Rabbi Guzik - A Bisl Torah

In rabbinical school, common advice from mentors included, “Always have a piece of pocket Torah.” Meaning, wherever you find yourself, be ready to share a Torah lesson, story, teaching or message. In a world with so much beauty, tragedy, hope and loss, there should always be a piece of Torah to share. And yet, visually, I think of someone’s pockets. At points in our lives, our pockets feel inside out, empty cloth triangles, revealing an inability to feel joy. Hollow pockets.

In the secular world, this weekend brings in a holiday known for love. Cards exchanged, chocolates consumed, cheesy movies watched. It’s a time in which we show affection for those we care about. But if we are being honest, it is also a time in which we hope to feel honored, valued, and seen. How much of these Hallmark holidays is wondering if a card will end up in our own mailbox?

When is the last time you laughed? Not a quick smile, but the kind of deep belly laugh that comes out of nowhere. That kind of laugh.

Clergy note the coinciding of International Holocaust Remembrance Day and Tu Bishvat, the holiday celebrating the “new year” of the trees. Many themes run between the two calendrical landmarks, but the connection seemed obvious.

In watching the inauguration, so many of us were captivated by Amanda Gorman, the youngest inaugural poet in U.S. History. As riveting her ability to transform history into lyrical song, I was just as moved by her poise and gift in commanding the attention of the watching world. She offered not just a poem, but an experience, engaging us in an urgency to see ourselves in the continuous building of this beautiful country.

Across the globe, it feels as if we are treading water. Part of us submerged, hearing more about who has Covid and the staggering consequences of the disease. And yet, part of us is out of the water, face towards the sun, seeing more people receive the vaccine, a symbol of hope that floating on the water’s surface may be closer than we think. But until that full reality comes to fruition, we continue to struggle out of the water.

Like many of you, my heart shattered as I watched the insurrection at the US Capitol. News blaring in the background, tears streaming down my face, I thought, “What am I teaching my children?”

How do you begin After heartbreak and breakdown Vanished dreams, hurried goodbyes, exhaustion, disappointment, remnants of hope feeling very far away. How do you start over in a world that looks so very upside down?

My inbox is flooded with people searching for hope: those that are physically ill, the bereft and mourning, some lonely with distancing getting harder and harder.

Today, my daughter turns 9 years old.