No Words

Pain. Anger. Grief. Sadness. Rage. Helpless. There are not enough or adequate words in the English language (or any other language) to communicate the feelings of much of the Jewish World in the last few days. With over 500 days since the hostages were abducted, we now got word that Shiri Bibas, along with two toddler sons, Kfir and Ariel, had been killed, and their bodies were returned in coffins to Israel. To make matters worse, Hamas conducted a sickening ceremony filled with ugly propaganda in handing their bodies to Israel. If anyone had any doubts about the death cult and sheer evil that Hamas represents, this should put it to rest. There are so many layers to this development and awful tragedy. From security, anti-terrorism, geopolitical intelligence angles, and more. There is also the spiritual dimension. There have been countless tears and prayers shed for the welfare of the hostages in general and the Bibas children in particular. Witnessing the Israeli babies being paraded in coffins was too sickening to bear. A fair question can be asked is what about all the heartfelt prayers? Were they all for naught? As a community of faith, we continue to struggle during these painful times with more questions than answers. In last week's Parsha, the Torah records arguably the greatest moment in the history of the world, the transmission of the Torah from G-d to the Jewish People. There is a bizarre statement recorded in the prelude to the big moment. The Torah states, “וַיֹּאמֶר הֹ' אֶל־מֹשֶׁה הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי .בָּא אֵלֶיךָ בְּעַב הֶעָנָן Translation: And G-d said to Moses, “I will come to you in a thick cloud, in order that the people may hear when I speak with you.” Why is it necessary to get a weather report in that it was cloudy when G-d spoke to Moshe? I would imagine everyone would prefer a clear blue sky rather than a cloudy day feel from London, but why is this remotely consequential? The Rabbis teach us that the notion of G-d appearing in a thick cloud has little to do with the weather but rather has to do with our ability to see the Hand of G-d during difficult times. The reality of Hester Panim, or the Concealed Face of G-d, is a bitter reality during certain periods in our lives. The challenge of attempting to see or feel the presence of G-d during a tragic time is real, but that doesn't mean He is not there for us. That is precisely the message of His appearing in a thick cloud. Even when there are storm clouds in our midst, G-d tells us He is there no matter the circumstances. As the Psalmist writes in Tehilim/ Psalms, גַּם כִּי־אֵלֵךְ בְּגֵיא צַלְמָוֶת לֹא־אִירָא רָע כִּי־אַתָּה עִמָּדִי. Translation: Though I walk through a valley of deepest darkness, I fear no harm, for You are with me. It's important to note that there is no assurance that no harm will occur. Instead, the assurance is that we will not be alone, even in the darkest periods. As we mourn the tragic passing of these holy souls, let us remember this powerful message. Have a Peaceful Shabbos, Rabbi Yaakov Fisch (Please note, this message was written before it was discovered that the body of Shiri Bibas was not returned)

A most important 20 Year Anniversary

Our shul just marked a most extraordinary milestone this week on March 13, 2025. While this date does not appear to have any extra significance, it was the 20th anniversary of our Daf Yomi class at Etz Chaim Synagogue. On March 13, 2005, I began (my first year here in my previous position as Youth Rabbi) to deliver the daily class on the timeless wisdom in the Talmud. The idea for this class germinated in conversation with Robbie Roth of blessed memory. Robbie was a leader and visionary in our community. (Although he passed away in 2010, the dividends of his dedication are still felt in many ways, most notable as he was the Founder and President of Torah Academy.) Robbie and I were part of a group from Jacksonville that traveled up to Continental Airlines Arena in New Jersey on March 1, 2005 (now called the Meadowlands Arena) for the Siyum Hashas of the Daf Yomi. The Siyum Hashas is the great celebration to mark the conclusion of studying the entire Talmud Bavli. During the festive music and dancing, the arena was filled with palpable energy with the excitement of Torah Study. Over the loud music, I heard Robbie's voice asking me if I would commit to teaching the Daf Yomi class, and I excitedly responded in the affirmative. For the last 20 years, men in our community have gathered for seven days a week during the pre-dawn hours to study this ancient wisdom. Over the years, I have been inspired by the many people who showed up to listen to me as I taught the hallowed passages that hydrate our thirsting souls. I am grateful to Robbie Roth and David Mizrahi of blessed memory for being part of the inaugural group. I have fond memories of Noberto Voloschin of blessed memory (passed away in 2015). Noberto did not ever study Talmud until the age of 80. He joined the year he turned 80 and never missed a day until his passing at the age of 84. In those four years, he managed to study over half of the entire Talmud. In our current group, I would like to pay tribute to Meir Cohen, who has been studying daily with us since 2007 and prepared so many special Siyumim over the years. I am also grateful to Rabbi Green, who now teaches the class on the weekends. The participants' wives and children deserve due recognition for their support and sacrifice as their husbands/fathers attended this early morning class. I am reflecting on the privilege of being able to deliver the class for 20 years. It has been a great run, and with the help of G-d, I look forward to many more years of connecting with community members to study this ancient wisdom. The more one studies, the more one realizes how much more there is to study and learn. The statement from the Talmud in Bava Kamma 92 reminds us, "When we were younger, we were considered to be men; now that we are older, we are considered to be children." I will be forever grateful for the opportunity to teach this class in our community! Have a Peaceful Shabbos, Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

The Naming of Purim

The name of the upcoming chag of Purim usually triggers memories of joy and happiness. People gather to read the Megillah, give gifts to the needy, send food packages to one another, and have a Purim feast with family or friends. The name of the day, Purim requires some understanding as it it is does not appear to be directly related to any of the four mitzvos of the day. The name Purim was selected as it states in the Megila for the following reason: עַל־כֵּן קָרְאוּ לַיָּמִים הָאֵלֶּה פוּרִים עַל־שֵׁם הַפּוּר עַל־כֵּן עַל־כׇּל־דִּבְרֵי הָאִגֶּרֶת הַזֹּאת וּמָה־רָאוּ עַל־כָּכָה וּמָה הִגִּיעַ אֲלֵיהֶם: “For that reason these days were named Purim, after pur. In view, then, of all the instructions in the said letter and of what they had experienced in that matter and what had befallen them”. In other words Purim was selected because of the lots that Haman drew is referred to as a “Pur.” The selection of the name of the Chag based on the “Pur” seems a little bizarre as there other compelling factors in the Purim story as how the Jews survived to see another day from the genocidal plot that was hatched by Haman. The Gaon of Vilna shares a powerful insight on this issue. He explains that the crux of the miracle was despite the well-laid plans of Haman, who carefully choreographed the genocide of the Jews down to the day it was supposed to commence, there was the hidden hand of G-d to upend this scheme. The larger message was that despite all the normal plans and preparations for our demise, the eternity of the Jewish People prevails. Mordechai and Esther instructed us to amplify this message of the enduring and unbroken Jewish spirit by celebrating this day every year. As we celebrate this special day, let us be mindful to reflect on our destiny as a people above any “Pur.” Have a Freilechen Purim and a Peaceful Shabbos, Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

Why, me?

Why me? Why, G-d, is this happening to me? These words are rarely, if ever, uttered when something amazing happens to an individual! For example, if someone gets a great promotion at work with an increased salary or gets married to a most special person, are these words uttered? The expression of "Why me?" or "Why is this happening to me" are reserved for what we perceive as cruel fate. Why do I have to deal with this particular hardship or painful experience? There are macro events on the global stage and micro events in our daily lives that cause undue stress. It is precisely at these moments that we may ponder the unfairness of our fate in life. Can we be honest with ourselves and recall if we had similar thoughts of "Why, me" during a truly wonderful moment in our lives? Perhaps subconsciously, I think we expect perfection in virtually all areas of life. When we receive blessings and good fortune, we attribute that to our hard work or exceptional talent. When things do not unfold that way, we are disappointed with G-d and others for letting us down. The disappointment leads to us living an existence devoid of happiness and joy. So many of us barely exist as we lament the terrible fortune and raw luck that life has thrown our way. The month of Adar and the Purim story can teach us much about attaining Simcha (happiness) in difficult situations. Our rabbis have taught us to increase our joy once Adar is here. So what is it about Adar and Purim that should trigger happy thoughts? After all, other miraculous events occurred in different months that don't call for happiness. The story of Purim is unique in the biblical context as it's the only book that doesn't mention the name of G-d. There was immense darkness during that era as a genocidal plot to exterminate Jews was hatched and nearly carried out. The heroes of the story, Mordechai and Esther, rose to the occasion at the right moments and demonstrated faith and bravery on behalf of their people. The Megila records that after the evil decree was averted, the Jews of that era experienced Simcha. On a superficial level, it means that they were happy and relieved that they lived to tell the tale. On a deeper level, the Simcha they experienced was internalizing this idea that the blessings and challenges in our lives are part of our life's journey and greater destiny. There were various critical moments in the Purim story that Mordechai and Esther could have easily stated, “Why, me?” Truly great people do not ask those questions, nor does it deprive them of simcha during difficult times. Especially in dark moments, we must realize that we are not the victims of cruel fate. If there is even one lesson to learn from the Purim story, I suggest that we remember that true Simcha does not mean having a pain-free life. True Simcha is a recognition that everything that occurs, good and otherwise, is there as tools to ultimately enhance our journey in life and bring us closer to our tikkun and destiny. Have a Peaceful Shabbos, Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

Donor Fatigue

As the Jewish Community grows locally and worldwide, it needs more funding to support a robust infrastructure for all the resources in our Kehila. The need for funding inevitably leads to more fundraisers both locally and globally. With the vast proliferation of smartphones and social media, fundraising campaigns around the world can be in your daily feeds and status updates. The Jewish Community is genuinely outstanding in its philanthropy and charitable giving. According to recent studies, American Jews donated an average of around $10,588 per household to charitable causes in 2022 (most recent available data). Jewish households generally give significantly more than non-Jewish households, with the average gift size over $2,500 higher. Following October 7th, American Jews donated a significant amount to Israeli charities, with Jewish federations across North America raising over $850 million for emergency relief campaigns focused on Israel. With all this tremendous generous giving comes a certain amount of fatigue. People are overwhelmed by the seemingly endless solicitations from organizations and causes that they might even value. There is a certain feeling of "here, we go again" whenever we hear about the next fundraiser. There are murmurings of "I am getting hit up again" and other phrases that probably cannot be mentioned in this column. There is a fascinating insight from this week's parsha that can offer a new perspective and opportunity for us to reframe the notion of giving particularly to communal causes. The context of this episode is that the Jewish People were charged with contributing to the first Capital Campaign in our history. G-d tells Moshe to instruct the people to contribute much of their resources for the construction of our first central house of worship, known as the Mishkan. The Mishkan was also known as the Tabernacle, and people contributed their precious metals, delicate fabrics, and specialty wood for this important communal project. It is striking that the actual language recorded in the Torah in the charge that G-d gave to Moshe was וְיִקְחוּ־לִי תְּרוּמָה. This is translated as "they shall take for Me a contribution." The language appears incorrect as people were asked to GIVE and it is being recorded and being given the opportunity to RECEIVE. The Rabbis teach us that, in fact, the language could not be more precise. The reality is that when someone contributes to a worthy cause, he receives something more significant in return. The person is receiving the satisfaction of knowing that he belongs to something much bigger and more meaningful than himself. The Talmud records the story of an antagonist who challenges Rabbi Akiva by asking if G-d loves the poor, why did He not just provide them directly with sustenance? The Sage responded that, of course, G-d could have provided (I am paraphrasing here) all the shuls, schools, kollelim, important causes in Israel, etc, with a fully funded budget that would not have any deficits and would never need to fundraise. However, there is one significant downside to that paradigm. We would not be allowed to give and receive merit. It is for precisely for that reason that the Torah states וְיִקְחוּ־לִי תְּרוּמָה or you shall RECEIVE for Me a contribution. A small number of people who contribute are in the habit of saying to the person who solicits them, "Thank you for the opportunity." In this fleeting world that we find ourselves in, it is genuinely a merit to be able to contribute to a worthy cause. The next time someone solicits us for a worthy cause, it would be appropriate to keep this in mind. Have a Peaceful Shabbos, Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

Disruptor In Chief

The notion of a disruption does not usually have positive associations. Disruptors generally cause disruptions and, for the most part, require some subsequent correction or tidying up. Recently, I was looking at someone's LinkedIn profile, and he listed "disruptor" as one of his positive qualities. This got me thinking as to why someone should be proud to be a disrupter. I looked into the issue and found that a disruptor can be positive if the individual actively challenges the status quo, questions traditional methods, and seeks to implement innovative solutions or approaches. Many innovative products in society are only here because some individuals are willing to be disruptors. As we are less than one month into the second Trump Administration, there is a vast gulf of opinions on whether this presidency is the greatest in history (let's redo Mount Rushmore) or if this is the biggest failure. There is one quality that all fans or foes would agree on, and that is that President Donald Trump is a disruptor. The disruptions have set up a dizzying few weeks of discussions on everything from buying Greenland to annexing Canada as the fifty-first state. (It's hard to imagine Tim Horton's coffee being an American product). The disruptor-in-chief took things to a new level with his bombshell announcement on Gaza. Up until recently, if anyone in Israel or elsewhere suggested even the voluntary emigration of Palestinians from Gaza, that would be considered absurd. I can't speak for others, but I'm not sure how many thought this proposal would ever come from the Whitehouse. While I am not a political pundit, and this is not a political op-ed, certain issues are bigger than politics, and in my mind, this certainly qualifies. While it is too early to tell if this idea is realistic or very distant from reality, the mere proposal has already changed the entire conversation. The focus of the conversation has become why neighboring Arab countries are not doing enough to help the Palestinians. Indeed, King Abdullah from Jordan felt compelled to announce this week on his visit to the White House that he was allowing 2000 children from Gaza into Jordan. This proposal (like it or hate it) represents fresh outside the box thinking. I have been reflecting that we can benefit from applying this fresh outside the box thinking to other areas of life. There are many areas of bottleneck in our personal, communal and professional lives that might benefit from a new perspective that has not been seriously considered. In our journey of life every once in a while, a little disruption may be a good thing. Have a Peaceful Shabbos, Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

The Price of Eggs

Egg prices are rising again. It seems surreal and borderline unbelievable how expensive the most basic staple of our diet has become. Some restaurants have begun charging a 50-cent surcharge for any egg one orders. In 2019 which seems like decades ago, a dozen eggs were less than $1.50. In the enlightened era of 2025, it is not uncommon to see eggs being sold for over $5.00 per dozen. This dramatic rise is just one example of why food prices, in particular, and the cost of goods in general, have skyrocketed recently. As the essential cost of goods and services continues to increase, people's salaries are not nearly keeping up at the same pace. The anxiety people have associated with Parnassah, or their material livelihood, is not a new issue and will continue to be ongoing until the end of time. Indeed, the prevalent Talmudic view is that even during the Messianic Era, humanity will continue to struggle with poverty and the challenge of bringing home enough funds to afford some food on the table. The Talmud famously says that "providing a person's food is as difficult as splitting the Red Sea." On a superficial level of understanding, this text is somewhat discouraging. After all, it is quite difficult for the sea to split. If earning a basic livelihood is equivalent to splitting the sea, then we are in serious trouble! I heard a fascinating insight on this Talmudic passage some time ago that provides me with a much better understanding. If one recalls the story of the immediate prelude of the splitting of the sea in this week's parsha, the Jewish people had their backs to the sea while the mighty Egyptian army aggressively pursued them. It appeared to be an imminent bloodbath of the nascent nation at the hands of the mighty Egyptian empire. As a people of faith, they cried to God for salvation. The people were praying for a miracle akin to a "David vs. Goliath" moment in which a vastly under-armed underdog defeats the favored heavyweight. They were not praying or hoping for the sea to split from behind their backs and open up a passage of dry land amidst the raging waters. The most dramatic miracle of the ages was equally unexpected in how it occurred. It could have only happened from the ultimate "Redeemer of Israel," who, in today's terms, is the ultimate in an "outside the box" manner and delivers unexpected results. The least likely possibility of the sea splitting behind them was orchestrated by the Redeemer of Israel. Similarly, in our pursuit of our daily livelihood, we often think that our breakthrough will come if a specific sequence of events were to occur. We must keep in mind that the ultimate Sustainer and Provider will deliver the results many times from the least expected source. Until that time comes, let's take a deep breath about the prices of eggs. Have a Peaceful Shabbos, Rabbi Yakov Fisch