom.
We are challenged by silence.
In fact, they are called uncomfortable silences.
It’s hard for us.
We feel the need to keep talking.
We have so many questions and we need answers.
But here Aaron is silent.
Yet this is the most talked about silence ever.
It was a thunderous silence.
One born of faith.
It raises the question for us, why are we so uncomfortable with silence?
When a person is sitting shiva for the loss of a loved one and people come to comfort the mourner, there is a Jewish law regarding the conversation.
The mourner needs to speak first. Until the mourner says something and opens the conversation, the visitors are supposed to sit quietly.
Not talk.
Just be there with the mourner.
Give the mourner space and just give the gift of support and presence.
Without talking.
The Torah teaches us that to help people heal we should be quiet.
“Silence is not an empty void, but a language of its own. We need to hear it’s profound voice.”
There is a renaissance of a Chassidic movement called Breslov. One of its main messages is that of quiet, personal introspection.
This allows one to pause.
It permits quiet, and moments not filled with constant tittle tattle that allow us to hear and perhaps truly listen.

“Joe Lieberman, one of the highest-ranking Jews in American politics, a pro-Israel senator and Al Gore’s running mate (and vice-presidential candidate) in the 2000 election, has passed away. It is important to remember Lieberman’s unique voice within the Democratic party, which stood in sharp contrast to the opinions voiced by some party members today.
 But I would like to focus on his other very significant, non-political legacy.
 Amongst his many accomplishments, he wrote a book entitled
The Gift of Rest: Rediscovering the Beauty of the Sabbath*.
 Lieberman said that he had written a book about Shabbat because he wanted to communicate to young Jews around the world that they don’t have to give up their heritage in order to achieve the highest levels of professional success. In fact, he claimed, the opposite was true. His Sabbath observance, especially in the middle of an election campaign, only strengthened people’s admiration for him as a man of principles and integrity.
 He also wanted young Israelis to understand this too: that on Shabbat, he wasn’t “the honorable Senator,” and not even Joe, but Yosef Yisrael ben Chanan, his name when he was called up to the Torah.
 In his book, Lieberman describes how listening to the Shabbat Torah reading was especially meaningful for him because he knew that he wasn’t listening to another political speech but to the words of Gd. He writes how during the three Pilgrim Festivals (Pesach, Shavuot, and Succot), the Jewish people would travel to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, but we have the opportunity each and every week to welcome the Holy Sabbath directly into our kitchens and living rooms.
Perhaps the most powerful line of his book: “When they ask me: How can you interrupt your work as senator to observe Shabbat every week? I respond: How could I manage to accomplish all the work I do as senator six days a week by if I didn’t stop to keep Shabbat?”
These words are a paraphrase of Sivan Rahav Meir’s words about Joe Lieberman.
Senator Lieberman’s thoughts about the weekly Torah portion are inspiring as they reflect our weekly pursuit to plumb the Torah, authored by Gd, for nuggetsof wisdom, which can inform, enhance and direct our lives.
This week’s Torah portion is Tzav, which means to command.
It refers to the fact that Aaron was commanded regarding the various offerings and sacrifices to be brought in the Temple.
The first service of the day that the Priests were to accomplish would be the removal of ashes from the day before.
During the day, the Temple was a beehive of activity as sacrifices were being offered on the Altar.
After the day was completed, the detritus of the sacrifices, the ashes, would accumulate on the Altar.
So the first order of business, the housekeeping so to speak, involved removal of those ashes.
We know that the Torah messages are eternal, and we know that sacrifices are no longer being brought, so what can we possibly learn from this process?

The holiday of Purim is almost upon us. This coming Saturday night and Sunday, we celebrate the reversal of the decree of annihilation that was directed at the Jewish people.
The story of Purim took place in the Persian empire in around 350 BCE. The King Achashverosh threw a lavish party to celebrate his success. In the midst of a drunken rage, he orders the Queen Vashti killed. When he sobers he realizes he is alone and begins a nationwide beauty pageant to find a new wife. Hadassah aka Esther, is brought against her will to the palace. She doesn’t reveal her Jewish identity. Despite her desire not to be the Queen, her beauty captivates the King and she is chosen. Her uncle Mordechai tries to watch over her from the palace gates. His refusal to bow to honor the King’s trusted advisor Haman provokes Haman to such a degree that he plots to kill the entire Jewish nation. With genocide looming, Mordechai requests that Esther plead the case of her people. When things could not look any bleaker, and destruction of the Jews is inevitable, there is a complete turnaround.
Mordechai who was destined for the gallows is feted, led through the crowd on the king’s horse, being heralded by Haman himself. The gallows that were erected to hang Mordechai, become Haman’s final destination, and the war against the Jews, the one that is meant to do them in, becomes a victory battleground for the Jews and many non Jews actually convert out of awe for the Jewish people.
It’s a complete turnabout.
The time that was meant to be full of mourning, becomes a time of joy and celebration.
Everything is upside down, in the best way possible.
May the Purim miracle of sorrow turning to joy, the turnabout and the upside downness of despair to joy, become our new reality.
Everything is quite upside down now.

This week’s Torah portion is Vayakhel, and it describes in great detail the building of the Tabernacle and all its vessels.
If this seems highly familiar to you, you are correct.
You are not experiencing deja vu!
This is actually happening in real time.
The Torah, which prizes every word and is famous for its brevity now repeats the entire story again.
All the details which had been written regarding the dimensions of the Tabernacle are now repeated.
It’s quite puzzling.
The Sages answer that the first rendition refers to the instruction to build and the second one describes when it actually took place.
Rabbi Aaron Lichtenstein shares an interesting take to explain this unusually verbose text.
He gave an allegory of a bride and groom who went shopping together for their new home. They spent hours deliberating over each piece and imagining the loving life they would live around those physical objects.
Each decision was a labor of love.
Then something horrifying happened.
One of the couple betrayed the other.
The upcoming nuptials dissolved into bitterness and anger.
After many months of hurt and suffering, the one who had betrayed the other reached out to try and repair the relationship.
And so began agonizing months of therapy and work to try to repair the fractured relationship.
And then the wedding was rescheduled.
If you are pragmatic, you might wonder whatever happened to that furniture that was so lovingly chosen.
Someone had returned it all.
As the couple prepared to reunite, the furniture selection loomed before them. This time however, they bought things quickly as the memories of the first time still remained as a painful reminder of a different time. They had moved on, their relationship was at a new level, but innocence was lost.
Rabbi Lichtenstein writes that human beings can forgive each other, but it is not easy to remove the scars of past wounds. A healthy relationship will require looking careful at those wounds and finding the tools to address them.
But Gd is different.
Gd says that when we repent, even if we have committed the most egregious of sins, we can return to the former level of our relationship.
The Jewish people had sinned with the Golden Calf, a sin which is likened to one of a couple betraying the other under the chuppah, the marriage canopy.
The relationship almost floundered.
Gd was going to destroy them.
But through the intervention of Moses and repentance, Gd forgave the people.
And once Gd forgave, it is a complete forgiveness.
So when we are ready to discuss the details of building the Tabernacle, Gd is once again sharing all the details to show in the words of Rabbi Taragin who shares this piece from Rabbi Lichtenstein, Gd’s excitement, so to speak.
“The details matter to Him now, just as they did before.”
An important insight into the relationship we have with our Creator. The circumstances do not effect our relationship, just our intentions.
If we repent.
All is truly and completely forgiven.

This week we will read the Torah portion called Ki Tisa.
It speaks of the travesty of the golden calf.
Let’s provide the context.
The Jewish people received the Ten Commandments.
All the Jewish people were present.
The only mass revelation in human history.
Gd spoke (so to speak) and everyone heard.
The experience is a sensory overload for the people.
Moses goes up Mt Sinai by himself to receive the Torah and it’s commandments.
Moses was on the mountain for 40 days and 40 nights.
Just as he was about to return to the Israelite camp, Gd informs him that the Jewish people have created an idol in the form of a golden calf.
This was a horrifying piece of news.
Apparently the people had miscalculated the time of Moses reentry and when he tarried, they assumed the worst, that he would not be returning at all.
In their panic over the loss of their leader, they erected an idol and announced that this was the gd of Israel.
Gd informs Moses that this is a sin of epic proportions and the only solution was to destroy the Jewish people and begin again with a new people who would descend from Moses.
This is no idle threat.
When Gd had decided previously that the world was irredeemable, he let loose a flood, destroyed everything, and began again with Noah and his family.
There is dialogue that then takes place between Gd and Moses as Moses tries to advocate on behalf of the Jewish people and save them from destruction.
Gd says they are not worth saving because they are a stiff necked people.
That appellation is an odd one.
Why does it make the Jews worthy of destruction?
Having a stiff neck means you can’t look back.
A person who is proverbially stiff necked does not look back at the mistakes they have made and therefore cannot look from what is behind them.
If one cannot learn from mistakes, then one is doomed to repeat them.

It’s day 139!
Rachel Goldberg, devoted mother of hostage Hersh Goldberg Polin, said today was an exceptionally hard day.
I don’t know the particular circumstances she is referring to in her comment. But Rachel has been fighting like a lioness, unearthing every strength that she has in the fight to save her son.
She doesn’t want him to be forgotten.
She wants to make sure we still see him before our eyes. He may not be with her physically, but he has not disappeared.
She wants him home now.
It’s an odd phenomenon that sometimes we may not see something or someone, but they are still very much present, in our hearts and minds.
This week’s Torah portion is Tetzave, which means to command. It begins with Gd telling someone, “and you shall command”.
The subject of the verb is not identified.
But we know that it’s Moshe, Moses.
Gd is commanding Moshe regarding the clothing that the priests are to wear when they are involved in the Temple service.
Strangely enough, even though we know that it is Moshe being addressed, he is not identified by name.
In fact his name is not mentioned once in the entire Parsha.
Since Moshe’s birth, until his death, he will be mentioned numerous times, 600 times to be exact.
But not once in this Parsha.
He seems to have become invisible.
In this portion, there is great detail shared about the uniform of the High Priest.
One of the items he wears is a coat that has an edging of pomegranate-like decor interspersed with bells at the hem.
That meant every time the High Priest would walk, the bells would jingle, heralding his arrival.
He was by no means invisible.
The commentaries give various interpretations to the purpose of the bells.
They were there to serve as an instrument of communication, here comes the High Priest.
This would allow those he would be encountering to prepare themselves to meet the holiest person of the Nation.
They would straighten up their ties and their posture in anticipation of meeting such an august individual.
Another explanation is that the bells were for the High Priest himself, to ensure he would prepare himself properly, create the frame of mind needed, as he was entering into a meeting with Gd.
He was about to participate in an exalted service and he needed to be present, not invisible, as he entered into a relationship with the Divine.
Nachmanides, 12 th century commentator, makes this discussion very relevant.
He teaches us that we learn from the bells that herald the entrance of the High Priest and alert those of his arrival, that we too must be sensitive when we are about to enter into an exalted place.
Before entering a royal palace, the heralds blow the trumpets, and before we enter into our own homes, which is a palace in miniature, we need to announce our entry.

This week’s Torah portion is called Terumah. This was the first capital campaign in history.
And it was a success!
Gd wanted to create a permanent place where Gd could “dwell” so to speak, among the people.
The Tabernacle, or Mishkan in Hebrew, was meant to be the central point of the Jewish people. The encampment of the nation would be set up with the Mishkan in the middle to signify the centrality of Gd in our lives.
It would be a place where one could elevate oneself spiritually.
The Mishkan served this purpose and then it’s function was carried on later in history in the Temple in Jerusalem.
Nowadays, our places of worship and our homes are the spaces we can connect spiritually and continue our journey through the desert of life.
What was the goal of the campaign?
The Mishkan was a work of art. It’s vessels and the uniforms worn within the Tabernacle by the priests were made from 13 types of raw materials which were donated by the Jewish people.
All these items needed to be collected.
The materials included precious metals, such as gold, silver and copper. Different types of materials such as linen and animal skins were amongst the items needed, as well as acacia wood, and precious gems such as diamonds.
This campaign was a fundraiser’s dream.
The donations came in fast and furious and all the needs were quickly addressed.
All that was needed to construct the Mishkan had been given.
One of the types of animal skins that were donated were the tachash skins.
There is a difference of opinion (what a surprise) as to the nature of the tachash.
The Targum, the traditional Aramaic translation of the Torah, says the tachash was a sasgona. This is a conjugation of two words. Sas and Gona. This means that it was an animal that was sas, which means happy, regarding its gona or gevanim, which means it’s many colors.
Apparently, this was a multi colored animal that joyfully appreciated the various hues of its skin.
The Midrash goes on to explain that this unusual animal was a large, wild, kosher animal that had a single horn, (unicorns are in the Torah!) and it’s skin was made of six colors and it was very large.
Rashi, the super commentator, teaches that Gd created the tachash for the sole purpose of being used in the coverings of the Mishkan. Therefore it existed during the time building of the Mishkan and then it disappeared.