Rabbi Eleanor Steinman

Below is the sermon I delivered at the late service in the New Hall at Temple Sinai on Rosh Hashanah morning 5771.

Shanah tovah u’metukah – a sweet and good year.

My friend, Marisa[1] has been married for three years.  All of a sudden people she works with started to approach her and make statements like, “Mazal tov.  When are you due?” or “How are you feeling?  You look really great” or “We’ve been waiting for this.  We’re so happy for you and your husband.”  Marisa is not pregnant.  These painful comments were really an unfortunate reminder that she had gained a few extra pounds.  I don’t know when or if Marisa will have children and it isn’t my business.  I do know that over the summer she has been working out and has lost over ten pounds.  All of a sudden the comments are back though pointed in a different direction.  “I didn’t know if I should share that I was worried about you” and “oh, you look good.  I thought maybe…” or “Is everything okay with you and your husband?”  We need to remember to think before we speak. What if she had been pregnant? What if she had a miscarriage? What if there was a story she wasn’t ready, or willing, to share? Too often we forget to be sensitive or forget to use our common sense at all.

There’s no better time to start remembering than today.  The first day of the year, the day we celebrate the birth of the world.

As a society we presume that everyone who wants to can bare children.  When couples have been married for ‘some time,’ we, their family and friends, expect to hear news of a baby on the way.  Those couples that do not wish to have children for whatever reason are an anomaly. Meanwhile, couples may struggle in silence.

In the 21^st century, families are presented with choices unlike those from any other time in history.  When to have children, if to have children and even how to have children are the types of questions individuals and couples grapple with. What seems like something so easy is not.  When individuals or couples decide to be conscientious about trying to reproduce suddenly it isn’t as easy as it seemed when we learned about the birds and the bees.  “A fifth to a quarter of all first-time pregnancies yield to loss instead of life.  Tens of thousands more women cannot begin or hold a pregnancy without medical intervention.”[2] These are the realities.  And no one seems to want to talk about them.

Infertility is stigmatized in our society. It affects at least one in six couples.  As a community we forget to be sensitive. It can’t possibly happen to someone that we know.  It can’t happen to us.  We live in an era of complete openness.  People post on the Internet what were once intimate details of life. However, it is so painful to speak of infertility that many choose not to and in turn, suffer in silence. At the very moment a person or a couple needs support, to know they are not alone there is no means of communicating pain.

For all of our discomfort, our unease, in discussing fertility issues, our Torah is rife with such stories. Abraham is aware of his own lack of virility.  Sarah, our matriarch, turns first to surrogacy. Rebecca struggles to maintain a pregnancy. And Rachel, Rachel might have been on the IVF roller-coaster, if that existed in Biblical times.

The theology of infertility is clear. “The Torah uses barren couples as a literary device to demonstrate the miraculous nature of the conception of the patriarchs and the beneficence of God.”[3] A midrash asks the obvious question—why do all of these matriarchsstruggle to conceive? Rabbi Levi answers: Because the Holy Blessed One desired their prayers. In the Torah, there is only one solution to infertility: God intervenes directly with the childless.

We have something that or biblical ancestors couldn’t conceive of. Modern medicine.

In 2009 the World Health Organization classified infertility as a “disease of the reproductive system defined by the failure to achieve a clinical pregnancy after 12 months or more of regular unprotected sexual intercourse.”’[4] There are a lot of options to combat infertility thanks to medical science. Surrogacy, in vitro fertilization treatments, various fertility drugs and a myriad of other options exist and science is advancing everyday.   The challenge is, as Peggy Orenstein documents, “the descent into the world of infertility is incremental.  Those early steps seems innocuous, even quaint…”[5]

Abraham, laments his own lack of virility when he makes the brit, the covenant, with God.  He cries out, “O Eternal God, what can You give me, seeing that I shall die childless, and the one in charge of my household is [my servant] Eliezer … Since You have granted me no offspring, my steward will be my heir.”[6] When God hears Abraham’s cry for offspring.  Remember, this is the first time we hear of Abraham’s desire for an heir, God sends Abraham outside of his tent and promises that his offspring shall be as plentiful as the stars in the sky.

Sarah, our foremother is infertile. Her own answer to her struggles is to use her maidservant, Hagar. “… Sarah said to Abraham, “Look, the Eternal has kept me from bearing. Consort with my maid; perhaps I shall have a son through her.” And Abraham heeded Sarah’s request. So Sarah, Abraham’s wife, took her maid, Hagar the Egyptian … and gave her to her husband Abraham as concubine. He cohabited with Hagar and she conceived; and when she saw that she had conceived, her mistress was lowered in her esteem.”[7]

Sarah gives Abraham a child the only way she knows how, through surrogacy.

In our 21^st century world, surrogacy is an important option.  For women with reproductive challenges and for same-sex couples that want children as a part of their family, surrogacy is a means to that end.

What must it have been like for the biblical Rachel?  She is the beloved wife of Jacob yet she is barren while her sister Leah has successful pregnancy after successful pregnancy.  Anita Diamant describes in The Red Tent that “Rachel miscarried again and again … she no longer hated Leah with the full force of the past, Rachel could not smile at her sister while her own body remained fruitless … Rachel tried every remedy, every potion, every rumored cure.  She wore only red and yellow—the colors of life’s blood and the talisman for healthy menstruation … Whenever she saw running water, she lay down in it, hoping for the life of the river to inspire life within her.”[8] When she complains to Jacob, he says to her, “Can I take the place of God, who has denied you fruit of the womb?”[9] Rachel masks her own pain and sends her maidservant to lie with Jacob.  Bilhah bares two children.

Peggy Orenstein was a happily married 35-year-old when she decided she wanted to have a baby. While she knew it might not be easy (she had only one ovary and was heading into her late 30s), she had no idea of the troubles she’d face. First, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, fortunately treatable. After waiting the recommended recovery period, she miscarried with a dangerous “partial molar pregnancy,” so she had to avoid becoming pregnant for at least six months. Soon she was riding the infertility roller coaster full-time, trying everything from acupuncture to IVF and egg donation. She endured depression and more miscarriages while spending untold thousands of dollars. Even her very understanding husband was beginning to lose patience, when, surprisingly, she got pregnant with her daughter, Daisy. She documents her initial desire not to have children and that shift which her husband supported.  She writes in Waiting for Daisy,

“Without form, there is no content.  So even in this era of compulsive confession, women don’t speak openly of their losses.  It was only now that I’d become one of them, that I’d begun to hear the stories, spoken in confidence, almost whispered.  There were so many.  My aunt.  My grandmother.  My sister-in-law.  My friends.  My editors.  Women I’d known for years—sometimes my whole life—who had had this happen sometimes over and over and over again but felt they couldn’t, or shouldn’t mention it.  My shock and despair were, in part, a function of improved technology and medical care.” [10]

Rebecca our Biblical mother, Isaac’s beloved, is barren.  Isaac “pleaded with the Eternal on behalf of his wife, because she was barren; and the Eternal responded to his plea, and his wife Rebekah conceived. But the children struggled in her womb…”[11] This is an early reference to the difficulty of pregnancy. Rebecca is bemoaning her physical pain.  According to Ibn Ezra, a biblical commentator, when Rebecca inquired of other women if they experienced such pains these women all said no.[12] I believe Rebecca’s turmoil in this pregnancy is illustrative of what the reality in one of five pregnancies is: miscarriage.

Anywhere between 10-25% of pregnancies spontaneously end before 20 weeks gestation reports a leading College of Obstetricians and Gynecology.[13] With something so surprisingly common, we don’t often hear about it and when individuals or couples go through this painful physical and emotional process they do it alone.  Orenstein writes, “many of us choose to bear this sorrow alone.  Perhaps because we do not trust our neighbors and community with our most tender feelings.  Perhaps because we fear political misuse our mourning over a child that is not yet a child.  Perhaps because we fear what will happen if we dare to open the gates of our bulging reservoir of pain.”[14]

For the ancient rabbis, it is a woman who teaches them what it means to open those gates. Hannah, whose words and story we read today, becomes a model for spontaneous prayer. And what inspires her? Her own fertility struggles. Though her husband loves her more than his other wife, the Eternal closed her womb, or so says the text.  Hannah was completely distraught.  During the annual pilgrimage to Shiloh she couldn’t eat or drink of the sacred meal.  “In her wretchedness, she prayed to the Eternal, weeping all the while.  And she made this vow: Adonai Tz’vaot, if You will look upon the suffering of Your maidservant, and will remember me and not forget Your maidservant, and if You will grant Your maidservant a male child, I will dedicate him to the Eternal for all the days of his life…”[15]

It isn’t only God who takes note of Hannah.  Eli the priest, watched Hannah’s mouth.  Hannah’s lips moved but he could hear no sound.  Making his own assumptions, Eli takes Hannah for a drunkard.  He called out to her, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Sober up!”[16] Hannah turns to the priest, the man of God, “Oh no, my lord! I am a very unhappy woman. I have drunk no wine or other strong drink, but I have been pouring out my heart to the Eternal.  Do not take your maidservant for a worthless woman; I have only been speaking all this time out of my great anguish and distress.”[17] Eli is impressed with Hannah.  He begs her to go in peace and wishes her prayers be answered. She conceives and bares a son who becomes the prophet Samuel.

Let us not be naïve. Not everyone who battles infertility gets to know fertility.  While the success stories are widely available in books, magazines, online, and from friends the reality is not so.  However it is described, defeat, reframing, or plan b, it is never easy to accept a new reality and come to peace with it.

In The Motherlode Blog, Shelagh Little writes,

“Almost two years ago, I resolved to accept that I would never have children. I was 37 and had just learned my IVF procedure had failed. Our eight-year struggle with infertility included six rounds of artificial insemination, clomid pills, hormone injections, a surgery, and countless (and sometimes painful) diagnostic procedures. Every new test and treatment carried with it the hope that this time, it would work. What I had to show for it all: a picture of three sad little clumps of cells — the embryos that didn’t implant — and no real explanation of why I couldn’t get pregnant.

Every woman facing infertility has to decide when she’s had enough, when she has reached her ethical, emotional, and/or financial edge. My sense of self- efficacy dictated that if I researched all the options, sought support from the right professionals and followed their instructions, I’d get what I wanted. I did all of these things to the point of obsession, but our options were running out… my main reason for calling it quits was that I was tired of feeling frustrated and desperate. I needed to stop trying so I could get back to living.”[18]

No one is less of a man or a woman because he or she is infertile just as the couple that does not want children is no less valid as a family. We get to choose our family.  That is the reality today.

Hannah reminds us how to pray and travel deep into the depths of our own desire.  It is okay to subscribe to the idea that God interceded on her behalf and to hope that God will do the same for us.  It is also clear that for our Biblical women calling out to God is the only prescription to combat infertility.  We turn to prayer, and we also turn to science to answer our prayers and relieve our pain.   We also need to turn to our communities and our families of origin and choice because the journey through infertility is not one that any couple should face alone.  And we those families need to remember to view everyone with compassion.

Hannah serves as a model of prayer for our ancient rabbis, though it is doubtful that they imagined—or wanted to imagine—the depth of her pain. The story of Hannah reminds us that too often women’s experience is absent from the stories and rituals that comprise our tradition.  Today, women and men need Jewish acknowledgement of the sometimes painful path to parenthood, need Jewish language to mourn dreams and hopes, need Jewish ritual to mark endings and new beginnings. These newer rituals are based on our rich textual tradition and include things like immersion in the mikveh, prayers, and transition ceremonies in a circle of loving friends and family acknowledging the loss.  These ritual innovations are a direct result of the need for to mark this experience in a sacred way.  I know I speak on behalf of the entire Temple Sinai family, especially our clergy, when I say that we are here.  No one needs to go through any of this alone.

“Ribono Shel Olam, Creator of the World, You answered the prayers of our matriarchs Sarah, Rachel, and Hannah during this month of Tishrei.  You listened to their pleas and opened their wombs, helped them conceive and brought them to a healthy birth.  So may You respond to the cry of all those who call out to You today.  On this, the day that celebrates the birth of the world, remember us.  Our God and God of our ancestors, be compassionate.  Let those who so desire conceive this year, and let the children who comes forth be endowed with a soul of gentleness and holiness. For those who desire to bring a child into their family through the adoption process, may their child-by-choice come into their family at the right time and in the right way.  May Your compassion ease the transition as their families expand overnight. May You teach compassion to those of us who are childless, teaching us to forgive our bodies and ourselves and to find comfort in the relationships we determine to be holy. God, remind us to guard our tongues from evil and hurtful questions.  Let us know holiness and wholeness.  So may it be Your will.”

Ken y’hi ratzon. May this be God’s will.

[1]Name changed to protect identity.

[2] Cardin, Tears of Sorrow, Seeds of Hope, p. 14.

[3] Lieber, Valerie.  “Contemporary Reflections” Parshat Toldot.  A Women’s Torah Commentary, 152.

[4] http://www.iaac.ca/content/world-health-organisation-recognises-infertility-disease. August 19, 2010.

[5] Ibid. Location 1042.

[6] Gen. 15:2-3.

[7] Gen. 16:1-4

[8] Diamant, Anita.  The Red Tent. Picador USA, 1997. 46-47.

[9]Gen. 30:12

[10] Ibid.  Location 2000.

[11]Gen 25:21-22.

[12] My understanding of Ibn Ezra on Gen. 25:22.

[13]http://www.americanpregnancy.org/pregnancycomplications/miscarriage.html

[14]Cardin, 14-15.

[15]1 Sam. 1:10-11.

[16]1 Sam. 1:14.

[17]1 Sam. 1:15-16.

[18] Shelagh Little, “Life After Infertility Treatments Fail,” Motherlode Blog, The New York Times, Sept. 10, 2009.

Dear Blog Reader,

Happy New Year!  I hope that 5771 is a year filled with joy, happiness, friendship, love, adventure, laughter that makes you almost have to pee, delicious meals shared in fascinating company, pleasant surprises, meaningful family time, justice for all, excellent concerts, new technology to streamline, learning, lots of wins by favorite sports teams, awesome vacations, and peace for all people of the world.  May the Source of Blessing grant each of us fulfillment.  May the shofar’s sound remind us of the work that needs to be done and may the words of our Tradition inspire us to partner with God and one another in the completion of that sacred work.

If you’re in the T-Dot and don’t have tickets, remember you are welcome at TS on the 2nd day of Rosh Hashanah and for the afternoon of Yom Kippur (including Yizkor).

From my screen to yours, Shanah Tovah Tikateyvu!

@rabbisteinman

I know, I know it has been a long time since I posted.  What can I say, it isn’t because I have been lounging around.  There’s been lots of writing that will be revealed later, after TS hears it first.

And because there will be a lot of kissing of lots of people coming in the next few days, I thought it would be appropriate to share this story about the social etiquette of kissing.  This is not to suggest that I expect any kisses from anyone when the other TS senior staff and I stand in the foyer and wish nearly 5,000 people “shanah tovah.”  In fact, if you’re sick or feeling at all under the weather you should stay far away.  I say that in the most loving way of course (if you’re that sick, you probably need to stay home).

I need to go back to that other writing now, I hope that in the coming year I will be able to write a little bit more frequently about lots of things.  If there are any topics of interest to you, please let me know.

Yes, I’m a grown up and I love my mommy and am not embarrassed to tell the world!

Today is MOM’s birthday!  Hooray.  In honor of it being the 24th of August, here are 24 of the billions of things I love about her.

1.  She has a wonderful smile

2.  As far as mom’s go, she is top-notch

3.  You think you know strong women? My mom is the strongest woman I know.

4.  She’s a cancer survivor (aka she kicked cancer in the butt).  And she didn’t get annoyed when I would sing the theme song from Rocky every time another chemo treatment was over.

5.  Have you noticed a nice sweater DAD, THE DIVA or I were wearing?  She probably knit it.

6.  Some people have mom’s that are great bakers.  Sure she probably could if she wanted to, however my mom is a fantastic cook.  She makes the best tomato sauce in the world

7.  When we’re walking somewhere together, we hold hands

8.  She can touch the tip of her tongue to the tip of her nose

9.  When playing any type of trivia game, you absolutely want her on your team (she always knows the answers to pink Trivial Pursuit questions!)

10.  She rocks at name that tune

11.  She would sing a song that her mom wrote to THE DIVA and I when we were little

12.  She has really cool glasses

13.  Her laugh is infectious

14.  Though I’m five inches taller than she is, her hands are bigger than mine.

15.  She makes the very best matzoh ball soup on the planet

16.  When THE DIVA and I were little, we had season tickets to the theater

17.  Need someone to listen to you?  Call my mother

18.  She is really good at Scrabble.  Really good.  Do not play for money against her

19.  This woman knows how to have a good time

20.  She likes to throw parties and entertain

21.  She has a generous spirit

22. My mom gives really good back scratches (right BIRTHDAY BUDDY?)

23.  When my mom was in high school she was in a production of “Where’s Charlie.”  We have a record of her singing.  That’s right.  My mom. On a record.

24.  She’s with it.  All of a sudden the woman likes everything THE DIVA and I do on facebook!

Happy birthday to the best mother I’ve ever had.  I love you VERY much!

Yesterday I learned that Rabbi Edward M. Tenenbaum ז”ל passed away.  Rabbi Tenenbaum was the rabbi at my grandparents’ synagogue, Temple Beth Zion, in Los Angeles.  He was 92 years old.

I think when I was little (we’re talking very young) I thought that Rabbi Tenenbaum was what a rabbi looked like.  From what I remember he always wore a black suit and a simple tie.  He always smiled at people and remembered details of their lives (or maybe he just remembered details of my life?).  He had a distinctive voice that could fill a room if he wanted, but was most often gentle and soothing.

GRANDMA and PAPA were very active members of Temple Beth Zion in its prime.  Rabbi Tenenbaum, and his late wife, Florence (who was always called “The Rebbetzin”) were always treated as special guests and I remember going up to both of them at the urging of GRANDMA to say hello.  MOM and DAD, of course also always urged me, too.  I was fairly well mannered.  MOM, DAD, GRANDMA and PAPA taught me more directly how to have respect for the rabbi.  Respect that I still have for rabbis even as I am one. (Upon hearing of his death, UNCLE H recollected that he was the rabbi at his Bar Mitzvah and that was more than 35 years ago!  I guess all of us Steinmans have respect for rabbis.)

Many years ago when PAPA was still alive, there was a special celebration for Rabbi Tenenbaum.  PAPA, who almost never asked me to do anything, asked me to go and represent our family.  While the evening represents many hours that I won’t get back, it was truly a pleasure to be there for Rabbi Tenenbaum.  It meant so much to him that I was there, even he started to introduce me to people, including many of his contemporaries.

I would see Rabbi Tenenbaum at various other events when I was a rabbinic student.  Sometimes when I was a student rabbi he would be at the mikveh.  (I think he always knew who I was because I resemble GRANDMA so much, or maybe it was because I always said my name).  I remember going up to him at the Southern California Board of Rabbis Sermon Seminar and his delight in knowing that I was going to become a colleague.  I invited him to my ordination, though he wasn’t able to attend he sent me a lovely note which I still have.

Rabbi Tenenbaum was one of the good ones.  May his memory be for a blessing.

For the past week I have moved to what I like to think of my northern summer office, URJ Camp George.  For the past three summers I have spent a week on beautiful Maple Lake.  This year the weather has been idyllic.  Sun, heat, cool evenings, and a little bit of rain to keep all of the beautiful foliage green (and almost no mosquitoes!).  Even more importantly, the programming has been stellar, the song sessions rockin’, and there have been abundant smiling faces all around.

I strongly believe in the importance of Jewish summer camps.  The URJ happens to have some amazing facilities and options available.  There is no better way for our youth to live their Judaism on a day-to-day basis than Jewish overnight camp.  Whenever I can, I encourage my congregants to think about sending their children to Camp George (it is the only Canadian URJ camp after all) because I believe that the Reform Jewish values that are inculcated in fun, exciting ways are the ideal supplement to whatever students are learning in school (public, Jewish day, and religious).

This year’s education theme at George, “Just.Be.Holy” is the perfect example of the magic of camp.  With age-appropriate silliness, content, action, and sport (The Holy Goalie, something every Canadian can love), the campers have learned more meaningful Jewish content than I can even quantify.  Yesterday two units took the “Holiness Challenge,” and the number of campers who were screaming answers to questions like, “fill in the blanks–don’t place a stumbling block before the __________________ or insult the _____________________,” is inspiring.  (If you don’t know the answer check Lev. 19:14).

As a congregational rabbi, my role at camp is extra special.  I believe that when I get to camp, I am coming to my campers/congregants’ universe.  Camp is their special place that I get to visit.  When I see them walking around, or even better when they come running up to me to show me their arts & crafts project or I give them a ‘yasher koach’ (mad props) for doing a reading during services there’s a special interaction here.  Though I’m blessed to work in a congregation where many of the students/kids/families feel at home, often they are coming into my space.  (How many of the nursery students think that I live at the synagogue?  A lot!).  Camp is different.  They get to see me walking around in casual clothes, singing their songs, teaching them in fun and silly ways.  It is the best of both worlds for both of us.

A personal confession–I didn’t go to camp as a kid.  There were lots of reasons, most of them in hindsight, not that good.  It is one of my biggest regrets because I am totally a camp person.  I am lucky that I am able to make up for lost time and go to camp as a faculty member (this is my fifth summer at  a URJ camp).

Temple Sinai sent an impressive number of campers to Camp George this year (I think 49 but don’t quote me).  We also had a number of staff members that are members of the community in Toronto.  I know I am joined by my fellow senior staff members when I say that we would love to meet with any congregants about Camp George and how to get your children there.

Sending our children to Jewish overnight camp is, I believe, the best way to ensure their Jewish futures and ours, too.

My fellow rabbis at Temple Sinai, Michael Dolgin and Erin Polonsky and I are talking about our High Holy Day sermons before they’re even entirely complete!  That’s right, each one of us is ‘tweeting’ about one of our sermons @tweetsofawe.  Everyday, except for Shabbat of course, one of us will post something about one of our sermons (we use our initials so you could know who is who).*

MD will post about his Yom Kippur morning sermon which can be heard at the early and late service in the Sanctuary on Yom Kippur.

Did you know there is a new Multigenerational Rosh Hashanah morning service?  This service will take place in the New Hall beginning at 9:30am.  EP will be tweeting all about it!

Kol Nidre takes place on Friday, September 17, 2010.  ES will tweet about her sermon that will be heard at the early and late service that evening.

After the holidays I will be posting my sermons here as well so you can see what the final product is.

*You do not need to be on twitter to follow us.  Just click on the word @tweetsofawe and you will be guided to the link

Dear Mom and Dad,

Happy anniversary!  I hope it isn’t too embarrassing that now the whole blogosphere knows about your anniversary, but after 34 years you deserve it.

Obviously, thanks for getting married.  I know that as your child the perfection that is your marriage is only my naive, we’re talking about my parents here, view.  But you’ve taught THE DIVA and I so much about healthy relationships by your example and we’re both grateful for that.

Here are some of the things I’ve learned.

1.  Laughter is key.  Laughing together not only is fun, it alleviates stress and brings joy to everyone.

2.  It is okay to wear matching shirts.  No seriously, you both are extremely supportive of one another.  Whether it be a new hobby or an old one, being the #1 support during yucky experiences, or doing simple things to make the other one smile, you both are tops at this.

3.  Never go to bed angry.  (Is it really possible though?) I know it was your aim and I think it is a good one.  (I always wondered, when you were really angry about something did you just stayed up all night in order not to break it)?  I realize that going to bed angry means you can still go to bed mad or upset.  I know it must have been hard sometimes to let things go, but, if I could be rabbinic for a moment, it really helps at times like this (Elul, getting ready for all of that repenting/returning) to move beyond the anger.

Of course you’ve taught me lots of other things, like how adorable it is to have matching iPads, how to raise two fantastic daughters, and how to transition into new phases of life together.  I’m forever grateful to be your daughter.   Everyone who knows you is  incredibly blessed that on that lovely day 34 years ago you decided to get married (yes I know the decision was made before that, it was just the actual day of the wedding).  Keep up the good work!

Love you lots and lots,

E

(My biggest fan, the DIVA wants more personal posts and less articles.  So…)

That’s right, dear reader.  The month of Elul has begun.  In synagogueland this means things are in high gear for membership renewals, sermon writing, religious school starting, and about a zillion other things.  Elul marks a unique spiritual time, too.  Because Rosh Hashanah is one month away, it being on the 1 Tishrei and all, Elul serves as a calendar reminder everyday of the preparation needed to prepare oneself fully for the High Holidays.

For me, the beginning of Elul = increase in stress big time. More on this another time.

However, this month in the Jewish calendar coincides with the celebration of Ramadan in the Muslim calendar (it’s that whole lunar calendar thing).  This year there’s something particularly poignant for these two special months aligning.  Perhaps in doing the cheshbon ha’nefesh, spiritual accounting in preparation for the new year we Jews can think about our Muslim brothers and sisters and how to be bridge builders.  (I am resisting the urge to reference the Islamic Center near the WTC site and linking to an article).

I certainly have a lot of accounting to do.  Better get to it!

To my father and Uncle H! They were the only two who responded which perspective they ‘liked’ the most.