O pinion
of Pharaoh’s successful method
of incremental dehumanization
of our ancestors, fomenting a
division between us (Israelites)
and them (“real” Egyptians).

Jews have learned to trust the
psalmist who warned not to
place eternal “trust in princes
or kings.” But we have also
learned to ask heaven’s help in
appointing leaders who will act
in good trust. In other words, we
pray that our government will
succeed at keeping faith with the
people it is called to serve.

The desecration of America’s
national symbols, the wielding
of weapons on the Congress
floor, the assault on law enforce-
ment and the leaders they were
sworn to protect was nothing
less than an assault on the
health of our country, an act of
American blasphemy.

A faithful person, according
to the great American civil rights
leader Rabbi Abraham Joshua
Heschel, “holds God and man
in one thought at one time, at all
times, who suffers harm done to
others, whose greatest passion
is compassion, whose greatest
strength is love and defiance of
despair.” When a Jew beseeches God to
protect the government, it isn’t
a partisan prayer or the expec-
tation that God will explicitly
intervene in a historical moment.

A prayer for the government is
a kind of citizen’s Hippocratic
Oath. We pledge to protect each
other from harm.

This prayer is a traditional
commitment to society’s welfare,
a ritualized way of ingraining in
the collective Jewish conscience
the biggest command of
all: loving our neighbors as
ourselves. So let us pray. l
Rabbi Menachem Creditor is
the scholar in residence at UJA-
Federation New York. This piece
was first published by JTA.

KVETCH ’N’ KVELL
We Must Be More Inclusive
LETTER-WRITER BETTE KLEIN comments on an article
you published, “Interfaith Couples Navigate Holiday Season”
(Dec. 10), and the effect on Jewish grandchildren. She fails to
understand reality.

I’m an older mom who never would have considered marrying
a non-Jewish man. Times have changed. I have two sons. One
married Jewish, the other not. I love my sons, and I love their
wives. They are all wonderful parents, and I have four grandkids.

In today’s world, we must be more inclusive because we have to.

I can’t reject my son, and I have to accept his choices, including
not having Jewish grandkids.

The reality is that lots of Jews are marrying out, some raising
their kids Jewish and some not. In my case, they’re not raising
their sons Christian or Jewish, just to be good and ethical people.

I can’t ask for anything more.

Susan Yemin | Westfield, New Jersey
B’Nei Mitzvot Are About the Children
I enjoyed reading “Has COVID Killed the B’nei Mitzvah Party?”
(Alex Lazarus Klein, Dec. 28). As an event planner/ designer I
sometimes think I’ve seen it all, but then find myself mistaken.

When parents would agonize who was coming and not coming
to their simcha, I had a simple piece of advice: When you are
facing the bimah, watching your child, it won’t matter who is
sitting behind you. It’s all about your child in that moment. l
Zozzie Golden | via jewishexponent.com
JEWISHEXPONENT.COM Mourning and Joy — at the Same Time
BY RABBI EREZ SHERMAN
THERE ARE PASSAGES of
the Talmud that you learn in
the sacred books and are purely
theoretical, and then there are
pieces of Torah that become your
reality in the blink of an eye.

The famous teaching from
Masechet Ketubot, for example,
instructs, “If a funeral proces-
sion and a wedding procession
meet at an intersection, the
wedding procession goes first.”
Last Wednesday, this
teaching was not rabbinic
advice, but the reality I lived. My
beloved aunt, Rachel Durlacher
(z”l), passed away in Israel.

At 16, she made aliyah from
Philadelphia, met her husband
on Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu and had
10 children and 37 grandchil-
dren. She truly loved the land
and the Jewish people. If you
have ever traveled to Israel with
me, personally or profession-
ally, there was a 100% chance
you met Aunt Rachel.

Rachel never left home
without her chalil, a simple
wooden flute, which she used
to serenade God’s world with
her voice, with her songs, with
her heart and with her soul.

She never left home without a
paintbrush and canvas, putting
the beauty of God’s world on
paper for all of us to witness.

And she never left home
without something to give to
someone in need: a shekel, a
gift, a snack, a piece of Torah.

With the miracle of Zoom,
our family gathered from the
four corners of the earth — at
4:30 a.m. in Los Angeles and 1:30
p.m. in Israel — to remember
JEWISH EXPONENT
her sacred life. But just hours
later, we were scheduled, also
with the miracle of technology,
to celebrate my sister’s wedding.

Nitza and her fiancé Jamie had
waited patiently as COVID-19
postponed the original chupa
date. As they watched world
circumstances deteriorate,
they rescheduled the wedding,
providing us with a moment to
find joy in challenging times.

And we did. For life must
continue, and joy must be
recognized and not delayed.

Seven different family members
around the world recited sheva
brachot, toasts and speeches
through a screen. At the end of
the evening, a bride and groom
rejoiced uvchutzot yerushalayim,
in the streets of Jerusalem.

As I laid my head to sleep
on Wednesday night, I could
not help but marvel at the
wisdom of our tradition. Every
morning, we recite the Psalm,
hafachta mispdi lmachol li,
pitachta saki vatazreni simcha
— God, You turn my mourning
into dancing, You change my
sackcloth into robes of joy. And
that Wednesday, as one part of
my family sat shiva, the other
part recited sheva brachot.

At each wedding I officiate,
I explain the significance of
the number seven, a number of
wholeness and holiness. Shabbat
is on the seventh day, a number
of peace and of completeness.

And yet, as we uttered the
sheva brachot in a moment of
completeness, my family across
the world was also broken.

When we conclude a Jewish
wedding with the smashing of
the glass, we are reminded of the
broken souls who yet wait for a
day of celebration and joy. At the
same time our cousins tore their
garments for keriah in Israel,
we broke a glass in Los Angeles.

Two symbols of brokenness, and
yet two rituals of rebuilding.

Our extended family
has a WhatsApp group. It
is constantly in action, with
family members around the
world, 10 hours apart, talking.

These last seven days have
been particularly active, with
memories that created our
present and recent pictures that
will create our future together.

This year has been a challenge
for each one of us. There has
been mourning and joy all at
once, too many times to count.

As a rabbi, I have learned to
officiate Zoom baby namings,
b’nai mitzvah, funerals and
weddings. From Zoom room to
Zoom room, families stare at me
over a screen in preparation for
these life cycle events, skeptical
that any meaning can come
without physical touch.

But then I receive letters, week
after week, of grateful members
of our community, who now do
not need to imagine a grand-
parent across the country having
an aliyah at a bar mitzvah or
a cousin sharing a story they
have never heard at a shiva.

Community works, despite
physical distance, because of
social and spiritual closeness.

Twelve hours: a funeral and
a wedding; sheva brachot and
shiva; tears of mourning, tears
of joy; a soul remembered and
two souls. It is who we are, and
who we must be. l
Rabbi Erez Sherman is a rabbi at
Sinai Temple in Los Angeles and
the son of Rabbi Charles Sherman
of Melrose B’nai Israel Emanu-
El in Elkins Park. This piece was
originally published in the Los
Angeles Jewish Journal and is
reprinted with permission.

STATEMENT FROM THE PUBLISHER
We are a diverse community. The views expressed in the signed opinion columns and let-
ters to the editor published in the Jewish Exponent are those of the authors. They do
not necessarily reflect the views of the officers and boards of the Jewish Publishing
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
maximum of 200 words and may be edited for clarity and brevity. Unsigned letters will not be
published. JANUARY 14, 2021
17