The More Things Change, The More they Stay the Same.

"Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose". These words are from Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, a 19th-century French journalist. The phrase is loosely translated to English as “the more things change, the more they stay the same." These words have been taking up much of my headspace this week. As a new phase of the war between the USA and Israel vs. Iran unfolded, and we were reading the Megila on Purim in real time, it felt like deja vu. Not unlike Haman in ancient Persia, the modern-day Supreme Leader fit the role with his genocidal ambitions against the Jewish people. One of the most popular days in Iran for the past 40-plus years has been Al Quds Day. Quds Day or Jerusalem Day is held on the last Friday of Ramadan, and is an annual day of protest organized by the Iranian government against Israel. While nominally about Jerusalem, the Quds Day rally serves as a forum for regime figures to call for hostilities against Israel and the liberation of Palestine, envisaging the inevitable elimination of the “Zionist regime.” “Death to Israel” is a common chant at the rallies, often accompanied by “Death to America. One of the most popular areas that the Iranian regime designated in Tehran is called Palestine Square. In June 2017, coinciding with the annual Quds Day rallies, Iran unveiled a large digital clock in Palestine Square. The clock was programmed to count down from 8,411 days, corresponding to a 2015 statement by Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, who predicted that "Israel won't exist in 25 years". He claimed in his statement that there will be nothing left of the Jewish state by 2040. The statement was made in the aftermath of a September 2015 nuclear deal signed by a previous American administration with Iran. When news broke of the killing of the Supreme Leader and much of that leadership, it was uncanny as to how much it resembled the outcome of his ideological heir in the Megila. The Purim story, as it is well known, does not mention G-d, but His presence is felt everywhere. A turning point of the story is that after Mordechai implores Esther to go to the King and plead the case of the Jewish people, Esther implores Mordechai to gather the people in fasting and prayer. Between the diplomacy of Esther and the prayers of Mordechai, the tides were turned, and Haman met his fate. One of the blessings that we recite prior to the reading of the Megila is dedicated to thanking G-d for the miracles that were “בימים ההם בזמן הזה.” The translation is “in those days in our time.” While much has changed in the past approximately 2,000 years since the Purim story, much has remained. We continue to pray that “May the One who answered Mordechai and Esther in Shushan Habirah answer us.” ​ Have a Peaceful Shabbos, ​ Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

Hidden in Plain Sight

With Purim just around the corner, the usual preparations are underway. We recall the heroes and villains of the Purim story and may think we know the entire story from reading the Megilla every year. There is a most interesting postscript to Megilla that is not widely known. Queen Esther and King Achashveirosh had a son, Darius, who succeeded his father as King of Persia upon his father's death. King Darius was consequential in that he allowed the Second Temple (Beis Hamikdash) to be rebuilt. The rebuilding of the Temple was first permitted by Cyrus the Great around 538 BCE after he conquered Babylon. Construction began but was halted due to local opposition. During the reign of Darius (522–486 BCE), Persian officials questioned whether the Jews had proper authorization. Darius ordered a search of the royal archives and found Cyrus’s original decree. He reaffirmed the decree, ordered the work to continue, funded it from imperial revenues, and protected the project from interference. (All this is documented in the Book of Ezra.) ​ What’s striking about this historical side note is that Darius was born to the King and Queen in the Persian palace while the King and his closest adviser, Haman, were plotting the genocide of the Jewish People. As their ill-fated scheme was being cooked behind closed doors at the Palace, he was fathering a child who was not only Jewish (as he was also the son of Esther), but he would go on to allow for the Jewish Temple to be rebuilt in Jerusalem. To suggest that this outcome is ironic would be a great understatement. ​ The Talmud teaches that the name Esther is associated with the Hebrew word “Hester,” which means “hidden.” Indeed, the Book of Esther is the only Book in the entire Tanach that does not mention the name of G-d. A casual reading of the Megilla suggests that G-d plays no role in the outcome. A closer analysis indicates that while there is no overt mention of G-d, He is very much present, albeit in a more hidden manner. The birth of Darius and his subsequent reversal of policy, becoming more benevolent toward the Jews and allowing them to rebuild the Temple, is just one of several examples that are most compelling. ​ As we struggle in so many areas of our personal lives, we may feel discouraged when our prayers don't seem to be effective. At this time of year, we should once again draw strength from the Purim that just when it appears that all is lost, we just might be standing on the soil with the seeds of salvation that are getting to sprout. ​ Have a Peaceful Shabbos, ​ Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

The Ikea on Community Building

IKEA. The name alone triggers a range of emotions and reactions. For some, it gets them excited about the prospect of finding lower-priced furniture and awakens the dormant handyman within them. For others, IKEA is just a four-letter word. They are not excited about assembling their toddler's new dresser and would rather pay a little extra for a finished product. The much-touted Swedish meatballs (they are kosher at the locations in Israel) in the cafeteria don’t move the needle. Indeed, many psychologists have noted the marital discord that accompanies visits to Ikea. They note the maze-like store layout, overwhelming choices, and complex, self-assembled furniture create a "perfect storm" for relationship stress. These situations fuel power struggles over money and design, test communication under pressure, and often reveal deeper, underlying issues about trust, division of labor, and shared, long-term goals. There is a strange choice of verb in the opening of our Parsha. G-d tells Moshe to speak to the Israelites so that they will “take for Me a contribution.” The Hebrew verb is veyikchu, literally “and they shall take,” though some English translations smooth this to “bring.” The choice of verb is precisely what catches the commentators’ attention, because we would expect veyitnu, “to give.” Why would the Torah describe giving as taking? Our Rabbis taught that this linguistic reversal reveals an essential aspect of generosity. When we contribute to something larger than ourselves, we expand. The act of giving creates ownership in a way that passive receiving never can. By releasing our resources into a shared project, we acquire a stake in what that project becomes. G-d created a home for humanity in the world; in our Parsha, humanity creates a home for G-d in the Mishkan. The parallel is deliberate. God does not need a physical dwelling any more than the Infinite needs furniture. But building on behalf of another creates a relationship. The Mishkan allowed Israel to reciprocate God’s creative generosity, and in that reciprocal act of making, they became bound to what they made. Since the Mishkan, there have been 3,300 years of Jewish community building following the original formula. As in those times, there are roughly three categories of people who interact with kehila building. There are builders, detractors, and spectators. Interestingly, my observations indicate that the builders and detractors represent a minority of the demographic pie. It is the spectators who occupy most of the seats. However one feels about the Ikea model, when it comes to the Jewish community, it is most important to evolve from a spectator to a builder. ​ Have a Peaceful Shabbos, ​ Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

Time to Build Our Own Table

Every once in a while, we might receive a jolt that shakes us in many ways. We might wonder whether the jolt is due to new information or to knowledge we've had for a while, and whether the way it is presented now makes it feel different. I am wrestling with this question after listening to the widely reported speech by Bret Stephens on the “State of World Jewry.” Stephens, a noted columnist whom I have been reading for over 20 years since his days at the Jerusalem Post, delivered some compelling remarks recently at the 92nd St. Y in NYC. Stephens argued that the conventional approach to combat antisemitism, which focuses on advocacy, Holocaust education, legal definitions, and monitoring hate, has largely failed to reduce antisemitic beliefs or violence, even as those dedicated resources have grown. He questioned whether decades of education, polling, and advocacy have meaningfully lowered antisemitism. Additionally, he argued that antisemitism isn’t primarily rooted in ignorance or misinformation that better education alone could fix. Rather, he framed it as a deeper, almost irrational resentment. While many of us disagree with or struggle to digest this, the reality is that Stephens is now aligning himself with traditional rabbinic thought. Rashi, in his commentary on the Torah, describes an encounter of Esav embracing Yaakov. He writes that it is a well-known halacha that Esav hates Yaakov. It was just at that moment that Esav had a temporary moment of compassion, but that moment was over just as it began. For centuries, the biological and ideological descendants of Esav have hated the descendants of Yaakov. This hate is sometimes interrupted with periods of less hostility, but even in those times, the anti-Semitism is merely lurking beneath. I am surprised by how shocked some in our community are about the resurgence in hatred of Jews and Israel. Stephens, in describing the plight of Jews in modern times, also quoted Phillip Glass, “If there’s no room at the table, build your own table.” While this can have different applications, I believe it applies to all of us to make a concerted effort to reconnect with our roots. In this parsha, we read once again about the covenant given to the Jewish People at Mt. Sinai. From that moment on, the nations of the world have never forgiven us. While we have tried so hard to prove to the nations that we are not occupiers or colonialists, it has had a limited effect. We really need to focus on building our own table. ​ Have a Peaceful Shabbos, ​ Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

March of a Lifetime

There are certain times in life when words simply cannot capture an experience. The event or experience is so powerful and awesome that putting it into words would simply diminish the moment. This idea is found in the Kaddish when we recite the words. “לְעֵֽלָּא מִן־כָּל בִּרְכָתָֽא וְשִׁירָתָֽא דַּאֲמִירָן בְּעָלְ֒מָֽא.” Translation: the praise and elevation of G-d is far above any words that can be uttered in this world. One may have heard this reaction from someone who visited a breathtaking location or who had recently fallen in love. You might ask them to describe the site they visited or the person they love so much that they have decided to spend the rest of their life with them. They might be at a loss for words, as describing the Grand Canyon as 'amazing' simply does not do it justice. I have been having a similar reaction in the days since we dedicated the new Sefer Torah and proudly marched with it through the streets of Jacksonville to our beloved shul. There are so many elements to unpack and so many emotions swirling inside that I find myself at a loss for words when I am asked to describe the day. Awesome. Magnificent. Unbelievable. These words seem to come up short and don’t feel that they adequately capture the experience. ​ There is one part of the Hachnosas Sefer Torah that is seared into my soul, and I will never forget. As we marched with the Torah and reached San Jose Blvd, the world seemed to stop for the Torah. Our friends at the JSO stopped all traffic, and we were able to walk, sing, and dance proudly with the Torah across a main intersection in Jacksonville. All the vehicles, passengers, and bystanders were quiet and stopped as the scroll that carried the Divine wisdom from 3,300 years ago was brought to its new home. As I mentioned in my remarks at lunch, this moment carries symbolism that extends far beyond the act of marching the Torah to its new home. It should resonate with every aspect of our lives when we face the choice of how much priority to allocate to G-d and His Torah. We have so many competing needs and priorities that tend to divert our attention from what’s really important. As memories fade and we get caught up in the so-called normal, it is incumbent on all of us to remember that chilly Sunday morning in Jacksonville when everything stopped as the Torah was proudly marched to its new home. ​ Have a Peaceful Shabbos, ​ Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

The writing of a Sefer Torah

It is of utmost significance when a community comes together for a good cause. It is extraordinary for a community to come together for the writing of a Sefer Torah. The mitzvah to write a Sefer Torah is the final of the 613th Mitzvos recorded in the Torah. It is by no means an easy mitzvah to complete, and perhaps that is why it is the final mitzvah in the Torah. It is a most labor-intensive exercise with the Sofer (scribe) writing it letter by letter and word by word in this most painstaking process. There are 304,805 letters, which translate into 79,976 words and 5,845 verses (pesukim). ​ The world has evolved since the advent of the printing press by Gutenberg in 1440. Printed books have become the norm, and in a sense, the world has never looked back. In more recent times, with the arrival of the internet and the proliferation of digital libraries, handwritten books are almost non-existent. For those reasons alone, it is so remarkable to have an entire Sefer Torah written. That might just be the starting point, as the Sefer Torah represents something so central to our core essence that it defines who we are as a people. What makes the Jewish People unique is that we are a nation that accepted the covenant from G-d, and it was consummated on Mt. Sinai when we received and accepted the Divine word. As the Talmudic sage, Rav Yosef said about Shavuos (anniversary of receiving the Torah), “if not for this day, I would just be another Joe in the street.” It is for that reason that the reading of the Torah is the focal point of the Tefila/Service on Shabbos. We remove this sacred scroll from the ark and read from the text, and our souls become enriched for another week. At a later time, Ezra instructed that we should read from the Torah on Monday and Thursday as well, as one should not go more than three days without reading it. It is for those reasons (and more) that I consider it an honor of a lifetime to have this new Sefer Torah commissioned and written in my honor. It is so special that so many people from the community and beyond have come together for this sacred Mitzvah. The notion of a Kehila collaborating for such a sacred cause represents the very best in Judaism. I invite everyone to join us as we gather to welcome the new Sefer Torah into our shul by participating in a most festive procession that will begin from our home on Sunday morning. ​ Have a Peaceful Shabbos, ​ Rabbi Yaakov Fisch

Patience in the Process

Black Monday hit the NFL with a vengeance this year. Black Monday is the day following the last day of the regular season in the NFL, in which teams unhappy with their performances in the season will fire their head coach. This year, 10 head coaches have been let go since their teams' seasons ended. Considering there are only 32 teams, that's nearly a third of them! Perhaps the most surprising firing was the Buffalo Bills, who let go head coach Sean McDermott, who posted a 98-50 record during his time in Buffalo and made the playoffs for eight of the nine seasons he coached in this frigid city next to Lake Erie. While I am not a sports analyst, I feel a need to weigh in on these firings. ​ I believe that these coaches were fired because their owners were unhappy that their teams did not reach the Super Bowl or go 17-0 during the regular season. The reality is that only one team can win the championship, and there is a lengthy process for a team to evolve from a basement dweller to a contender to a champion. Patience is not a virtue in a society that wants to win now and always win. ​ The Torah teaches us that, upon the conclusion of each of the six days of creation, G-d said, “It was good.” There is one exception to this, and that was on Monday. Rashi, in his commentary, says that the omission is intentional because the work on Monday was not completed until Tuesday. For that reason, the Torah records that G-d said “it was good” twice on Tuesday. The larger lesson is that anything important in life involves a process and takes time for it to come to fruition. ​ As time goes on, our generation has less and less patience for processes and wants instant results. This doesn't manifest itself only on the football field, but rather in all areas of life. From building and sustaining our marriages to child raising to developing a relationship with G-d, one must be committed to a process. If anyone tells me that they have no issues and have instant success, it should be viewed with suspicion. It’s easy to get discouraged when we don’t see the results we want at the speed we would like, but let us remember that G-d taught us this lesson of process when He waited until Tuesday to complete the work of Monday. ​ Have a Peaceful Shabbos, ​ Rabbi Yaakov Fisch