ahausman

I hope this finds you all well.

There’s a Facebook meme that I have often seen posted this time of year. It goes something like this:

“If you eat today, thank a farmer.

 If it’s on your table, thank a trucker.

 If you eat in peace, thank a veteran.”

For Americans, there is a lot to celebrate and to be grateful for in the month of November. In it we hold elections, honor our veterans, and celebrate the fall harvest and beginning of the holiday season. But behind each of these blessings and gifts is someone who sacrificed enormously to make them possible for the rest of us.

In this week’s parsha of Vayeira (Genesis 18:1-22:24), we read of God commanding Abraham to offer up his son Isaac as a burnt offering.

The text makes it seem that Isaac is oblivious to the fact that he is to be the sacrifice.

We read the following: “….And he [Isaac] said, ‘…but where is the sheep for the offering?’ And Abraham said, ‘It is God who will see to the sheep for this burnt offering, my son.’ And the two of them walked on together.” (*Genesis 22:8)

The great Rabbi of the 12th and 13th centuries, David Kimhi (aka the RaDaK) comments on these lines: “Yitzchok understood from this that he had been chosen to be the offering. This is why the Torah continues, significantly: ‘they continued walking together,’ i.e. of one mind and of one spirit.” [*1]

In other words, Isaac knew he was to be sacrificed, but yet he still selflessly followed his father to what he knew would most certainly be his death.

When the moment comes and Abraham is about to put his beloved child to the knife, a messenger of God stays our patriarch’s hand and gives him these holy words:

“Because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your favored one, I will bestow My blessing upon you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore; and your descendants shall seize the gates of their foes. All the nations of the earth shall bless themselves by your descendants, because you have obeyed My command.” (*Genesis 22:16-18)

There is a clear message from this: if Abraham had not been willing to sacrifice Isaac and if Isaac had not been willing to be sacrificed, our story, our Jewish story – all that we have and all that we are – would have ended on the slopes of Mount Moriah right then and there. Abraham and Isaac were willing to sacrifice everything so that we can be here today, right now.

This brings us back to our day in the here and now in the midst of our contemporary lives. In this sacred secular month of thanksgiving, let us be mindful and thankful to those, who day-in and day-out, make sacrifices on our behalf and our account so that we can enjoy the lives that we do. From the farmers who break their backs and blister their hands in the sweltering fields to the long-haul truckers who travel far from home, to the veterans who gave up their youth, bodies, safety, and comfort to defend the country, to the teachers who spend extra hours off-the-clock tutoring struggling pupils and use their own paychecks to get supplies for their students, to our first responders who put their lives on the line every single day to keep the rest of us safe, to the ER nurses and doctors who take care of critically injured accident victims at 3:00 in the morning, all of us have a solemn duty to be grateful for the sacrifices that they make for us.

So as we cast our ballot, attend the local Veterans Day parade, partake in a festive meal with our closest friends and family in the warmth, safety, and security of our hearths and homes, and enjoy all the other blessings that this month has to offer, let us give thanks to those who have sacrificed and continue to make sacrifices on our behalf.

Perhaps that is the greatest lesson of Vayeira and Thanksgiving.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Shabbat Shalom!

I hope this finds you well.

Two American heroes who have very much informed and inspired my rabbinate, my military career, and indeed my life are Congressional Medal of Honor recipients US Navy Lieutenant Michael P. Murphy (z”l) and US Army Master Sergeant Joshua Wheeler (z”l). Murphy, a Navy SEAL, selflessly sacrificed his life in 2005 by exposing himself to overwhelming enemy fire in order to call in a rescue force after his reconnaissance team was discovered in the mountains of Afghanistan. Wheeler, an elite Delta Force operator, likewise made the ultimate sacrifice in 2015 while rescuing Iraqi hostages who were about to be executed by ISIS.

For Murphy and Wheeler, their courageous feats that earned them both America’s highest medal for battlefield heroism, these were not stand alone events; rather they were indicative and reflective of noble lives spent in the service of others.

Friends and family recounted that in eighth grade Murphy fought off a group of bullies who were trying to push a special needs student into a locker. The next year, Murphy protected a homeless man who was being accosted by a local group of youths. Later on, he became a lifeguard in his Long Island community. Those who knew and loved him called him “the Protector”, a sobriquet he earned many times over.[1]

Josh Wheeler, a proud member of the Cherokee nation, sadly grew up with an enormous amount of poverty and instability in life. His mother was married to two abusive husbands and the family often had trouble making ends meet. He always helped get his siblings ready for school, changed soiled diapers, and worked various jobs to bring in more income for the family. His sister recalled that on one occasion, while Josh was home on leave from the Army, he saw that there was no food in the house. He immediately grabbed a rifle, went out, shot a deer, harvested its meat, and put food on the table for her and the other members of the family.[2]

In essence, Murphy’s heroism in the mountains of Afghanistan in 2005, and Wheeler’s valor in Iraq in 2015, were the culmination and capstone of lives devoted in the service of others.

This brings us to this week’s parsha of Lekh Lekha (Genesis 12:1-17:27). In it, we read that the four kings abduct Abram’s nephew, Lot (14:12). The moment Abram (soon to be Abraham) is told of Lot’s kidnapping, he jumps into action, organizes an army of 318 men, and leads a successful rescue mission freeing his nephew (14:14-16).

But why is this short episode so significant?

Because Abram/Abraham is the first of our people, the first Jew. He set the foundation, framework, and tone for what it means to be Jewish and how to act Jewishly. His rescue of Lot demonstrates that as Jews we are meant to run towards the sound of the guns, the roar of the hurricane gale, and into the fire, not away from them. That is the Jewish standard.

That being said, you can’t expect someone to be heroic, selfless, and altruistic on the level of Abram’s rescue of Lot from the get-go. Rather, such a mindset, moral outlook, and ethical outlook has to be encouraged, taught, scaffolded, and built upon from an early age as it was with Murphy and Wheeler.

Fair enough. What then are these golden opportunities? Thankfully, there are many. When we have our children assist us in preparing meals for the homeless, and then have our son or daughter physically hand said bagged lunch to that destitute person living on the streets – that’s an invaluable experience! When we take our nephew or niece with us to the nursing home and have them read to an elderly person whose family doesn’t visit them – that’s a potentially life-changing experience! And when we encourage our grandchild to walk with us at Relay for Life instead of watching cartoons, that is a golden opportunity!

In the Book of Proverbs we are taught, “Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it,” The great rabbi Rashi penned, “Who rears his son to be righteous is like an immortal,” and in Exodus Rabbah it is written, “Mothers should introduce their children to Torah.”[3]

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we as moms and dads, aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas, and elders of our communities, not only teach, but indeed provide ample opportunities for our youth to cultivate the same caliber of selflessness, valor, care and concern, and bravery as Michael Murphy, Joshua Wheeler, and Avraham Aveinu.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Shabbat Shalom!

I hope this finds you all well.

Noah and the Ark – it’s objectively one of the most well-known stories of the Bible and the centerpiece of this week’s parsha (Genesis 6:9-11:32). As a refresher, humanity had become so evil and corrupted that God decided to flood the earth and destroy all life on it. The only exception was Noah and his family.

God instructed Noah to build an Ark and to place on it not only him and his family, but also a male and female of every species, as well as sustenance for all of them. To fulfill this undertaking, the dimensions of the ark were understandably massive: 300 cubits long,

50 cubits wide, and 30 cubits high.[1]  According to the famous 12th century rabbi, the Rashbam, a cubit measures 22.68 inches.[2]  Therefore, with this determination in hand, the ark was a monumental 567 feet long, 94.5 feet wide, and 56.7 feet high! Constructing this behemoth was certainly a Herculean task for Noah and his family.

In 2016, a Christian group, Answers in Genesis, built a replica of the ark measuring 510’x85’x51’ in Williamstown, Kentucky.[3] It has become a very popular attraction, voted first in the best religious museum category in the annual USA Today/10Best.com Readers Choice Awards for both 2020 and 2023.[4]

But here’s the thing: you don’t have to make a road trip to Kentucky if you want to see a replica of the ark, nor trek to Mount Ararat in Turkey where many believe the ark came to rest when the waters of the great flood subsided[5] in order to gain a full appreciation, or stand in wonder of Noah’s handiwork. In fact, if you walk through your neighborhood or drive through your town, you will encounter many arks.

“How can this be?” you might ask. It’s actually rather simple. What was the ark? Put bluntly, it was a vessel of safe haven and place of refuge meant to carry those aboard it safely through a time of storm and uncertainty. The arks in our communities are thankfully plentiful. A women’s shelter is an institution that can provide protection to a battered and abused wife and help her move on to a new chapter in her life; a food pantry provides essential nourishment to a family having trouble making ends meet; and a youth group delivers mentorship and safety where young men and women can develop into people of character without the undo and harmful influence of violent gangs.

Whereas Noah’s ark was built with gopher wood and pitch (Genesis 6:14), the arks of our day and in our communities depend on monetary donations, blood, canned food, clothing, backpack, and toiletry drives, job skills training, resume writing classes, SAT tutoring, and after-school mentoring to thrive. Just as Noah built the ark and was righteous in his generation (Genesis 6:9), so too do each of us have the opportunity to build arks in our community and be righteous in our generation.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we all build arks on righteousness.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

I hope this finds you all well.

Growing up, I was always taught that Yamim Noraim – the Days of Awe consisted of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Then I was taught that it actually extended through Sukkot, Shemini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah. Then a few years later I was introduced to the month of Elul and its focus on mechina – spiritual preparation for the High Holy Days, so sure, it got tacked on, too.

In Rabbi Alan Lew’s (z”l) famous masterpiece This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared, Rabbi Lew writes that the Days of Awe actually begins on Tisha B’Av- the saddest day of the Jewish calendar in which we mournfully recall the Destruction of the two Temples in Jerusalem, the lack of faith displayed by the twelve scouts in the Book of Deuteronomy, the Rhineland massacres, the expulsion of Jews from England, France, and Spain, the beginning of World War I, the approval of the Final Solution by the Nazi party, and the AMIA bombing in Argentina.[1]

In explaining his position, Lew writes: “The time between Tisha B’Av and Yom Kippur, the great seven-week time of turning, is the time between the destruction of Jerusalem- the crumbling of the walls of the Great Temple- and our moral and spiritual reconstruction.”[2]

I was blown away by the imagery of this premise. Think about it: our days of awe, according to him, begin with Har HaBayit – the Temple in Jerusalem, the center of the Jewish world, God’s dwelling place on Earth, a place of massive, heavy stone – engulfed in flame, torn down, and turned to ash, and ends with us dwelling in a sukkah – a structure of community, harvest, meals, friendship, and family. Though fragile, the sukkah more than makes up for its delicate and flimsy structure by filling it with the people that matter the most to us.

In life, we are going to experience failure, tragedy, frustration, and setback, be it the loss of a priceless family heirloom, not getting into the college or job we wanted since we learned how to to read and write, or the sudden, unexpected, and tragic death of a loved one. But that doesn’t mean our story ends there. We can acquire other objects, we can receive a fantastic education at another university or find incredible fulfillment at another job, and we will always have the lessons and cherished memories of those friends and family members who have died.

The connection between the destruction of the temple leading to the building of the sukkah seems to evoke the psychological concept of post-traumatic growth.

According to The Journal of Clinical Neuropsychiatry, post traumatic growth “may feature positive changes in self-perception, interpersonal relationships and philosophy of life, leading to increased self-awareness and self-confidence, a more open attitude towards others, a greater appreciation of life and the discovering of new possibilities.” [3]

In truth, we can’t make things exactly the way that they were before we experienced loss; but we have the ability to build something new, something different, and perhaps something better.

For the sadness of the temples that are destroyed in our lives, there is the opportunity for building a sukkah – one that is full of renewal, fond memories, happiness, hope, and peace — something bright and new in its stead.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we all build a sukkah of comfort, happiness, and peace in our lives in this year of 5786.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Stop and Smell the Roses

Shabbat Shalom!

I pray this finds you all well.

The other day, my wife and I reflected on how quickly our 5+ years of marriage has flashed before our eyes. We’ve been through so much and accomplished so much together, but yet it feels like only yesterday that we stood under that beautiful chuppah, wrapped in a tallit, exchanging our sacred marital vows. Much to her chagrin (she’s the literal opposite of a country music fan) and my laughter (country superfan over here), our reflection reminded me of Kenny Chesney’s hit song Don’t Blink:

I turned on the evening news

Saw an old man being interviewed

Turning a hundred and two today

Asked him what’s the secret to life?

He looked up from his old pipe

Laughed and said, “All I can say is

Don’t blink, just like that you’re six years old

And you take a nap

And you wake up and you’re twenty-five

And your high school sweetheart becomes your wife

Don’t blink, you just might miss

Your babies growing like mine did

Turning into moms and dads

Next thing you know your better half

Of fifty years is there in bed

And you’re praying God takes you instead

Trust me friend a hundred years goes faster than you think,

So don’t blink…”  [1]

In this week’s parsha of Beresheit (Genesis 1:1- 6:8) we read of God’s creation of the world; then followed by Adam, Eve, the tree of knowledge, the serpent, and the expulsion from the Garden of Eden. But the question is: how long did Adam and Eve actually dwell in the paradise and bliss that was Eden?

Rabbi Yohanan bar Hanina of the Talmud tell us the following:

“Daytime is twelve hours long, and the day Adam the first man was created was divided as follows: In the first hour of the day, his dust was gathered. In the second, an undefined figure was fashioned. In the third, his limbs were extended. In the fourth, a soul was cast into him. In the fifth, he stood on his legs. In the sixth, he called the creatures by the names he gave them. In the seventh, Eve was paired with him. In the eighth, they arose to the bed two, and descended four, i.e., Cain and Abel were immediately born. In the ninth, he was commanded not to eat of the Tree of Knowledge. In the tenth, he sinned. In the eleventh, he was judged. In the twelfth, he was expelled and left the Garden of Eden, as it is stated: ‘But man abides not in honor; he is like the beasts that perish’ (Psalms 49:13). Adam did not abide, i.e., sleep, in a place of honor for even one night.” [2]  [*Sanhedrin38b.2]

Twelve hours! Just twelve hours in paradise, followed by a lifetime of labor, toil, and mortality!

But perhaps there’s an invaluable lesson in this: enjoy and take full advantage of the moments that we have! Too often people see a job as a stepping stone on their resume rather than as a place where they can learn important lessons and make great friendships; too often people see a first house as a means of establishing credit rather than as a place and time of their lives where they create fond memories; and too often people see education as nothing more than an illustrious diploma on the wall that opens doors rather than as a golden opportunity to receive education and expand their minds. Too often people forget to live in the moment because they are consumed with planning the next goal, the next check mark, and the next rung on the ladder that is their life plan. If we live by this way of thinking, we will never be happy nor satisfied; and, if and when we reach old age, we will have sped right past what are meant to be some of life’s most joyful chapters and fulfilling occasions. As the old saying goes, “stop and smell the roses.”

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we all stop and enjoy the moments that we have and are blessed with.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Shabbat Shalom.

I pray this finds you all well.

When there’s a major, pivotal moment in our lives, what do we (and others) tend to do? We pray! We call out to God!

“God, please land this job for me!”

“God, if you get me out of this, I’ll devote the rest of my days to you.”

“God, if you let me survive this, I promise I’ll never do anything bad again.”

In the Haftarah (II Samuel 22:1-51) that accompanies this week’s parsha of Ha’azinu (Deuteronomy 32:1-52), an elderly King David pens a tribute to God:

“David addressed the words of this song to God, after God had saved him from the hands of all his enemies and from the hands of Saul. He said:

‘O ETERNAL One, my crag, my fortress, my deliverer!

O God, the rock in which I take shelter:

My shield, my mighty champion, my haven and refuge!

My savior, You who rescue me from violence!

All praise! I called on GOD

And was delivered from my enemies.

For the breakers of Death encompassed me,

The torrents of Belial terrified me;

The ropes of Sheol encircled me,

The snares of Death engulfed me.

In my anguish I called on the ETERNAL,

Cried out to my God,

Who from a heavenly abode heard my voice,

Whose ears received my cry…

Rescuing me from my fierce enemy,

From foes too strong for me.

They attacked me on my day of calamity,

But GOD was my support.

Bringing me out to freedom,

Pleased with me enough to rescue me…

Rescuing me from my fierce enemy,

From foes too strong for me.

They attacked me on my day of calamity,

But GOD was my support.

Bringing me out to freedom,

Pleased with me enough to rescue me.’”

(*II Samuel 22: 2-7, 18-20, 47-50)

These are beautiful and  powerful words, and it is beyond reassuring to know that God was there for one of His servants when he called out to Him, and thus comforting to know that God is able to be there for us when we too call out to Him.

Unfortunately, there are many folks who only call out to God in the most extreme of circumstances. This is a one-sided relationship that is tragically both shallow and superficial. Do we think that God is like the Ghostbusters and just waiting by the phone to jump into action when He’s called upon?

So what is our relationship with the Divine supposed to look like? If we do a deep dive of our prayers and texts, we are able to grasp the true depth of our relationship with God. Asher Yatzar gives thanks for our physical health, Nisim B’Chol Yom gives thanks for things such as our eyesight, strength and freedom, the Birkat HaMazon gives thanks for the food in front of us, and Elohai N’Shama gives thanks for our very souls. Each of these tributes recognize constant, daily gifts from God that all too often we overlook, take for granted, or forget to acknowledge God’s active participation in.

Is God a rescuer and savior? Yes, 100%. But there is so much more to who God is and what God does for us day-in and day-out. On Yom Kippur, we read and chant the piyut (poem) Ki Anu Amecha (“We are your people”). In it we declare:

“We are your children and you are our father.

 We are your flock and you are our shepherd.

 We are your vineyard and your caregiver.”

A parent, a shepherd, and a caregiver. All three roles do have a rescuer function in them, but they are recognized chiefly for always being there, being a constant presence – through the boring and the active, the kinetic and the mundane, the blissful and the stressful alike.

If we only view God as some sort of rescuer or caped crusader who swoops in during times of trouble, we’ve missed a huge part of the relationship that we have with Him.  If we treat God like some sort of bat signal, easy button from Staples, or genie in a lamp that we call out to only in times of trouble, distress, or danger…well…shame on us. God is with us all in every moment (good, bad, exciting, boring, etc.), in every season, in every clime and place, and in all the days of our lives; and we are supposed to give thanks and gratefully acknowledge that.

In this new year of 5786, may we all recognize that God is eternally with us, and may we be forever thankful for all that He does for us in every moment of our lives.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and restful weekend.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

I hope this finds you all well.

It’s always sad, nay, heartbreaking when talking to someone who can’t seem to straighten out their life and keeps making the same bad decisions and pattern of harmful choices, spiraling ever downward. When asked why they can’t get their act together, they often say things like “I’m too old to learn new tricks,” “I’m too far gone to change my ways,” and perhaps the most tragic of them all – “I’m just a lost cause.”

As I’ve often said, Hebrew is a very intentional and blunt language. It says what it means and means what it says. For example, potato is patuakh adamah or “ground apple”; a religious holiday is often called a yom tov or “good day;” and a hospital is called beit cholim or “house of the sick.”

We currently find ourselves in Aseret Yamei Teshuva – the days of repentance, that mark the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In this unique time we are obligated and encouraged to seek forgiveness from those whom we have harmed, amend our ways, and promise to live better, more sacred lives in the new year.

This is the interesting part: teshuvah is commonly called repentance but its most accurate translation is actually “return.”

This brings us back to those who believe themselves to be too far gone or a lost cause and therefore can’t be redeemed.

At the end of every Torah service, when we place the Torah back in the ark, we chant the following line from the Eicha, the Book of Lamentations:

“Hashiveniu Adonai, Eylecha v’Nashuvah, Chadesh yamaneinu k’kedem – Take us back, O LORD, to Yourself, And let us come back; Renew our days as of old!” (Lamentations 5:21)

Perhaps the point of teshuvah is no matter how far we’ve fallen, no matter how much we’ve stumbled, and no matter how much we’ve failed our friends and families, God, and ourselves, repentance, renewal, and return to the good times and great days of our lives are always possible.

Teshuvah is teshuvah…in other words, the return to the good is possible through the hard work and service of the heart that is repentance.

In this holy and sacred season, may we all engage in the blessed labor that is teshuvah.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend, and G’mar Chatimah Tovah – may you all be inscribed for good in the Book of Life.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Shabbat Shalom.

I pray this finds you all well.

There once was a man who wanted, as they say, “to save the world.” But yet, he never actually did anything or took any measures to save the world. When asked why he was all talk and no action he replied, “The problems are simply too immense and I’m only one person. Nothing I do will make THE big difference.” And so he continued to do nothing…except for lots of kvetching (complaining).

A senior non-commissioned officer (NCO) I once worked with said, “It’s always important to think in terms of ‘THE’, ‘my’, ‘your’, and ‘a’.”

I thought about what he said as I pondered the Jewish value of “Tikkun Olam.” People often translate Tikkun Olam as “repairing the world”, however, that’s grammatically incorrect. If it were repairing the world it would be “Tikkun Ha’Olam”. “Tikkun Olam” better translates as “repairing a world.” Grammar nerds might love this, but most folks will probably say, “What’s the difference? What’s the big deal?” I contend that it’s actually pretty huge.

Most of us will never invent, discover, or accomplish things on the scale of Thomas Edison, Marie Curie, Charles Richard Drew, the Wright Brothers, George Washington Carver, Albert Einstein, or Richard Salk; however, that doesn’t mean that the positive impact we can have isn’t sacred, important, meaningful, or holy.

Take for example the following:

Donating one unit of blood takes less than 30 minutes start-to-finish; however, that one unit of blood can up save three people’s lives.

A can of vegetables costs a couple bucks at most, but for someone who has nothing at all to their name and is living destitute on the streets, that’s lunch, that’s dinner…that’s vital nourishment.

It doesn’t take a ton of skill or resources to knit a pair of socks, mittens, or cap, but for a homeless person shivering on a cold winter night, these items mean, well…the world to them.

Finally, going out, hunting a deer, processing its meat, and donating it to those who have to decide between paying that month’s rent or utility bills might not solve all the world’s problems, but it sure as heck solves theirs in that moment.

These charitable donations (tzedakah), good works (ma’asim tovim), and acts of kindness (gimilut chasadim) might not change THE world, but it definitely helps out someone’s world for the better.

This all goes back to the difference between “a” and “the”. In the Talmud we’re taught the following, “anyone who saves a life is considered by Scripture to have saved an entire world.” (Sanhedrin 4:5)

In this week’s parsha of Nitzavim (Deuteronomy 29:9-30:20), we read the following: “For this commandment which I command you this day, it is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. It is not heaven…neither is it beyond the sea…But the word is very near to you, in your mouth, and in your heart, that you may do it.” (Deuteronomy 30:11-14).

In other words, it is possible to do good and meaningful acts every day of our lives.

Bizrat HaShem, as we approach this new year of 5786, let us not strive to change THE world, but let us try to change the worlds of our families, friends, neighbors, and those around us through acts of love, charity, compassion, and kindness.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos, a great weekend, and Shanah Tovah u’Metukah- a happy and sweet new year.Shabbat Shalom.

Bivrakha,

Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

Beth El Congregation | 520 Fairmont Ave, Winchester, VA 22601

(540) 667-1889 (office)