Calling All Nachshons!

A blog post by Neely Snyder, Director of Teen Engagement.

I recently had the pleasure of spending the weekend with some Jewish teens with leadership ambitions in their schools for the Teens Can Identify (TCI) Student Leadership Retreat.  Ten students from six non-Jewish independent schools came together to further develop their communication skills in their journeys toward holding positions as Jewish leaders.   It was appropriate that the Torah portion that week was Beshalach, the story of the Israelites approaching the Red Sea with Pharaoh’s army following them.  The midrash says that while the rest of the people refused to test the waters and their faith that God was with them, Nachshon Ben Aminadav stepped in and continued to walk until the water reached his nose before the sea split.  Call it faith, courage, guts or confidence… something pushed him to lead by example. 

The students who chose to spend part of their weekend with us represent a strong Jewish community in the Independent Schools.  They strive to balance their academic obligations, allegiances to sports teams, family lives and friendships, and still make time to develop their Jewish selves as leaders in their schools.  It is very easy for these students to “hang their Jewish hats on the wall” when they enter their schools, but many of these students see a value in creating space in their schools for Jewish students to come together, celebrating their shared traditions.  They also demonstrate a sense of obligation to their larger school communities to help educate their peers about Jewish customs, holidays and culture.

It must not have been easy for Nachshon to dive right into the water, but I see these students doing it every day.  They live and learn in secular environments, but work with their peers and school administrators to create environments that embrace religious diversity and encourage interfaith dialogue.  I am so fortunate to work with such passionate teens with great vision and Nachshon-acity!

Increasing Happiness

A blog post by Rachel Turniansky, Coordinator of Special Education Services and Principal of Gesher LaTorah.

With the Hebrew month of Adar approaching, we are told MiShenichnas Adar Marbim BeSimcha – when Adar comes in, joy is increased!  The joy of Adar stems mostly from the holiday of Purim, which falls in the month of Adar. We celebrate that the Jewish people were saved from Haman’s wicked plan to destroy us.

Deriving joy from daily life is something most parents are familiar with. Despite the many challenges that parents face, there’s an indescribable happiness that comes from our children. Raising a child is one of the most stressful, worrisome, and frustrating things you’ll do in your life, but it’s also one of the most rewarding, enjoyable and important things you’ll ever do.  Most parents prepare for parenting with a positive vision of the joys and pleasures they will experience as parents. Images of snuggling with your infant, laughing with your toddler, having fun with your preschooler and learning, exploring and growing through the years.

A concept parents are usually familiar with is nachat. It’s a word that’s difficult to translate, but on the surface it means joy. In Hebrew there are more than 10 different words for joy, but nachat is the kind of joy that comes from children. Usually it refers to the joy parents have in watching children not merely grow, but also grow into thriving people who contribute to family, community and society.

That feeling of nachat is no different for families with a child with special needs. Despite the many added challenges on family life, having a child with special needs can be a joyful experience.

According to a recent survey, 99 percent of parents who have kids with Down syndrome love their children. 97 percent of parents who have kids with Down syndrome are proud of their children. 79 percent of parents who have kids with Down syndrome say their outlook on life is more positive because of them. (Brian G. Skotko, Susan P. Levine, Richard Goldstein. "Having a son or daughter with Down syndrome: Perspectives from mothers and fathers." American Journal of Medical Genetics Part A. Volume 155, Issue 10, pages 2335–2347, October 2011)

As one of the survey participants said, when asked what advice they’d offer to a couple expecting a child with DS, “The joy their child will bring will be just like the joy that any child brings to a family.”

That’s not to say that life is nothing but rainbows and lollipops. Parents of children with special needs often have a very different experience than parents with typically developing children. Often there are a lot of priorities that come up in daily life, as well as long-term goals of these families that can eclipse the importance of happiness. Just covering the bases, like school, and day-to-day tasks can take enormous effort and end up being the main focus of everyday life. That feeling of happiness that every parent craves can often be an elusive element when challenges become overwhelming.

Making an effort to sprinkle as much happiness throughout our lives is an important one. The founding fathers of the United States thought happiness was so important that they even mentioned the concept of “certain unalienable rights…the pursuit of happiness” into the Constitution.

For times when nachat is hard to hold onto, here are some suggestions from Ellen Seidman, a mom to Max and blogger. Her tips are good ones for families with typically developing children, as well as those with special needs.

• Toss the child development books. Unsubscribe to any of the "This is what your baby/child is doing now!" online updates you registered for before you knew your child was going to have special needs. They will only make you compare your child's progress to what is typical, and that will only make you despair. Your child is on his own timeline, and nobody else's. Put that on a Post-it and hang it on your bathroom mirror.

• Look at what your child is doing today. Of course you want him to walk, talk, ride a bike, eat by himself, sing, and do any number of other things. But relishing and appreciating the stuff your child is able to do in the here and now will give you more confidence in his future. Contentment breeds hope; worry breeds more worry.

• If the worry is ever-present, if it makes you cry a lot and keeps you up at night, get help. Find a support group, or see a therapist. Carve out time for taking care of you, because you need to be happy and hopeful—and your child needs to feel that happiness and hope of yours.

• Rethink your idea of "accomplishment." It doesn't need to mean the ultimate goal you have for a child—say, walking. An accomplishment can be your child learning to grasp the handlebars of a walker. And taking a first step in that walker. And taking a step holding your hand. Each and every thing can be A Big Deal, if you make it one. Screech "Wheeeeeeee!" Email friends and family! Alert the press! Your hopes will be buoyed and you will not be sitting around thinking, "Why isn't he walking yet?" Because in your mind, your child is well on his way there.

• You know that old fable about the rabbit and the hare, and how the slow-and-steady hare won the race? Now forget that old fable. THERE IS NO RACE. See above, "Your child is on his own timeline."

• Surround your child with positive doctors and therapists. Regularly ask them to share the great stuff he is doing, ditto for his teachers. Keep a list handy for insta-inspiration.

• When you see friends, family and neighbors you haven't seen in a while, about the progress they see in your child; you'll hear about stuff you probably hadn't even noticed.

• The next time you are freaked that your child isn't progressing, go look at photos of him from a year or two ago, think back to what he was doing at the time, and consider how far he has come. Also: Call up your wisest, most reassuring friend and have lunch or dinner, ideally with wine involved.

• Enjoy your child. The more you do, the quicker the grief will pass—and the more your hopes will be buoyed. Find activities you both like (and remember, not every single thing has to be therapeutic). Take lots of photos. Be silly. Cuddle. Kiss. Try so hard to quit peering into the future, and look at the beautiful child in front of your eyes.

Waiting for Winter

A blog post by Ariela Lerman, Israel Education Coordinator

I miss winter.  I know that is has been a mild winter and most people in Baltimore are enjoying the weather, but I grew up in Minnesota.  I need snow in the winter and flurrying and melting on the ground does not constitute snow in my books.  Especially since this is my last winter in a colder climate I would really like a decent amount of snow.  I’m hoping that we will at least get enough snow in the next month or two to make it seem like winter, and if it’s cold outside there should really be snow.

Even though I have been in Baltimore for five years now I still find it fascinating that schools, organizations, and programs close for anything more than a few flurries.  It was really nice when I was teaching at congregational schools to receive the occasional day off, but it is still funny to me.  While growing up in Minnesota I only remember having two or three days off of school in my entire 12 years because of snow.  We had a Halloween blizzard in 1991 where the snow was above my head and school was cancelled for two days, and the governor of Minnesota was given a hard time for closing that second day.  We also got off of school one winter when the temperature was something around 40 below zero with a 45-50 below wind-chill and it was dangerous to go outside.  It might just be the Minnesotan in me, but this is a disappointing winter.

Wednesday was Tu B’Shevat.  The birthday for the trees.  One of the “new years” of Judaism.  Each year we teach about Tu B’Shevat and explain that in Israel the seasons are so different that it is time to plant trees there and we can’t do the same thing here because it is the middle of winter.  It is difficult to place a picture in a child’s mind about the celebration of a holiday in which trees are planted in Israel when there is snow on the ground.  However, this year it is not so hard to imagine planting trees on Tu B’Shevat.  When the weather is warm enough, and the ground still hasn’t frozen, we could take our students outside of the classroom and plant something instead of discussing it in the classroom.  So maybe it is a good thing that there isn’t any snow on the ground and it has been a mild winter.  Personally though, I’d like to see a little more snow before the winter is officially over.

Strictly for the birds...

A blog post by Larry Ziffer, Executive Vice President.

From time to time, this space is dedicated to sharing insights about relatively little-known Jewish customs. Much of Jewish life is governed by halacha, Jewish law, which is derived directly from the the Torah and indirectly from the rabbinic principles by which the Torah is interpreted. Minhagim/customs add an extra dimension to our lives. While not having the binding nature of halacha, they often point us toward special sensitivities that supplement the main body of Jewish practice.

In this week's parasha, Beshalach (this Shabbat is also known as Shabbat Shira because it contains the "Song of the Sea" that was sung after passing through the Reed Sea), we find the fascinating account of Mannah, the "food" from heaven that nurtured the Children of Israel throughout their forty years of wandering in the desert. Shortly after crossing through the Reed Sea on dry land and the miraculous destruction of the entire pursuing Egyptian army, the people complained to Moshe about a lack of food. Their supply of matzah had been depleted...

The entire community of the Children of Israel complained against Moshe and against Aharon in the desert. The Children of Israel said to them, "If only we had died by the hand of G-d in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots, when we ate bread to our fill! For you have brought us out into this desert, to starve the entire congregation to death!"

G-d said to Moshe, "Behold, I am going to rain down for you bread from heaven. The people will go out (every day) and gather what is needed for that day, so that I can test them (to see) whether or not they will follow My Torah. On Friday, they shall prepare that which they gather, and it shall be a double portion of what they gather daily.

Moshe and Aharon said to all of the Children of Israel, "In the evening, you will realize that it is G-d who brought you out of the land of Egypt. In the morning, you will see G-d's glory, in that He has heard your complaints against Him (about the lack of bread). (Shemot/Exodus 16:2-7)

In the morning, there was a layer of dew around the camp. The layer of dew evaporated and behold, on the surface of the desert, there was a fine substance as fine as frost, uncovered on the ground. When the Children of Israel saw it, they said to one another "Mahn-hoo" [What is it?] because they did not know what it was. (16:13-15) [Mahn is the Hebrew word we translate as mannah.]

(Moshe) said to them..."Tomorrow is a rest day, a holy Shabbat to G-d. Bake whatever you wish to bake (today) and cook whatever you wish to cook (today). Whatever is left over, put aside for storage until morning." They put it away until morning, as Moshe had commanded, and it did not become foul smelling or wormy. Moshe said, "Eat it today, for today is Shabbat to G-d. Today you will not find it in the field. Six days you will gather it, but on the seventh day, on Shabbat, there will not be any." On the seventh day, some of the people went out to gather mannah, but they did not find any. (16:23-27)

The rabbis ask an obvious question. After all of the miracles witnessed by the Children of Israel, the ten plagues in Egypt, the splitting of the Reed Sea, the destruction of the Egyptian army, the miraculous provision of sweet water, quail meat and now this wondrous "bread from heaven," how could "some of the people" have gone out to gather mannah on Shabbat, specifically in contradiction to what Moshe had commanded?

The Midrash offers an intriguing explanation. From the time Moshe appeared on the scene in Egypt as G-d's representative to bring about the exodus, he had two key nemeses: Datan and Aviram. (You may remember Edward G. Robinson as "Dathan" from the famous Cecile B. DeMille movie, The Ten Commandments.) These two were constantly in the background, challenging Moshe's authority and attempting to discredit him, until their death in the rebellion led by Korach (Bemidbar/Numbers 16:31).

The Midrash tells us that in the last verse quoted above (On the seventh day some of the people went out to gather mannah...), the reference is to one of these rebellious acts. Hoping to discredit Moshe as leader, Datan and Aviram went out late Friday night and spread some of their left over mannah around the camp. On Shabbat morning, they went throughout the camp and told the people to go out and discover that Moshe was wrong, that there was, indeed, mannah available to gather on Shabbat. However, they were foiled in this plot by birds which flew over the camp early in the morning and ate all of the mannah that had been left around it. When the people went looking for the mannah, it was Datan and Aviram who were discredited! This puts the verse into a new context: "Some of the people went out to gather mannah,"at the suggestion of Datan and Aviram, "but they did not find any."

A custom developed for Jews to put out bird seed or bread crumbs on Erev Shabbat Beshalach in order to express appreciation to the birds that acted in order to preserve the honor and respect of Moshe as leader. Now the birds that we see today are certainly not the birds that ate the mannah to preserve the honor of Moshe and the honor of Shabbat! Nevertheless, we pay tribute to "all birds" by commemorating the occasion and "rewarding" them for their good deed. This takes the concept of "hakarat ha-tov," expressing gratitude for goodness, to a very high level. It is a beautiful custom, often observed with children and grandchildren along with the recitation of the parasha story and presentation of this lesson.

But, as always, there is more to the story than just the story! If the lesson of hakarat ha-tov pertains to the descendants of wild birds 3,300 years later all over the world, how much more should we focus our efforts to fulfill the mitzvah of hakarat ha-tov concerning people who do favors and other good things for us? In this increasingly technological, mechanistic, fast-paced world of ours, it is all-too-easy to forget or take for granted the things people do for us. The Torah and our tradition teach us that this cannot be. We must be aware that there are others around us and that we live in a society. We are not "entitled" to favors from others without due appreciation and recognition for the benefits we so willingly accept.

This Shabbat, think of the birds! Think of this wonderful custom (and consider putting out seeds or breadcrumbs with your children or grandchildren before Shabbat). Then think of the people who have done favors for you recently. Maybe even call someone and say thanks. Truth be told, it's not strictly for the birds!

Source:  Ta'amei HaMinhagim u"Mekorei HaDinim 

      Shabbat Shalom to all!

  !שבת שלום לכולם

It's a World of Laughter

A blog post by Rebecca Levitan, Librarian and Social Media Coordinator.

There is a ubiquitous song in our consciousness that reminds us just how big this world is. I am often reminded of this song when playing "Jewish Geography" with new people (oh, you're from X-place? Do you know person Y and Z?). What really amazes me now, is that with all the technology and social networking that is available to us, the world has gotten even smaller.

Abby, another friend from seminary, and I. July 2008

Here, for your entertainment and information is a story illustrating my point. I went to seminary in Israel for a year after high school ('04-'05). There I became friends with a very nice girl named Abby. Following seminary, Abby and I kept in touch, mostly on Facebook but then subsequently on Twitter.

Tova and Daniel

Abby had gone to high school with a guy named Daniel. He saw Abby and I communicating on Twitter, and so he began communicating with me*. Then, Daniel got married and his wife Tova and I began communicating on Twitter. Then Tova and Daniel made Aliyah. Just about the same time they made Aliyah, my youngest sister went to Israel for her year of seminary.

My sister in Israel.

For those of you who don't know, as a student in seminary in Israel, it is quite common that you have to invite yourself to different places for Shabbat. This isn't always the easiest task, to call someone you hardly know, or don't know at all, and ask them if you can stay for Shabbat, or at least come over for one of the meals. Knowing that this is sometimes hard, I decided to help my sister out by trying to find a place for her to go for Shabbat. So I sent a message to Daniel and Tova, explaining to them that my sister was in Israel, and would they be willing to have her as a guest for Shabbat? Being the wonderfully sweet people they are, they of course said yes, and a few weeks later, my sister spent Shabbat with them.

If you noticed, I never mentioned that I had met Daniel and Tova. I haven't. And this is what amazes me about the Jewish people and social networking. That our wonderfully small world, is just a teeny bit smaller. It amazes me what you can learn just by being connected.

So, I implore you reader, get connected with us! We're on Facebook and Twitter. We'd love to hear from you and love for you to see what we're doing!


What are your "small world" stories? Comment below, we'd love to hear them!

*Note: This is only an option on Twitter. It is possible to make your person-to-person conversations more private.

What's in a Glass?

A blog post by Ruthy Wolman, Day School Liaison.

What's in a glass? Half empty or half full, it's still just a glass.
While fascinating in origin and construction (sand, torched and blown), what's there to contemplate about glass?! So I thought-- until I started craving my mother's flaky dough apple turnovers.

Tucked away safely in the back of my baking cabinet is my mother's old recipe notebook.  I have as of yet to meet one who can match my mother's cooking and baking talents. And, try as I may, I too have not come close to mastering her recipes. Nevertheless, I still take great comfort in just reading through her recipes and in the wonderful memories they evoke from my senses.

So what do these memories or apple turnovers have to do with the aforementioned glass?   I'll tell you.

Perhaps the most outstanding feature of a recipe written by mothers such as mine, who came to America leaving their European homes over half a century ago, is that they never measured anything with a “glass.”  What they used as their measuring device was a glass. Not just any glass, it was a very unique glass. It was a recycled "yahrzeit" glass. Yes, a glass filled half-way with a candle and a wick that burned 24 hours commemorating the anniversary date of the death of a family member.  And how do I know about this “cup” replacement?

Because that's what the recipe called for.  For the perfect apple turnover, one was instructed to use “four yahrzeit glasses of flour.”  A glass which, when finished with its intended purpose, was washed, and used over and over again. I remember them clearly, with their exterior scalloped bumps, standing side by side on a paper lined shelf.

Of course what fascinates me is that I and my contemporaries from similar backgrounds grew up and perceived this as perfectly normal.  Didn’t everybody have   multiple yahrzeit candles burning   throughout the year?  Never did it occur to me to feel “so embarrassed” or even “creepy” about the recycling of these glasses.
True, if everyone does it then it would feel more natural.  But why was it okay then, when we know that today it would never fly?

Yes," necessity is the mother of invention” and the hardships of the times did necessitate invention.  But could it be more?

Was this a result of poverty, practicality at its fullest?  Was it just another survival technique, a stroke of brilliant creativity?   Or could a simple yahrzeit glass teach us the victory of the human spirit? Was this not another example of the strength of that generation, picking themselves up, brushing off the dust and starting all over again? From the ashes, they survived. They did not choose to forget-- that yahrzeit glass was there to remind them.  Yet they did not linger in the ashes.  They moved on, and they took that yahrzeit glass with them, not as a constant reminder of what they lost, but as a testament that they will go on.

 Maybe deep down , though I was too young to understand then,  this thought  is why the  re-constituted  yahrzeit glass leaves me not only  with a sense of nostalgia, but  with one of  humility  for a strength far greater than I could every aspire to gain.

And the humble glass continues to present itself in other aspects of our Jewish life. Kristallnacht, the shattering of glass, marking one of the darkest times in the history of the Jews; the shattering of the glass at weddings, reminding us of the destruction of the holy temple and our longing for its reconstruction.

 This custom, the shattering of the glass, reminds me of my friend Sara. Twenty five years ago, Sara gave birth to her first child, a son. At her sons bris Sara brought a glass. While traditionally the mohel drinks from a silver goblet, Sara requested that he drink from this simple glass.

After the ceremony, Sara took that glass and put it away.  On the day of her son's bar mitzvah, at the Shabbat meal, she took out that glass, and both her husband and son made Kiddush with that glass.  After the Bar mitzvah, Sara once again put away this glass. Last August, standing under the chuppa with her husband, her future daughter in law and her first born son, Sara held that glass. That was the glass that her son shattered under the chuppa. Mazel Tov!

 Once again glass played a part in life's rite of passage.  Shattered glass, ­ while a nation that so often felt as broken and unrepairable as shattered glass ­we continue to   piece ourselves together.

Yet,  perhaps the magic to that survival, that tenacity, is that, although we march on with conviction, we never forgot and we never let ourselves forget .Our history is replete with  splendor and tragedy, glory and defeat .  Our calendar marks those days, and we celebrate and mourn them both. “Lest we forget” is our mantra.   With that mantra, we believe that, as we continue to make history, we will strive to regain that eternal splendor by imparting to our children what our mothers taught us- and that is -to always live our lives with   ­ “a touch of glass”.

And the Oscar Goes To.......

A blog post by Martha Goodman, Coordinator of MD SNAP.

This week the Academy Award nominations were announced.  One of this year’s nominees for Best Film is Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, which is set two years after 9/11 and is narrated by Oscar (a hopeful foreshadowing perhaps?), a sensitive boy who lost his father in the tragedy, and also happens to have a form of autism.  I’d like to take this opportunity to nominate these fascinating flicks:

First, I recommend Google's driverless car, which has driven close to 200,000 uneventful miles. When my daughter Meira was born eight years ago, and was diagnosed with Down Syndrome, one of my concerns was whether she would ever drive a car. I told myself I had twenty years to worry about it.  Now, I find the folks at Google were worrying about it for me!

Another incredible story of technology and people with special needs features Carly Fleischmann, a young woman with autism.  This clip captures her early work at communicating with a computer, and more recent shots of her using an augmentative communication device, and finally writing her own blog which she uses to connect with the world and allow her self-described inner voice to educate others about autism. Listen to Carly's Voice

My next pick is probably my favorite TED video ever. featuring Scottish percussionist Dame Evelyn Glennie talking about learning to listen with your whole body and mind.  When she attended the Royal Academy of Music, she taught them more about listening and inclusion than one could have imagined.  Did I forget to say that she is deaf?

On a much nerdier note, I have to point to the data intense TED video by Deb Roy on language development.  Researcher Roy installed cameras throughout his home and recorded every waking moment of his newborn son’s life for three years.  While few may be persistent enough to watch the entire 20 minute video, nearly everyone has the minute and a half attention span required to watch from minute 4:20 to 5:45 to witness the Birth of a Word. 

He mentions time lapse photography of a flower blooming.  I remember watching such a video, which showed the flower’s two step forward, one step back approach to blossoming.  I wanted to find that video, to show the parallel to this development of the boy’s utterance of “water”, to highlight that progress is not always linear and upward. I found many gorgeous videos, especially those by Neil Bromhall, but this one by Wildwatertv is right on point, and right on time for this time of year: Snowdrops. 

For flowers and children preparing to bloom, persistence and patience are everything, as Rachel Coleman sings, “Lucy will do what Lucy will do when Lucy is ready to do it.” Listen to Signing Time's Shine - Selected Songs for Grown Ups to hear these lyrics.

Far less beautiful, but so bitterly funny that it makes me laugh until I sometimes cry,  A Mom Talks with the Director of Special Education, an ad for an special education legal firm, highlights the importance of families having an advocate with them when they go to IEP meetings. 

And the winner is….