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