O pinion
A Dispatch from Dark Days in Texas
BY BETSY MARKMAN
DO YOU KNOW the scene in
“Willy Wonka & the Chocolate
Factory” when all four grand-
parents share the same bed in
an effort to keep warm? Texas
has been like that this week,
but without a daughter at the
stove cooking soup.

I am currently in the suburbs
northwest of Austin, Texas,
where I am sitting out the power
outages in a friend’s guestroom.

I am warm, safe, dry, fed and
enjoying the company of
several others. We’re very fortu-
nate. Exceedingly fortunate to
have what we need and be able
to offer warmth, hospitality,
cooked food and electricity
to others.

I write this on the third
day of my evacuation, the
fourth day of the storm, a few
hours before (hopefully) we
pick up an emergency supply
of my heart medication that I
spent hours yesterday getting
transferred to the only open
pharmacy in this suburb of
80,000 people.

Day 4 sees fresh snow on
top of ice on top of 6 inches
of existing snow that hasn’t
melted. Any that’s disappeared
is being heated in someone’s
home to be used either to flush
toilets or to melt into drinking
water. Day 4 sees hunger set in
for those whose food requires
actual cooking.

Day 4 sees people give up
hope. Day 4 is when we start
hearing of people discovering
deceased neighbors in the snow.

My apartment is a mile
from the JCC in Austin. My
power went out early Monday
morning and
returned yesterday, three hours after
the water was turned off until
further notice. The apartment
is one of 300 in my complex, in
a neighborhood of a half-dozen
such complexes, shopping areas
and private homes. They’re all
dark, and they’re all cold.

The neighborhood is about
50 years old, and the city never
ran gas lines, so everything
is all electric and has had no
power at all since the wee
hours of Monday night. The
temperature has been below
freezing the whole time, down
to 9 degrees Tuesday.

When I woke up at 4 a.m.

Monday, I was cold, but my
Facebook friends told me
we were part of a system of
40-minute rolling blackouts.

Forty minutes off, four hours
on. No big deal. Then 40
minutes turned to four hours,
then seven hours and finally
40 hours. My phone service
went out by 7 a.m. Monday, so
I just lay in bed reading on my
iPad. The phone lit up at 8 with
Facebook messages and texts,
including a note from a good
friend in the suburbs who had
light, gas heat and a gas stove.

He also drives a pickup.

I messaged him and asked
if I might be able to stay with
him and asked him to pick me
up if I still didn’t have power
by noon. The phone service
went out again, and we didn’t
connect until about 2 p.m.,
when I borrowed the phone
of a neighbor with a different
carrier. I texted this friend, as
well as my dad and my son on
opposite coasts.

I know my city doesn’t really
have snowplows, but I didn’t
expect his 30-minute round
trip to take more than two
hours. He was unable to get
up the hill into my apartment
complex and parked a block
from the entrance, two blocks
from me. He walked uphill the
rest of the way, then walked
back down carrying three days’
worth of my supplies.

I evacuated early. I am
not sure how well I could
have survived in an unheated
home with no communica-
tion. I feel guilty as I use my
fully charged phone to read
Facebook updates from friends
who are charging their phones
in the cars. Facebook has been
amazing during this time, as
the few in my neighborhood
group who have four-wheel-
drive SUVs transport firewood,
diapers and food from neighbor
to neighbor.

The local middle school has
become a “warming station”
but only until 9 p.m. The
synagogue I attend opened
this morning as a refuge, one
hour after the power came back
and water was confirmed. The
giving and sharing are heart-
warming and among the most
important work happening
anywhere in the country.

COVID-19 complicates
everything about this recovery,
and I wonder if we’ll have
repercussions from the fact
that many families are doubled
up, with far more human
contact than anyone has had
in months. One of the people
who evacuated to the home
where I’m staying has not had
either COVID jab. I’ve had
both plus two weeks for them
to take effect, and my host has
had one.

Shabbat arrives tomorrow
night, and I look forward to
hearing my host chant kiddush
after I light candles. Other
candles have been far more
important this week. l
Betsy Markman is a middle school
ESL teacher in Austin, Texas.

Embracing a Different Kind of Purim Tradition
BY SHARON WEISS-GREENBERG
ONE YEAR AGO, we were
debating how to navigate Purim
carnivals — not whether they
should take place. We were told
that masks would not protect
you from COVID-19 and were
to be worn to celebrate Purim
18 FEBRUARY 25, 2021
purely for entertainment.

Last year, my family
dressed and attended Megillah
readings with fewer than 100
people, which was considered
extremely cautious at the time.

By forgoing a potluck Purim
meal for pizzas that were deliv-
ered and served to family units,
we did not feel like we were
compromising the holiday too
much — and in making said
minor adjustments, we were in
fact going above and beyond
the then gold standard to
prevent the spread of COVID-
19. A number of people sent
coronavirus-themed mishloach
manot or dressed up like
Corona beer, but we all thought
that this would pass well before
we had set our tables for the
Passover seder.

We were living in a more
innocent time. The novel
coronavirus that originated in
China would soon sweep the
globe, but for many of us it
still felt far away. Testing was
halting at first, and it wasn’t
until after we had put away our
Purim groggers and costumes
that we became fully aware of
how dramatically cases around
the world had begun to spike.

Then the lockdowns began and
life has never been the same.

Since Purim one year ago,
we have adjusted, adapted
and found compromises —
both clever and painful — for
observing and celebrating
JEWISH EXPONENT
Jewish holidays. We’ve gone
virtual for many rituals and
services, and done our best
to maintain connections,
relationships and commu-
nity. It seems that as we
approach each holiday still
knee-deep in the pandemic,
we begin by worrying about
what this holiday can look
like. We wonder how we can
salvage the joyful, meaningful
experiences. When it comes to Purim,
this feels especially painful.

Not only are we one year into
the pandemic, but Purim
translates especially poorly to
Zoom. How can we experience
the cathartic joy, the carniva-
lesque release, the downright
silliness when we are not
together? But instead of trying to
recapture the raucous joy
of Purim, it’s time to adjust
our attitude and lean into a
different, often neglected side
of this holiday.

There are four mitzvot
related to the holiday of Purim:
reading the Megillah of Esther
(which tells the story), eating
and drinking in a festive
manner, sending mishloach
manot (edible food packages)
and giving to the poor.

This last should be our
focus. We will still read the Megillah
See Weiss-Greenberg, Page 38
JEWISHEXPONENT.COM



O pinion
Overcoming Imposter Syndrome as
a Rabbi
BY RABBI DAHLIA BERNSTEIN
I AM LATE TO Yom Kippur
– which isn’t a problem except
I’m leading services. My flight to
Rochester was canceled, and my
father, who is also a rabbi, is now
standing in for me until I arrive.

I get to the building, and services
have started when I peer into the
sanctuary, and I see my father
killing it from the bimah.

My heart sinks, and I almost
don’t go in. Imagine Rabbi
Bernstein Sr. — suit, salt-and-
pepper beard and a James Earl
Jones baritone voice. Then
there is me — an ill-fitting
suit, mezzo-soprano voice and
racking insecurities.

Whether it is rational or
not, I feel like an impostor
and know they will see right
through me.

I spent many years working
through the feeling that I
would never be enough. I both
fiercely defended my right to
be a rabbi and also secretly
felt fearful that I wasn’t the
expert that they needed me to
be. To some degree, everyone
feels that way when they enter
a new position, yet for some,
that feeling lingers. One fear
is that the quirk we think is
so unprofessional may under-
mine our leadership, and the
“impostor” within it wants to
run and hide.

One issue I have with using
the phrase “imposter syndrome”
is that people often just stop
there. We sit in the uncomfort-
able space of not feeling like we
JEWISHEXPONENT.COM are enough, and because this
space feels so familiar, we accept
that feeling like an impostor will
just have to be the cost of being
a leader. We get stuck looking
at those who seem so confident
and think, “If only I could be
more like them.”
So we contort and spend our
energy trying to be something
we are not. It’s a cycle, and it
has to end for you to feel the
freedom and power you are
looking for. Before his death,
Rabbi Zusya said, “In the
coming world, they will not ask
me, ‘Why were you not Moses?’
They will ask me, ‘Why were
you not Zusya?”’
Mic drop.

want our institutions and this
beautiful tradition to flourish,
then leaders and communities
need to be courageous enough
to embody today’s diverse
voices. I guarantee you that if
it is your truth, it is someone
else’s truth, too.

And we cannot risk
losing any member of our
precious tribe because of our
insecurities. After all, the amount of
energy it takes to try to be
someone we are not can be
spent in more productive ways.

We are leaking energy that
could be better used in the
service of our greater values
and our institution’s missions.

KVETCH ’N’ KVELL
Twerski Was ‘Astounding’
THE FIRST TIME I HEARD the name of Abraham Twerski was
at a seder in Milwaukee in 1958. One of my first jobs when I gradu-
ated from college was in Kenosha, Wisconsin, and living in the
Midwest was new to me. A local family did not want me to be alone
on Passover and insisted that I go with them to a relative’s seder in
Milwaukee. The seder had almost 40 people — relatives, friends and
strangers who were far from home.

During the seder, the locals were talking about an Orthodox
medical student who was so smart and brilliant that he was
astounding the faculty at the medical school — Abraham
Twerski. Reading the op-ed in the Exponent by Rabbi Zvi Gluck
(“Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski Made Jewish Addiction Work
Possible,” Feb. 11) is a reminder of my own experience, and
filled in more information about the life and work of Abraham
Twerski. Jerome Leventhal | Silver Spring, Maryland
Democrats Do Support Israel
Lisa Sandler’s letter (“Lifelong Democrat Shares Concerns,” Feb.

11) claims that “Democrats are no supporters of Israel … ” I
have no idea how she comes to this gross generalization, but I
am a lifelong Democrat, have been a Lower Merion Democratic
committeeman, am a founder of Democratic Jewish Outreach
PA, a federal PAC, and I am and have been my entire life a strong
We cannot risk losing any member of our
supporter of the state of Israel. I have purchased Israel bonds,
precious tribe because of our insecurities.

visited relatives in Israel many times, and I’ve raised campaign
funds for Sen. Bob Casey and other strong supporters of Israel.

Casey, a Democrat, has voted for every military and other aid bill
Martin Buber shared Rabbi So what if I told you that not in support of Israel in Congress.

So, Democrats are supporters of Israel, contrary to Sandler’s
Zusya’s gut-punching message only could you be yourself, but
long before anyone was talking you could be precisely what misguided letter.

David Broida | Bryn Mawr
about “impostor syndrome.” your boss, your co-workers and
Despite powerful teachings the Jewish people need? It’s
like this, we still fear leading real, and it’s simple, and the It Feels Like Proof
the Jewish community we love first step is to accept that you
so much. When questions that don’t need all of the answers “Finding God in Nature After My Dog’s Death” (Feb. 11) was a
magnificent piece of writing that brought me to tears. It totally
might change the way “things right now to be powerful.

were done” come our way, even
Your intuition — combined expresses my feelings about how nature is absolute proof there
if we have innovative ideas, with logic and emotional must be some kind of God. l
Sherry Wolkoff | Marlton, New Jersey
many of us hear this subver- awareness — will help you
sive voice that screams, “You’re locate the resources you need.

going to mess it up” or “They Accepting yourself is not the
STATEMENT FROM THE PUBLISHER
We are a diverse community. The views expressed in the signed opinion columns and let-
won’t respect you if … ”
same thing as “letting yourself
ters to the editor published in the Jewish Exponent are those of the authors. They do
That voice is a nasty gremlin off the hook.” Self-acceptance
not necessarily reflect the views of the officers and boards of the Jewish Publishing
planted in our minds many is the key to leadership.

Group, the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia or the Jewish Exponent. Send
letters to letters@jewishexponent.com or fax to 215-569-3389. Letters should be a
years ago to protect us and
Consider what Rabbi
maximum of 200 words and may be edited for clarity and brevity. Unsigned letters will not be
keep us small, yet it rears its Nahman of Bretslov said:
published. ugly head when the moment “When you were born, the
calls us to lead in a big way. Universe decided it could not
Interestingly, the fear is live without you.”
twofold: both that we are too
You are — and always have
weak to make a difference and been — enough. l
Tell us what you’re thinking and interact with the
that we are so powerful that
we can corrupt this vast and Dahlia Bernstein is the spiritual
community at jewishexponent.com
long-lasting tradition with just leader of Congregation Beth
Connect with us on
one decision.

Ohr in Bellmore, New York. This
It is a communal impera- piece was first published by
tive to lead as ourselves. If we eJewishPhilanthropy.

Join the conversation!
JEWISH EXPONENT
FEBRUARY 25, 2021
19