Jewish American Heritage Month

Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

Rosh Hashanah is Yom Teruah, a day of blowing blasts (Numbers 29:1). Teruah literally means shouting, since the day was probably initially a great popular acclamation of God, enhanced and led by trumpet calls.Why is the shofar blown during the preceding month of Elul? It forces the baal tekiah, the shofar blower, to rehearse. His art is much harder than most people realize. The Talmud calls it hochmah veinah melachah, art but not hard work, but the art is not for everyone. I once trained a baal tekiah who became a virtuoso, far better than me, which reminds me that Enrico Carusos singing teacher couldnt sing a note. Historically, we know that when Moses ascended Mount Sinai the second time, the people were told to sound the shofar in the camp so they would not sin again. Since this happened in Elul, we take care during this month not to commit any further transgressions, and the shofar is our warning signal.If, like this year, the first day of the festival falls on a Shabbat, the shofar is silent and the day is zichron teruah, a reminder of the blowing of blasts. (The Babylonian Talmud holds that not blowing on Shabbat was introduced by the sages, whereas the Jerusalem Talmud says the rule is biblical.)Why doesnt the shofar override Shabbat in the same way as the mitzvah of brit milah, circumcision, takes precedence? The Mishna (Rosh Hashanah 4:1-2) says that on Shabbat in Temple times, the shofar was blown in the Mikdash (sanctuary) but not in the medina, i.e. outside the sanctuary. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai allowed the shofar on Shabbat wherever there was a Beit Din (rabbinical court). R. Elazar limited this to Yavne. Others said it applied both in Yavne and wherever there was a Beit Din. In actuality, wherever people could see Jerusalem they blew the shofar on Shabbat, but in Yavne, only in the Beit Din.Rashi says that Mikdash means the Temple, and medina includes the rest of Jerusalem. Maimonides says that Mikdash includes all of Jerusalem, and medina is everywhere else. The practice as it firmed up is as we have it today. The sages applied the ban to lulav as well, so there is no netilat lulav (waving of palm fronds) if the first day of Sukkot is on Shabbat.The authority to make such rulings is from Deuteronomy 17:10. Rabbah explains (Rosh Hashanah 29b) that as not everyone is skilled in tekiat shofar, one might take the shofar through the streets on Shabbat to get expert guidance. cnxps.cmd.push(function () { cnxps({ playerId: '36af7c51-0caf-4741-9824-2c941fc6c17b' }).render('4c4d856e0e6f4e3d808bbc1715e132f6'); });THOUGH THE rabbis sought to protect the laws of Shabbat by preventing people from carrying the shofar on the Sabbath, this did not apply in the Temple. But if there was a biblical ban on blowing the shofar on Shabbat, how could Yohanan ben Zakkai allow it outside the Temple? He feared that people might learn to live without a Temple, so Temple procedures had to be preserved.The Hassidim Harishonim, the early pietists, said the shofar symbolizes mans yearning for a good relationship with God, but on Shabbat, the day already provides that happy relationship. Why then was the shofar still blown in the Temple on Shabbat? Because the stature of the Temple was so high that no concession was made in its procedures.There is evidence from the Cairo Genizah, a collection of ancient Jewish manuscript fragments, that until the 12th century some places practiced Shabbat shofar-blowing. About a century ago there was an attempt to reinstitute the practice in Jerusalem, but without success. When the Temple is rebuilt, the problem will solve itself.Samson Raphael Hirsch said that the first shofar note (tekiah) draws our attention to God. The second note (shevarim/teruah) sees the idea of God shake your consciousness and penetrate your inner being. The third note (tekiah) strengthens you and sends you off to a life before God.Rav Moshe Feinstein said that everyone yearns for a smooth ride (tekiah) but sometimes we end up with a broken life (shevarim). Often the years turn out to be short spurts of joy or sadness (teruah), but in the end most of us decide weve really had quite a smooth and good life (tekiah gedolah).The first-century BCE Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria said the shofar connotes both war and peace one of the theological tensions of Judaism. The war is not just the Almightys eternal battle against evil and inhumanity, but a kind of war ordained by God, when nature is at variance with itself and its different parts attack one another. When creation is out of joint there cannot be harmony in the world. Redemption peace comes when man and God unite to stabilize the universe, not allowing a single spark that could lead to destruction or destructiveness. When man and God work together, they are at one and the world is at one. The same applies in our personal lives. When the shofar calls us to personal equilibrium, we are no longer mixed-up personalities torn apart by conflicted drives and desires, but endowed with stability and harmony throughout our being.The writer is emeritus rabbi of the Great Synagogue, Sydney, Australia.

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How the Shofar is used on Shabbat - The Jerusalem Post

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Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

There was a group of Jewish students who were traveling through Malawi in southern Africa. This was back in the 90s so no smartphones, no Google maps, no GPS. Instead, they were relying on a good old-fashioned map. (Do they still print those?)

It was Friday morning and they planned to get to the town of Monkey Bay in time for Shabbat. According to their map, they had two options. They could either take a so-called major highway (i.e. paved road) that would span over 125 miles. Their second option was a smaller dirt road traversing about 75 miles. Wanting to enjoy the scenic views of Malawis backcountry with the added benefit of reaching their destination more quickly, giving them time to prepare before sunset. They chose the shorter road.

They were in for a major surprise. As they were traveling, suddenly, the road came to an abrupt cliff. In front of them was a river. Across the river, they could see the continuation of the road just as depicted on the map. The only problem was there was no bridge.

They learned that the shortest route may not be the quickest course to your endpoint. They ended up camping on the side of the road for a truly unique Shabbat in the African wilderness.

There is a Talmudic story which goes very similar:

Said Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananiah: Once a child got the better of me.

I was traveling, and I met with a child at a crossroads. I asked him, which way to the city? and he answered: This way is short and long, and this way is long and short.

I took the short and long way. I soon reached the city but found my approach obstructed by gardens and orchards. So, I retraced my steps and said to the child: My son, did you not tell me that this is the short way?

Answered the child: Did I not tell you that it is also long? (Talmud, Eruvin 53b)

We read last week the parsha of Nitzavim where it tells us that the Torah and its precepts are something that is very close to you, in your mouth, in your heart, that you may do it.

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, founder of the Chabad movement, devotes his entire book of Tanya to explain this verse. In life, he explains, something may be very near to us. But if we attempt to access it with shortcuts, it may ultimately backfire. With the proper effort and commitment, we will truly see our accomplishments.

Sometimes, taking the long route is actually the best way to make the distant near.

As we stand just one week away from Rosh Hashana let us recognize that teshuva (coming closer to Hashem and our true selves) and attaining our goals are within reach.

The only question is: Will we cut corners and seek short cuts?

Rabbi Berel Sasonkin is co-director with his wife, Rochel, of Chabad at Kent State University in Kent.

Originally posted here:

Make the distant near - Cleveland Jewish News

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Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

Kosher offerings on supermarket shelves in America and Israel might have looked differently this High Holiday season had Rabbi Mendy Chitrik not undertaken a 3000 mile trip around Anatolia, Turkeys Asian portion, this summer.

While it may come as a surprise, despite only 15,000 Jews in the country, Turkey is a major supplier of kosher products.

After all, the country as a whole is a powerhouse of food production the seventh-largest food and beverage producer on the planet. Agriculture accounts for more than a fifth of the Turkish economy. Turkey is home to nearly 70% of the worlds hazelnut crop, and is also the worlds largest producer of figs, cherries, apricots and pomegranates.

Along with that industry are nearly 300 kosher factories that produce milk powder, dried fruit, kosher-for-Passover salt and myriad other products.

Normally, at any given moment, there is a team of 15 to 20 mashgichim, or kosher certifiers, who are brought in from Israel to make sure every kosher food processor is inspected. Many of them are managed by Rabbi Chitrik, who oversees kashrut operations in the country for both the American-based Orthodox Union and the Turkish Rabbinate.

This year, however, the global coronavirus pandemic put a stop to outside inspectors.

For months, as the country wrestled with the virus, borders were closed and inter-provincial travel banned, making it impossible for the mashgichim to make their rounds.

Therefore, when Turkey began to open back up in the summer, Rabbi Chitrik decided to take his 19 year-old son Eli in tow and travel around the country to inspect as many factories as they could, so that their kosher certification would not lapse.

Many companies wouldnt accept supervisors that travel by plane or public transportation, Chitrik said. We had no choice but to get a car and go on our trip. It took about one month to cover 95 plants.

The two set out from Istanbul to Eskisehir, a city in northwestern Anatolia, and made their way through two dozen cities, beginning with central Anatolia, and moving on toward the Syrian border before making their way back to Istanbul along the Mediterranean and Aegean coasts.

As a member of the Chabad movement and Turkeys Ashkenazi chief rabbi, he had another goal as well to check up on the remnants of small Jewish communities and sites of Jewish history dotted around the country.

Image by Rabbi Mendy Chitrik

The ruins of an ancient synagogue near Ske on Turkeys Aegean coast.

Harran, home of Laban the Aramaean, the biblical character and father-in-law of Jacob, remains a town in southeastern Turkey, near the Syrian border.

Walking on the streets in Harran, these ancient streets, it really fills my heart with joy, Chitrik said. Here is where the destiny of the Jewish people was first drawn.

Though Turkish Jewry is generally associated with the Sephardic community which, in modern times, is the largest and most dominant of the countrys Jewish communities, Sephardic Jews are actually the most recent import into the country, only arriving into the welcoming arms of the Ottoman Empire after the Spanish expulsion of 1492.

In addition, the country has five other significant Jewish communities. An Ashkenazi community that arrived after earlier European expulsions from France, Hungary and elsewhere in Europe, a Karaite community, which has been present in the country for nearly 1000 years, the Greek-speaking Romaniote community, which has been present since before Roman times, as well as the Kurdish and Syrian communities which trace their history in the region back to the First Temple period.

As the Chitriks made their way around the country, they returned a Jewish presence to sites with long Jewish histories that became devoid of Jewish life in the 20th century.

In each location, Rabbi Chitrik made a video about the sites that he shared with Istanbuls Jewish community via his Facebook and Twitter accounts in the hopes of connecting Turkish Jews with their faith and national history.

One such stop was Cappadocia, where the rabbi and his son spent the first Shabbat of their trip.

Cappadocia is one of Turkeys most notable tourist attractions, due to its cave cities and unique geological features.

Rabbi Chitrik had a different interest, however.

The Jewish community of Cappadocia is a community that has had an effect on every Shabbat table today, Chitrik explained.

Image by Rabbi Mendy Chitrik

The remains of a synagogue In Cermik, a village just outside of Diyarbakir, Turkey. Today it serves as a warehouse, but the outline of the ark can still be seen.

No Jews live full time in Cappadocia today, but thanks to the Chitriks, Shabbat candles were lit once more in the city from which the tradition was born.

The next Shabbat they spent in Mardin, a city on the Syrian border with a large Syriac Christian population.

Rabbi Chitriks Talmudic education came in handy there as well.

The city is only a few kilometers away from Nusaybin, mentioned in the Talmud as Nitzivin, Nusaybin was the site of the yeshiva of Talmudic scholar Rabbi Yehuda Ben Bathyra.

No Jews remain in Nusaybin today, the citys Jewish community largely relocated to Israel after its establishment in 1948, but the language of Rabbi Yehuda Ben Bathyra and the Gemara, Aramaic, lives on there. It is the home and liturgical language of many of the regions Syriac Christians.

Though Talmudic and Syriac Aramaic are not quite the same dialect, Chitrik found their words comforting nonetheless.

When they say lakhmo, for bread, or shamno for oil, it sounds almost like an Ashkenazi pronunciation of Aramaic, he said.

Spending Shabbat in Mardin, speaking Aramaic with the locals, looking at the place of Rabbi Yehuda Ben Bathyra, and out over Aram-Naharaim, it added a whole new dimension to the trip, Chitrik said, using the biblical name for the region.

The trip also gave Chitrik the opportunity to stop in on living, or at least not quite dead yet, Jewish communities.

Another city the Chitriks visited was Antakya, which is the Turkish name for ancient Antioch the only place other than the Golan Heights where a Syrian Jewish community remains on historically Syrian land.

Though whittled down to only a few families, Rabbi Chitrik found an impressively devout community.

During the rule of the Greeks, the Assyrians, the Byzantines, the Ottomans, and now the Turkish Republic, theyve always been there and they are still there. he said. In Antakya, I saw Jews who go every day to the synagogue even though they dont number a minyan, who have eaten only fish for months because they couldnt bring in a kosher slaughterer due to coronavirus. It is remarkable.

The Chitriks encountered a similar community in Adana, a city on the Mediterranean coast, where the last four Jews of the city still celebrate Shabbat together in the old synagogue.

In Diyarbakir, the most populous Kurdish city in Turkey, the last Jew of the city, an elderly woman who had married into a Muslim family showed the Chitriks the previously unknown remains of an old synagogue in the village of Cermik a few kilometers away.

Though the Chitriks made an effort to remind local non-Jews of their cities Jewish heritage, Rabbi Chitrik reported little anti-Semitism and stressed that he was able to visit many of the sites thanks to the preservation efforts of the Turkish government.

The Turkish government has rebuilt quite a few synagogues, he said. While politics play out in diplomatic arenas, in the religious and communal ones they dont. Jews lived freely in these lands for so many years and continue to live Jewish lives in the same manner today.

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A rabbis 3000-mile Turkish odyssey, in the name of kashrut - Forward

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Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

As nearly every aspect of the world around us was changing in this year of global pandemic, Chabad.org/News worked to provide unique perspectives on the unfolding tragedy and unfathomable loss of life, while at the same time reporting on the outpourings of kindness and humanity from every part of the globe. With the Jewish year 5780 coming to a close, here is a look at some of the stories that defined it, as featured on Chabad.org/News.

It was a year that began optimistically.

As the new year dawned, new Chabad-Lubavitch centers opened in time for the High Holidays in Tiberias, Israel, and Flagstaff, Ariz. The High Holidays and Sukkot were celebrated with joy and reverence as rabbis tweeted their Yom Kippur inspiration, a Bay Area Talmud class celebrated a milestone, and an innovative social-media initiative brought the timeless experience of the Tishrei season with the RebbeRabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory, to life with real-time WhatsApp and Instagram posts.

The previous years horrific anti-Semitic attack in Pittsburgh was remembered on its first anniversary, as local Jews cited Jewish unity as key to coping, and a victims son pointed to tefillin as the best memorial to his mother. Then the focus shifted west as wildfires raged across California. Stranded by a wildfire, a rabbi and his carpool of yeshivah boys offered tefillin to area Jews and spent the hours stuck in standstill traffic studying Torah.

Elsewhere in the world, Jewish communities faced down disaster, unrest and conflict, as Venices Jewish community battled catastrophic floodwaters, a young couple joined Hong Kongs Chabad center amid turbulence, and rocket attacks from Gaza struck Tel Aviv and other cities in Israel while unfazed, 6,000 Jews celebrated a Shabbat of togetherness at the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron.

While rocket attacks from Gaza struck Tel Aviv and other cities in Israel, more than 6,000 unfazed guests savored festive meals on Shabbat in the biblical city of Hebron. The annual gathering at the Cave of the Patriarchs drew 30,000 visitors over the weekend.

The years trend of building and renewal continued, as Montenegro got a chief rabbi, Chicagos River North neighborhood received a new Torah scroll and traveling ark, New Zealand began work on a mikvah, and Illinois welcomed its 50th Chabad center.

Fighting hate with Jewish pride, 5,800 Chabad-Lubavitch rabbis and communal leaders gathered in New York for the International Conference of Chabad-Lubavitch Emissaries. They visited the Rebbes resting place, took a class photo and celebrated Jewish life at a massive banquet, where they heard about a young couple opening a Chabad House in Myanmar, and about the Chabad Houses that had opened in the past year in Woodstock, Rwanda, Kaunas and Kyoto.

Hate reared its ugly head again, as Chassidic Jews were targeted in a lethal Jersey City shooting that left six dead at the small communitys kosher grocery. In the aftermath of the attack, the importance of education was emphasized as White House anti-Semitism envoy Elan Carr visited the bereaved community.

Sweeping criminal justice reform was enacted, and at the White House, Chassidim were recognized for getting it done. Much of the inspiration for it has come from the Aleph Institute, founded by the Rebbe in 1981, and the venerable Judge Jack B. Weinstein sat down to speak about his relationship with the Rebbe and Alephs longtime efforts on behalf of the incarcerated.

Criminal justice reform was enacted, and at the White House, Chassidim were recognized for getting it done. A longtime proponent of reform, Judge Jack B. Weinstein of the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of New York talked about his encounters with the RebbeRabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory; his long relationship with the Aleph Institute; and why at age 98 he still feels that there's more to accomplish. (Photo: Moshe Finkelstein/Chabad.org)

Chanukah touched down around the worldfrom stadiums to state capitols to the virtual realm. The worlds largest dreidel was created, and the worlds first public menorah was joined this year by some 15,000 others. A Holocaust survivor was all alone on Chanukah, but then a rabbi walked into her home. Some 800 Moroccan Jews were joined at their Chanukah celebration for the first time by leading officials from that country. Bernie Sanders lit the menorah in Iowa. Uruguays president-elect received one,too.

But amid the light was confounding darkness as an anti-Semitic assailant stabbed five people at a Chanukah celebration in Monsey, N.Y., one of whom tragically succumbed to his wounds. In the aftermath, there was fear, but also resolve as a record number of participants joined celebrations on the last night of Chanukah, bringing redoubled light to a world where it was sorely needed.

Jewish pride continued to shine forth. A San Antonio deputy sheriff wore a kippah with pride at his swearing-in. My grandparents were forced to wear a Jewish star on their chest, Seth Frydberg told Chabad.org at the time, and I have the privilege to work for law enforcement with a badge on my chest.

Proudly wearing a kippah, Seth Frydberg was sworn in as the newest deputy sheriff in Bexar County, Texas, with the help of his father, Felix Frydberg, center, the son of Holocaust survivors, as Sheriff Javier Salazar, left, looked on.

Bushfires in Australia, a Puerto Rico earthquake and a diverted El Al flight each spurred local Chabad centers into action, caring for those affected.

We learned what its like to be Jewish in Estonia, Wyoming, Morocco, Ireland, Ghana, Romania, Aruba, Spain, Mississippi, San Diego, Normandy and deep in the Amazon rainforest.

The Cambodian Royal Family celebrated its first bat mitzvah, and hundreds of Jewish young professionals gathered for a vibrant Shabbaton. The champion Kansas City Chiefs star lineman Mitchell Schwartz brought pride to local Jews.

Cambodia's royal family turned out in Phnom Penh for Princess Elior Koroghli's bat mitzvah party. (Photo: Kang Predi/Teh Ranie)

And then the world as we know it irrevocably changed.

As the first ripples of what would become the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic began to spread in China, the countrys 15 Chabad-Lubavitch emissary families helped residents and evacuated visitors, even as they battened down their own hatches and confronted shortages, bringing much-needed face masks to vulnerable people in need.

But for the moment, the effects of the devastating virus were localized. Jews in quarantine got kosher food from local Chabad centers, and Beijing emissary Dinie Freundlich keynoted the annual International Conference of Chabad-Lubavitch Women Emissaries that celebrates contemporary Jewish life. Weeks earlier, 70 years of the Rebbes leadership was marked in communities around the world.

Dini Freundlich, co-director of Chabad of Beijing, lights Shabbat candles in January as the COVID-19 pandemic began to spread through China.

Then the virus went global. Country after country was struck by the invisible but deadly tsunami of disease. As COVID-19 spread in Italy, that countrys Chabad centers kept their doors open to continue providing much-needed humanitarian aid.

The festival of Purim arrived, and Chabad brought Purim joy to afflicted communities, reading the Megillah for the quarantined and bringing some happiness to countries in lockdown. But Purim of 5780 will be looked back upon as the last time for many months that communities gathered. Because unbeknown to those who had been reassured by officials that there was no need to be cautious, the deadly virus was being transmitted along with the mishloach manot and lchaims that were shared.

And in the days and weeks that followed, the United Statesand scores of other countrieslocked down as the pandemics spread grew exponentially. Schools and synagogues shut their doors and in-person communal life ceased.

Facing an unprecedented challenge, Chabad.org sprang into action, teaching people how to celebrate Shabbat while social distancing and creating a Kaddish program for those unable to attend synagogue. Chabad-Lubavitch Shluchim Offices Online School attendance spiked as in-person schooling ground to a halt, Shabbat care packages replaced in-person meals, and rabbis reached out to senior citizens isolated for protection from the disease.

As Passover approached, Seder-to-Go kits were rushed into production and distributed by the thousands across the globe. Children with special needs got online visits from their Friendship Circle buddies. Guests from past years mega-Seders received Passover help wherever they were, as Chabad-Lubavitch launched the worlds largest Passover campaign, helping the countless Jewish households who would be making their own Seder for the first time. Online chametz sales spiked, and pre-Passover classes moved online.

Chabad emissaries and volunteers worked tirelessly amid the spreading pandemic to ensure that people would be provided with their Passover needs. In addition to general Passover staplestraditional foods, matzah and kosher wine, Haggadahs and other printed materials and do-it-yourself tools Chabad distributed approximately 3.5 million handmade shmurah matzahs for individual use.

In the Chassidic community of Crown Heights, ravaged by the pandemic, kindness abounded from behind closed doors, even as the streets remained eerily deserted. Deserted, but not silent, as every few minutes brought the wail of an ambulance rushing yet another COVID-19 patient to overcrowded hospitals. Many recovered. Many, tragically, did not.

Residents peeked from windows or stood at their doors as the biers of COVID-19 victims, attended by hazmat-suit-clad chevra kadisha volunteers, passed through the streets to allow people to safely pay their respects to the giants, respected leaders and loved ones they had lost.

Rabbi Mordechai Gurary, a congregational leader. Mrs. Guta Schapiro, a Chassidic matriarch. Mrs. Dusia Rivkin, who left hundreds of descendants behind. Rabbi Yisroel Friedman, a talmudic genius. Rabbi Gedalya Korf, an activist for Soviet Jewry. Rabbi Yehudah Leib Groner, an aide to the Rebbe. Reb Mottel Chein, a Chassidic mentor and community activist. Rebbetzin Rachel Altein, a leader and mentor to hundreds. Rabbi Don Yoel Levy, an international leader in kosher supervision. Mendel Drizin, who helped build Crown Heights. Mrs. Thelma Levy, a behind-the-scenes force in kosher supervision. Avraham Aaron Rubashkin, a kosher-meat icon. Rabbi Aharon Yaakov Schwei, a beloved rabbi of Crown Heights. Yosef Bentzion Raices, a joyful promoter of Judaism. Faiga Korenblit, a Holocaust survivor and quintessential rebbetzin. Rabbi Motti Kopman, 34, who faced everything life threw at him with optimism. Chaim Osher Kahanov, who escaped the Soviet Union twice.

Rabbi Motti Kopman, 34, faced cancer, COVID and death with invincible joy.

And the Jewish community mourned many more victims from around the world. Rabbi Messod Touboul, a beloved Paris educator. Rabbi Yehuda Refson, a senior rabbi in Leeds, England. Rabbi Sholom Eidelman, who served Moroccan Jewry for more than 60 years. Yitzchok Kosofsky, who spread Judaism in Chicago. Rabbi Eliyahu Bakshi-Doron, Israels former chief rabbi. Rabbi Binyamin Wolff, 43, a devoted rabbi in Hanover, Germany. Rochel Yehudis Charytan, longtime Chabad emissary to Winnipeg. Rabbi Yaakov Perlow, the Novominsker Rebbe. Rivkah Karp, a stalwart supporter of Jewish education.

Most passed away due to COVID-19. A number of others had pre-existing conditions or other illnesses that were exacerbated by the limited ability of overwhelmed medical staff to provide care. But all are victims of the pandemic.

Realizing the need to remember these souls, Chabad.org launched a broad memorial initiative. Many had died alone and been denied the honor of a well-attended funeral, but they would not be forgotten. Titled Each Person, a World, the memorial page would grow to more than 1,200 tributes and forms the most comprehensive list to date of Jewish victims of COVID-19. Remembered also, though necessarily not by name, were the unknown victims of the pandemic.

Besides the direct victims of the pandemic, many more were indirectly affected by the comprehensive effect that COVID-19 has had on all aspects of life, and Chabad rabbis and rebbetzins continue to find ways to be there for everyone in need. In Montreal, a long-running addiction-recovery center pivoted to online services. A Chicago kosher-food bank saw a 600 percent increase in distributions. A high-stakes rescue by Chabad of Jamaica saved a Jewish artist stranded at sea.

Amit Mendel of Jerusalem put on tefillin and said the Shema prayer at the resting place of the Rebbe. He was rescued after being stranded for six weeks on a tiny boat in the Caribbean, when all ports were closed to him due to the pandemic.

As the world slowly adjusted to a new normal of life in the era of the coronavirus, Chabad centers found innovative ways to celebrate an out-of-the-box Lag BaOmer. As many as 40,000 people tuned in to a virtual Lag BaOmer celebration in Australia as around the world, Jewish unity was emphasized even while maintaining social distancing.

Pinpoints of hope and inspiration brightened the months of darkness. A rabbi who spent months in a coma brought on by COVID-19 before recovering became a lightning rod for good deeds. Lawn signs and face masks displayed messages of positivity. Chassidic Jews lined up in enormous numbers to donate convalescent plasma to help fight the virus. A college student spent 11 hours a day grocery shopping for others.

Responding to the pandemic with positive action were volunteers like Kaila Zimmerman-Moscovitch of Chicago, who spent many hours a day at the local supermarket to shopp for neighbors in quarantine.

Shavuot approached amid the lightening of restrictions in some areas, but synagogues showed caution, prioritizing the preservation of life over the resumption of in-person services. Thousands joined a pre-Shavuot online yizkor service, and the holiday itself was celebrated at home, in some synagogues and on the streets.

The Rebbes yahrtzeit on the Third of Tammuz was marked by the largest Zoom event on earth, with tens of thousands of participants. Thousands more attended the Rebbes resting place at the Ohel in Queens, N.Y., with social-distancing restrictions. And Wisdom to Heal the Earth, a book of meditations and teachings of the Rebbe by Tzvi Freeman, won the Benjamin Franklin Gold Award.

Hurricanes Hanna and Laura brought devastation to Texas and Louisiana, and Chabad representatives reached out to local community members with much-needed relief. An arson attack at the Chabad center at the University of Delaware was met with a viral fundraising campaign and a pledge to rebuild bigger and better than before. Widespread wildfires along the West Coast incinerated entire communities, and local Chabad centers launched a major relief effort.

It was a year that ended optimistically.

A peace agreement between Israel and the United Arab Emirates brought increased hope to the region and has already resulted in the bringing to safety of an elderly Yemenite couplea joint effort of Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed, the Crown Prince of Abu Dhabi, and Rabbi Berel Lazar, Russias chief rabbi.

As the High Holidays and the year 5781 approached, Chabad couples moved out to new posts, committed to building for the future even amid a far-from-certain present. The Chabad-Lubavitch movement launched a broad High Holiday initiative to bring the celebratory observances to all, even as synagogues remain shuttered. An online course taught many isolated at home how to sound the shofar. High Holiday prayer books sold in record numbers to those preparing to observe the holidays at home.

It was a year of pain, of tragedy, of suffering. But it was also a year of widespread kindness and empathy in the face of unprecedented challenges. As the new year of 5781 approaches, we extend our prayerful wish that it brings with it only good news.

As the year drew to a close, Rabbi Yehuda Ceitlin and Eli Soffer manufactured shofars from scratch to go into a High Holiday in a Box that Chabad of Tucson, Ariz., is distributing to community members who would not be able to attend services on Rosh Hashanah due to the coronavirus pandemic.

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5780 in Review: A Year of Pain and Lossand of Kindness and Community - The stories that helped define the year - Chabad.org

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Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

The Torah gives just one unique commandment for Rosh HaShanah, to hear the sound of the Shofar, producing that raw, emotionally complex, array of sounds that evoke:

How do we respond to these cries? In the liturgy, our response to the shofar all three times in the Musaf (Additional) service is the words, Hayom Harat Olam. This strange phrase is usually translated, Today the world came into being or Today is the conception of the world, or the like. Hayom = today. Harah = to conceive. Olam = world. Sometimes translations even elide pregnancy and birth, rendering it, Today is the birthday of the world. In this understanding, the phrase expresses the tradition that the world was created on Rosh HaShanah (Talmud, Rosh HaShanah 27a), which appears elsewhere in the classical liturgy: This is the day, the beginning of Your creation, a memorial of the first day (introduction to the section of Remembrances/Zikhronot in Musaf). The shofar, then, arouses our sense of possibility. Today is the beginning, when the unlikeliest of miracles, life itself, came into being. We hint at this by reading of the births of Isaac and Samuel to previously barren mothers, Sarah and Hannah, in the Torah and Haftarah readings for the first day.

That is a strong meaning of Rosh Hashanah, but I dont think it can be exactly what Hayom Harat Olam means. First of all, that understanding conflates pregnancy and birth. Harah means pregnant. Second, while olam comes to refer to the world ie, total space in later Jewish literature, in the Bible, it means eternity ie, total time. Third, even if it meant the world, it would need a definite article and should be Hayom harat ha-olam. It should be translated not as today is the conception of the world, but, rather, today is pregnant with eternity, or, perhaps, today is infinitely pregnant. The cries and anguish, the fear, the loss, the danger they, themselves are pregnant with eternal possibility and vitality.

But this understanding has a cloud over it. Harat Olam is a Biblical quote, with a dark contextual meaning. Lets set the scene: The prophet Jeremiah, fresh off a traumatic beating and imprisonment by the corrupt and despotic priest Pashhur, who wanted none of Jeremiahs incessant, rabble-rousing against corruption and injustice, Jeremiah breaks down. He cant take it anymore, the life of the dissident, the activist, the prophet:

I have become a laughingstock all day; everyone mocks me.

Every time I speak, I cry out; violence and plunder, I call out.

For the word of YHWH causes me disgrace and contempt all day (Hayom) (Jeremiah 20:7-8).

The pain and trauma visited in this world upon courageous and righteous opponents of tyranny leads the prophet to a death-wish:

Cursed is the day (Hayom) when I was born;

a day on which my mother bore me should not be blessed.

Cursed is the man who brought my father the news, saying,

a baby boy was born to you!, delighting him with such delight.

Let that man be like the cities which YHWH overturned remorselessly;

Let him hear cries in the morning and wails (teruah) at noon.

Because he did not kill me within the womb,

So that my mother would be my grave, and her womb eternally pregnant (harat olam) (Jeremiah 20:14-17).

Hayom harat olam, Today is eternally pregnant, for Jeremiah, is the dark wish of a beaten, rejected, losing fighter-for-justice never to have been born. These scary thoughts, this despair, are well-known to many people broken by state violence and popular rejection, but who know that that violence is evil and cant help seeing things as they are. Its the feeling of hearing every cry, every teruah (the name for the short, staccato shofar blasts) exclusively as mourning.

The liturgy challenges us to recognize that despair in us, to hold it, to know it, and to work through it. Even in Jeremiahs despair, he couldnt quite go all the way with his death-wish. He uses death language, but then imagines his mother eternally pregnant with him. This image is horrific for those who have had a fetus die in their womb and had to deliver it, but it also winds back to the image of pregnancy itself: maybe this danger and this pain are pangs of life and possibility. The liturgy responds to this quote defiantly: Hayom yaamid bemishpat kol yetzurei olamim Today [God] will make all creatures from eternity stand in judgment. This, too, is a Biblical allusion, to Proverbs 29:4: By justice a king makes the earth stand. A life of justice work, which is demanded of us, can lead us into immense pain, fear, and brokenness; it can feel like death, but it is, in fact, what enables the earth to exist. It is life. Being judged is a translation of Gods sustaining the earth with justice. Our deeds matter. Our lives are important. How do we stand in judgment? Whether as children or as servants. If as children, have compassion on us, as a father has compassion for children. This, too, alludes to Jeremiahs language and guides it into new life. The Hebrew word for compassion is rahamim, from rehem, which means womb: if we are Your children, womb us, like a father wombs children. This gender-bending turn of phrase sets the womb as a universal model for human and divine possibility. When we address God as HaRahaman, it means God is The Compassionate One, but it really means that God is The Wombing One. To treat someone with compassion is to bring them in for warm protection and nourishment, to acknowledge that none of us is ever fully ready for life, that we all need some more time. We are always alive in justice/judgment at this moment and we are all always still in the womb, seen for our eternal potential.

Post-menopausal Sarah, married to a sexually non-performing spouse, gave birth; can we find vitality in the parts of ourselves that feel most hopeless? Can we birth life out of the doom and death of the collapsing planet and murderous regimes? Hannah, the barren outcast, scorned by the religious establishment, which mistakes her sincere, vulnerable prayer for drunken blathering in violation of Temple decorum, gives birth and the Rabbis in the Talmud (Berakhot 31a-b), stylize her prayer as the legal paradigm. To pray according to halakhah (Jewish law), we must bring out into the open our inner Hannah, our vulnerable, heartbroken, and rejected self, despite the fear. In hearing the cries of the shofar, we have to express our inner Jeremiah, to work through our despair to reach the nourished place of rebirth and possibility, eternally.

May you have a sweet new year, pregnant with eternity a year of audacious bravery and honest confrontation with danger, of attuning our ears to shrill cries everywhere and awakening from our sleepwalking, a year of removing malicious government from the land, a year of dangerous prayer, resilient midwifery, and wombing compassion.

A version of this devar torah was first written for the Avodah Service Corps members.

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Today is Pregnant with Eternity: The Dread and the Possibility of the New Year - Jewschool

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Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

Welcoming questions is normative within the Jewish tradition. We thrive in an environment that supports inquiry and interpretation. However, welcoming people of all shapes, sizes, orientations, may meet with some reservations. While Judaism wrestles with who is a Jew, Jews and non-Jews are finding love and forming partnerships across boundaries.

No longer is the interfaith family a concept of the future. Rather, it represents a substantial number of families that clergy and congregational communities need to acknowledge. According to a study by the University of Wisconsin-Platteville, over the past 10 years, more than 50% of nontraditional families identify as interfaith and approximately two-thirds of interfaith couples are raising the children as Jews. In contrast, before 1970, only 17% of Jews married outside of the religion.

During a critical moment in Torah (Gen.18), Abraham Aveinu pursues rodef (three strangers). This action creates the foundation for Hachnasat Orechim (the welcoming of guests). The Talmud states that this mitzvah of extending hospitality to other people is even more important than welcoming the Shekecheyanu.

Abraham did not wait for the three to approach his tent. Instead, he went after them to offer shelter and the finest food and beverages he had. Furthermore, we recall his tent was open on all sides. This enabled guests to approach from any direction.

One of the things the chuppah represents is building a life and a home that welcomes others, including strangers. Therefore, the mitzvah to welcome isnt aspirational, it is essential to who we are as the Jewish people.

Relationships are complex in any situation, but Jews and non-Jews who create an interfaith family may find themselves navigating particular challenges:

Conflicts and misunderstandings that arise from disapproving in-laws.

Loss of prior relationships because of lack of agreement.

Questions about identity and culture.

Differences in history.

How to raise the children without harming the family of origin or religious group.

These challenges can be intensified during the High Holidays, where membership within Bnai Yisrael is historically required and there isnt a secular component that is easily shared. It can be helpful to anticipate these challenges through conversations and advanced planning, before the High Holidays arise.

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from Your Presence and do not take Your Holy Spirit from me (Psalm 51:12-13).

Themes of introspection, the fragility of life, redemption, renewal, meaning, purpose and Gods compassion infuse this sacred season with possibilities for new understandings. High Holiday communication bridges can be constructed with themes that speak to the hearts and minds of Jews and non-Jews alike. They can foster powerful spiritual and educational moments for children.

But other themes, such as belonging and inclusion, can present obstacles to accessing the beauty of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. This happens when people express disinterest and disapproval. In COVID-19 times, the trope has been, Were in this together. Sometimes, the message to the interfaith family can be very different. This is why it can be beneficial to begin the High Holidays with the spirit of genuine welcoming, something that each branch of Judaism espouses.

The Jewish community will continue to navigate new terrain with the interfaith family for a long time. Along the way, the wisdom of our Jewish tradition will provide blueprints that define pathways for authentic hospitality and inclusion.

Embracing contemporary ideas of what makes a family and what makes a Jew, through doing and being, we can seize a tremendous opportunity to encourage compassionate curiosity. With meaningful inquiry and ongoing collaborations, we can build a spacious and open tent that stands upon the pillars of Judaism; a resilient and optimistic tent that would make Abraham and Sarah very proud. JN

Rabbi Mindie Snyder serves as the rabbi and chaplain for Sun Health Communities.

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Welcoming the High Holidays with the interfaith family | Special Sections - Jewish News of Greater Phoenix

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Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

Coronavirus transforms upcoming Jewish holidays

Synagogues and temples throughout California will sit empty this Rosh Hashanah. KTVU's Jana Katsuyama reports how Jewish faith leaders are adapting to stay safe from the coronavirus.

OAKLAND, Calif. - Bay Area Jewish congregations are preparing to celebrate the Jewish High Holy Days with pandemic protocols this year. Rosh Hashana begins on Friday evening followed by Yom Kippur the following week.

The California Department of Public Health issued a reminder Thursday with three rabbis from the Conservative, Orthodox, and Reform movements of Judaism, urging people to maintain social distancing while worshipping.

AtTemple Beth Abrahamin Oakland, Rabbi Mark Bloom says the familiar sound of the shofar, traditionally made from a ram's horn, typically brings Jewish congregations together to mark the start of Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year.

With the coronavirus pandemic, however, seats will be empty at synagogues and temples throughout California.

"We're changing things significantly for Rosh Hashana this year. The service is mostly virtual as you can imagine. Me and a couple other people are helping to lead in this giant sanctuary," said Rabbi Bloom.

Bloom says only a Torah-reading for teens will be in-person, but quite different with social distancing.

"Normally we have seven people reading from one Torah," he said. "This time we have seven different Torahs, seven different stations to keep everyone safe."

In the Temple Beth Abraham kitchen, cooks wearing masks made traditional foods that are meant to be shared together, but for some will be eaten alone or with family only.

"It's a challenge," Bloom said."I miss people terribly. People miss seeing one another. How do you create a community that's virtual instead of in person?"

That question is at the heart of this year's high holy days.

"This whole process of reinventing the high holidays for COVID times has been a tremendous experience in creativity," said Rabbi Chai Levy ofCongregation Netivot Shalomin Berkeley.

Levy says her congregation held a drive-by holiday pickup this week. Members pulled into the parking lot to receive bags with a traditional honey cake and other items to help celebrate the Jewish New Year.

They also plan to have a virtual celebration online.

The rabbi says they also plan to have the shofar horns covered in masks, along with the people blowing into the shofar horns to help prevent the spread of any aerosol particles that might be carrying the coronavirus.

In Berkeley,Saul's Restaurant & Delicatessenis among the many Bay Area restaurants and bakeries offering takeout with traditional Rosh Hashana dinners of brisket, round challah loaves, and sweet honey and apple cakes.

"I think people are looking for the new year and people are looking to have the comfort of a holiday and foods that they know," said Karen Adelman, co-owner of Saul's.

The message from the rabbis for these difficult times is one of hope.

"I share some stories from Jewish history where there have been times of devastation that lead to new birth and new beginnings," Levy said.

Added Bloom: "It's the turning of a new year, the turning of a new leaf, a chance to be our best selves and make the world a better place."

Residents in the East Bay might hear the call of the shofar horns over the weekend. Congregations in the East Bay are encouraging their members to go outside and join in the sounding of their shofar horns together at 3 p.m. Sunday.

For a list of other Jewish events, click here.

Jana Katsuyama is a reporter for KTVU. Email Jana at jana.katsuyama@foxtv.com and follow her on Twitter @JanaKTVU or Facebook @NewsJana

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Because of COVID, Jews will ring in Rosh Hashana with empty synagogue seats - FOX 7 Austin

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Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

(JTA) At the Jewish Center on Manhattans Upper West Side, this years High Holidays will be anything but normal.

With eight services happening in various spaces throughout the building, on the roof and in the street (closed off to facilitate services), approximately 400 people will gather for socially distanced and masked services at the Modern Orthodox synagogue.

Within just a few blocks of the synagogue, members of eight Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist synagogues will gather at multiple street corners or lean out their windows to hear the shofar after attending Rosh Hashanah services over livestream.

The different services are emblematic of the starkly divided approaches to the High Holidays that American Jews will experience this year. While for Orthodox synagogues, services will largely be held in person, for most non-Orthodox synagogues, prayer will take place over livestream, with in-person offerings confined to short, outdoor rituals.

Even before the pandemic, the two communities were different in many ways. But this years High Holidays have cast new light on the primary difference between Orthodox and non-Orthodox congregations across the country: their approach to halacha, Jewish law.

Jewish law is composed of the biblical and rabbinic texts that guide nearly every aspect of daily life. For Orthodox Jews, Jewish law is considered binding and is meant to be interpreted by rabbinic experts. For Conservative Jews, Jewish law is also considered binding, though the Conservative movement has shown more flexibility in adapting certain rules to changing circumstances. For the Reform movement, rabbinic answers to Jewish legal questions are seen as more advisory than authoritative.

During the pandemic itself, the Conservative movement has adopted some new rabbinic decisions, called teshuvot, to adapt Jewish practice to a socially distanced world.

In March, the Conservative movements Committee on Jewish Laws and Standards ruled that services requiring a minyan, or a quorum of ten adults, could be held over video conferencing in a moment of crisis. In May, the committee ruled that video conferencing could be used for Shabbat and holiday services when electronic devices would generally not be used. Conservative rabbis and congregants even worked with Zoom to make sure streaming would be possible without requiring the violation of other prohibitions.

By contrast, in the Orthodox community, video conferencing is not considered a valid substitute for the 10 adult men needed for an Orthodox minyan. And when it comes to Shabbat and holidays, no major Orthodox rabbis have allowed for the use of video conferencing.

Rabbi Yaakov Robinson, who works at Beis Medrash Mikor Hachaim, an Orthodox synagogue in Chicago, said that for Orthodox Jews, the act of gathering in a synagogue is essential, much like the work done by healthcare and grocery store workers.

In our minds this is as essential of an essential service as possible, said Robinson.

And for Robinson, the High Holidays wont be the first time his synagogue returns to in-person services. His synagogue first reopened for Shabbat services in May, with distanced and masked services, meaning the synagogue has had months of practice. While many Orthodox communities first encouraged backyard minyans, many Orthodox synagogues began reopening at their synagogues in late spring and early summer.

Weve been doing this for so long and weve done well with it, said Robinson of his synagogues services over the last several months.

But to Rabbi Vanessa Ochs, a professor of Jewish studies at the University of Virginia, High Holiday services are no less essential for Reform and Conservative Jews.

Particularly for the thousands of thousands of American Jews who come together once or twice a year for the High Holidays and thats how they identify themselves its a necessity, said Ochs.

For them, the non-Orthodox approach to using technology on holidays means a risk-benefit analysis around whether to hold in-person services yields another conclusion. There is an alternative, said Ochs.

One place where the two parts of the Jewish world will come together is around shofar blowing, a required component of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur observance. While the Reform and Conservative movements have allowed for High Holiday services to take place over Zoom, many synagogues in all parts of the Jewish world have still organized opportunities to hear the shofar in person in an outdoor setting.

Here, too, halacha may play a role, as Conservative rabbis have not issued formal opinions about whether listening to a shofar over Zoom fulfills the commandment to hear its blast. But even more important for some is the chance to give community members a small in-person experience at a time when more is out of reach.

In addition to the shofar blowings organized by the liberal synagogues on the Upper West Side, local Orthodox synagogues have also organized opportunities to hear the shofar outdoors for those who are not comfortable attending a full in-person service, particularly older people or families with young children.

The public shofar blowing may be new for many communities, but the initiative has antecedents in the Chabad movement. Since the 1950s at the direction of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, Chabad emissaries have blown the shofar in parks, hospitals and other public spaces in communities around the world for those who would not otherwise hear the shofar.

Its exciting to me as the rebbes student, said Rabbi Shalom Paltiel of the Chabad Center in Port Washington, New York, that in 2020, 70 years later, everybody is doing it, every temple from every denomination is taking the shofar to the local park.

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A tale of two High Holidays: Why Orthodox Jews are going to synagogue while everyone else is on Zoom - JTA News - Jewish Telegraphic Agency

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Posted By admin on September 19, 2020

MANHASSET, N.Y. A Long Island synagogue congregation that didnt want its cantor to feel lonely during the celebration of the Jewish New Year took a page from the New York Mets, ordering cutouts to be placed in the seats before Fridays services.

Marvin and Barbara Schaffer, active members of The Reconstructionist Synagogue of the North Shore, came up with the idea in the late summer.

Just to have smiling faces looking back at them, I thought it would be a fun thing, Marvin Schaffer said about Cantor Eric Schullmiller and Musical Director Solomon Hoffman, who will be running virtual services during the High Holidays, which begin Friday evening with Rosh Hashanah.

Schaffer and his wife, Barbarawho sings in the choirare die-hard Mets fans, and both liked seeing the cutouts in the Citi Field seats during the abbreviated baseball season.

Even though nobody was in the stands, it brought a little levity to Citi Field, Marvin Schaffer observed.

Another synagogue member, Carrie Klimerman, made some phone calls and learned the Mets got their cutouts from Print Station in New Hyde Park.

Barbara Schaffer turned the idea into a fundraiser for the congregation.

We charged $54 for adults and $36 for children and pets, Schaffer said.

We have two or three dogs in the seats.

Marvin Schaffer called the effort a FUNdraiser.

The couple sold 117 cutouts and donated about $4,500 to the synagogue.

It really also has become a community builder, Barbara Schaffer said.

For those keeping count, this is Jewish New Year 5781.

Marvin Schaffer said they used the lucky number 18represented by the chaito come up with a price for the cutouts.

18 times two is 36, he said, so thats what we charged for the children and dogs.

18 times three is 54, so thats what we charged the adults.

The congregation included a cutout of Mordecai Kaplan, founder of Reconstructing Judaism, in the seats, along with Rabbi Emeritus Ira Eisenstein and his wife, Judith Kaplan Eisenstein, who celebrated the first Bat Mitzvah in American history.

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Long Island synagogue inspired by NY Mets, gets cardboard cutouts of congregation for Rosh Hashanah - WPIX 11 New York

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Editor's Note: Before the pandemic shuttered many houses of worship, WBUR, in partnership with Brandeis Universityand Walking Cinema, embarked on a project to explore non-traditional religious spaces throughout Greater Boston.

The audio-visual project, called "Hidden Sacred Spaces" and underwritten by the National Endowment for the Humanities, takes listeners and viewers inside these little-known places of worship to reveal their significance and histories. As the coronavirus crisis rages on and these tucked away spaces remain closed to the public, this series features three radio stories and 3Daugmented-reality experiences that offer new and otherwise impossible ways for the public to interact with these spaces.

This is the final part of a three-part series.

Edith Klein-Dreezer sits in the front row of a synagogue in a senior home in Roslindale on a sunny November Friday.

At 89 years old, Klein-Dreezer bears a striking resemblance to her idol: Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

"Upstairs in my room, on the door, I have a picture of the Ginsburg lady," she says.

Around her, staff are wheeling in other residents into the open sanctuary. Hali Diecidue, the chaplainof the Hebrew SeniorLife rehabilitation center, stands at the front of the synagogue, holding a guitar.

"Are you ready, Edith?" Diecidue asks. Another staff member brings Klein-Dreezer a microphone.

Diecidue strums a chord, and they launch into the classic Bob Marley song, "Three Little Birds."

This reggae-inspired musical service happens at the Hebrew SeniorLife synagogue every Friday afternoon.

"I really wanted to sing that song," Diecidue says. "It's repetitive, and to me, it says what Shabbat is about. Which is: 'Everything's gonna be alright.' "

Diecidue used to only hold a Kabbalat Shabbat, the traditional Jewish evening service, on Fridays.

But Diecidue, who uses they/them pronouns, says they wanted to create a musical service beforehand that could appeal to residents of different faiths. Bob Marley was their inspiration.

"You've got this moment in time," Diecidue says. "Everything is gonna be alright. And so I changed some of the words and then I started saying it was the anniversary of Bob Marley's bar mitzvah. And, you know, the people with dementia were like, 'oh, all right!' "

It works for 78-year-old Mary Robashaw. Shes a Catholic who lives at the senior center and has been coming to the singing services for the past year.

"My sons calls from France and they say, 'Wheres Mary?' " Robashaw says. " 'Shes at the Synagogue.' And he says, 'Oh Mother of God help us, shes at the synagogue!' "

Dozens of staff from the senior center accompany the residents, like activities coordinator Phillipa Robateau.

She says she grew up in Belize listening to gospel music. Now those songs now help her unwind at the end of her shifts. She says her favorite song is "Since I Laid My Burden Down."

She told Diecidue about it, and now, its part of the Friday service.

"Music is very, very important in the patients life," Robateau says. "Because some patients may not respond to nothing. Nothing. And the minute they hear music, their eyes could be closed, but you could see their hands or their feet moving."

Many of the patients at Hebrew SeniorLife have dementia. But staff seem to agree that music helps them connect to feelings, and memories, when language cant.

"Seeing them go and really soak it in is amazing," says Susan Kalinda, a nurse manager on a dementia floor. "Music is universal."

"We're doing something good for them," she says. "Who knows what they're feeling when they are in that presence of the synagogue. It's definitely different from this routine ... so it does good for them."

Kalinda says she and her team are always looking for ways to connect with their patients. She says about half of her floor grew up speaking Russian so she and her staff are learning Russian.

"Dobroye utro, Dobryy den," Kalinda says to Yvette Robinson, another nurse on her floor. "That's good morning, good afternoon"

"Ya tebya lyublyu. I love you." Robinson responds, laughing. "That's my number one. I love that phrase."

Neither Kalinda nor Robinson are Russian; one grew up in Uganda, the other in Panama.

In many ways, Hebrew Senior Life reflects the larger demographics of elder care in America. Immigrants from places like Haiti, Panama, Uganda and Samoa fill a disproportionate role in caring for an aging, mostly white population.

Its hard work. Physically and emotionally.

Diecidue says they keep this in mind as they try to be a chaplain for both the residents and the staff in a place where death is a constant part of life.

"We sustain over 150 deaths a year," Diecidue says. "So people are opening their hearts and loving these people and then getting their hearts broken almost every day."

Robinson says thats the hardest part.

"You feel a part of you is gone," she says. "And that's a hard thing ... we wish everybody would be alive, but it ain't like that.

"It's not a beautiful process, but we feel at least we know that we did our part, to at least bring a little joy, in life."

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At The Hebrew SeniorLife Synagogue, The Sacred Is Found In Song - WBUR

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