bethelco

I hope this finds you all well.

It’s a brutally hot day on a crowded, busy city street. On the sidewalk tucked up against a building is an elderly, sun-burnt, emaciated homeless man. His shirt and pants are torn, his shoes are shredded, his body odor is pungent and overwhelming, and he hangs his head low, resting it on his hands and knees. He’s thirsty, tired, and so broken both in body and spirit that he doesn’t even bother holding up his coin tin or cardboard sign saying asking for money.

Most people look the other way and go out of their path to ignore him, some scoff, and even a couple hiss, “Get a job.”

But one man, one caring man, goes into a store and buys a large brimmed hat, a pair of sunglasses, a couple of t-shirts, a few bottles of cold water, a sandwich, and a large bag of ice. This caring individual gives the homeless man these items and then heads on his way.

It’s easy, frighteningly easy in fact, to ignore, take advantage of, and even harm others when they’re at their weakest and most vulnerable. On the other hand, it shows true strength of character to go to the aid and defense of someone who is incapacitated and incapable of helping themselves.

In this week’s parsha of Noach*, we see such an example. After leaving the Ark, Noah plants a vineyard and gets drunk.[1] In his intoxicated state he takes off all his clothes and passes out.[2]  Noah’s son Ham sees his father and tells his brothers Japheth and Shem what he has witnessed.[3]  Japheth and Shem grab a blanket and cover their father, thereby giving him some dignity in this sad and embarrassing moment.[4]  After waking up, Noah blesses Japheth and Shem for their act of kindness.[5] It is a simple but yet incredibly powerful and noble deed what these sons do for their father.

Our sages and sacred texts have echoed such sentiments. Rabbi Simeon the Righteous taught: “the world stands on three things: Torah, service, and acts of loving-kindness”; Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote, “Acts of kindness never die. They linger in the memory, giving life to other acts in return;” and God tells Moses in the Book of Leviticus, “You will not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling block in front of the blind…you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

Bizrat HaShem, may we all walk in the ways of Japheth and Shem, turning towards the helpless with a kind and compassionate hand.

Wishing you all a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha

From the desk of: 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.

Passion, it is said, can be a good thing- it is a source and well-spring of creativity and a driver of innovation. On the other hand, passion can exacerbate our worst inclinations and emotions, from jealousy and anger to lust and greed.

In this week’s parsha of Beresheit, we see the harmful, negative side of passion on full display, from Adam and Eve’s eating of the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden to Cain’s murder of Abel.

We know many of the cast of characters in this week’s portion- Adam, Eve, the serpent, Cain, Abel, and Noah.

But there is someone who gets very little attention- the Cherubim who God stations at the eastern entrance at the Garden of Eden to protect the Tree of Life after He expels Adam and Eve.[1]

It is said that the Cherubim, these supernatural beings, were “devoid of human feelings” and were created for singular purposes such as buttressing and protecting the places of the Divine.[2]

The Cherubim are lucky perhaps. They have no anger, no jealousy, no sadness, no impulse controls, and no other detractors that keep them from their mission and purpose. Feelings never dominate their actions. However, one can not but feel sorry for them. As the expression goes, “It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

This brings us to a critical juncture. Considering all of this, how do we find that middle path prevent us from going down the dark road of insidious passion that drove Adam and Eve to eat the apple from the Tree of Knowledge and Cain to viciously butcher his own brother, while also not resorting to a way of life filled only by pure, unfiltered, blind task and purpose, objectivity, rationality, regulation, or logic?

Perhaps it is this: we must first learn to recognize and understand our emotions, biases, and feelings, and thoughts. Second, we must learn to make them work for us rather than us working for them by inculcating them with objectivity.

There is no crime in having feelings or emotions. The downfall is allowing them to dictate our actions. Our goal should therefore be a middle ground that is neither purely emotional or entirely guided by “cold, hard” facts. In the field of psychological field of Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), this synthesis, this approach is called “The Wise Mind.”[3] Our ancients would have agreed, as it is written in Proverbs, “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.”[4]

Bizrat HaShem, just as some of our most beloved objects – the Havdalah candle and Challah –  are based on the intertwining of strands to create something whole, so too may we likewise be guided by an equal intertwining of emotion, feeling, fact, and objectivity to become more complete, wholistic people.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.  

Bivrakha,

From the desk of Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

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

(540) 667-1889 (office)

Moses the G.O.A.T

Chag Sameach and Shabbat Shalom!

I hope this finds you all well.

There’s this kid, and from a young age, he’s a football prodigy with many in his county proclaiming that he’s the best wide receiver they’ve ever seen. The pee-wee coaches go as far as to declare that he could put Don Hutson and Jerry Rice to shame. He smashes the record books in middle school football, sails through the JV squad, and once he hits varsity, not only is he a local celebrity, but every college scout and coach in the country is chomping at the bit to get him into their program.

Well, he goes off to a big-name college just as you’d expect, but once he’s there, he’s…really good, but he’s no longer the best. He’s no longer #1. There are folks who are better than him. He still does really well though and after four years he gets drafted into the NFL. But once he’s in pro-ball, he’s…average. He plays a couple seasons, doesn’t really shine, is let go from a couple of teams, gets injured, and before you know it, five years after college, his professional career is over.

The point of all this: this guy was great, phenomenal even, but there were players who were better than him. And you know what? That’s ok. Does that invalidate him, his accomplishments, his accolades, or his career? No, absolutely not.

As we near the holiday of Simchat Torah and begin our yearly Torah reading cycle once again from the beginning, I am reminded of one of the last verses of our sacred text:

“Never again did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses – whom God singled out, face to face.” [1]

I’m guessing that some could take this to mean that Moses was the G.O.A.T – the greatest [prophet] of all time.

But here’s the thing: so what if he was? Does this invalidate or devalue the work of the other prophets?

Does this mean that Jonah’s preaching to Nineveh was unimportant? No!

Does this mean that Ezekiel’s warnings to his fellow Judeans didn’t matter? No!

And does this mean that Isaiah’s words of comfort can’t help repair a wounded heart? No!

In the famous 2006 Will Ferrell comedy Talladega Nights, a young Ricky Bobby is told by his wayward father (played by Gary Cole), “If you ain’t first, you’re last.”[2]. This toxic advice transforms Ricky into an arrogant, uncompromising, and destructive adult.

If we lead our lives and tell others to live theirs by the mantras “first or last”, “100 or 0”, “best or worst,” “valedictorian or dunce cap,” or “gold or bust,” both our days and theirs will ultimately be filled with sadness, stress, and heartbroken disappointment.

Bizrat HaShem, may we all remember that we don’t have to be the best at something in order to make a positive, lasting impact. Sometimes it’s great not to be the best, it’s great to be good, and it’s great even to just be ok. May we in this new year of 5785 show gentleness, kindness, and understanding to both ourselves and others.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a very happy holiday.

Bivrakha,

From the desk of: Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

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

(540) 667-1889 (office)

G’mar Chatimah Tovah

I hope this finds you all well.

One of the shortest prayers in the Torah is Moses’ plea that God heal his leprosy-stricken sister Miriam: “El Na Refah Na La – God, please hear now.”[1]

Some of the most powerful things we can say in life are also the most concise. They require no illustrious speeches or grand gestures. For many, however, they are also some of the hardest to say: a teacher who has to again and again prompt their students to say “excuse me,” and “may I…,” a parent who has to remind their child to say “please” and “thank you,” and on Yom Kippur,  all of us to authentically and honestly say, “I’m sorry.”

Why is it so hard to say these “simple words”: “I apologize”, “I was wrong”, and “I’m sorry”? Because it requires modesty and vulnerability. As people, biological creatures, we naturally want to protect and shield ourselves from anything that can leave us exposed or open. However, as descendants of Moses and the children of Torah we are taught to be humble. To this end, Jewish philosopher and prime minister of Italy Luigi Luzzatti penned, “The greatest minds are those which, even in the act of creation, remain humble,” and Rabbi Meir of the Talmud taught, “Be humble before all men.”[2]

Bizrat HaShem, in this new year of 5785 and in front of the open ark on this Yom Kippur, this day of atonement, may we all have the humility to say “I’m sorry.’

Tizku Leshanim Rabot and Tzom Kal – May you merit many years and may you have an easy fast.

Bivrakha,

From the desk of: Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

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

(540) 667-1889 (office)

I hope this finds you all well.

Every day when I was a little boy my dad would put a word or phrase of Latin into my brown-bagged lunch. Likewise, he placed dozens and dozens of Hebrew flashcards around the house. So, for example, there was a card with khalon (window) taped to the window, m’karer(refrigerator) on the fridge, and madaf s’farim (bookshelf) in our library. What was the point of all this? I’d like to think it was two-fold. First, it was a true demonstration of his love for me and my brother. Second, he sought to show us that the potential for education, learning, and gaining knowledge was not bound to the finite parameters of a book, television, or computer screen; rather it could be found anywhere.

In this week’s parsha (portion) of Ha’azinu*, Moses beseeches God that all Israel hear his prophetic words:

“Give ear, O heavens, let me speak;

Let the earth hear the words I utter!

May my discourse come down as the rain,

My speech distill as the dew,

Like showers on young growth,

Like droplets on the grass.”[1]

Rain finds its way into every crack, nook, and cranny. This is one reason why fauna can grow from such unsuspecting places.

In Judaism, there is the famous expression lilmod ulilamed – to learn and to teach. In other words, everything we know, we should pass on. In the Army, there is the famous “hip-pocket” model. What this means is that if there is a group of junior enlisted soldiers who just are simply standing around, a non-commissioned officer (NCO) should know to take charge of the group and teach them something, anything really, that will make them better at their job.

Just as rainwater covers every inch of exposed earth and finds its way into every burrow, so too in this new year of 5785, we must take every moment and opportunity to learn and to teach others, especially the next generation. We have a mandate, a responsibility to fill their days with study and learning. It is perhaps the greatest gift we can give them. Bizrat HaShem, may the world bloom as a result of all the skills, expertise, lessons, knowledge, and values we pass on to our children and grandchildren.

Shanah Tovah u’metukah! G’mar khatimah tovah!  May you be blessed with a good and sweet new year and may you be inscribed for good in the Book of Life!

From the desk of: 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.

I was recently at my brother’s wedding. The Rabbi who was officiating brought up during her sermon a teaching from the Ba’al Shem Tov: “…if a couple was fighting, they should read the ketubah[marriage contract] aloud to each other because this would help them remember the day of their marriage, when they affirmed their covenant with each other, when they were surrounded with love and good wishes, and when God entered their relationship.”[1]

I love this sentiment. I would echo the fact that both parties, both spouses, affirmed their lives to one another by signing the ketubah with their names. By putting their hands, their penmanship to this paper, by signing this document, they committed themselves both to one another and to this holy union and sacred institution. It is a relationship that they and no one else can enjoy or possess. It is uniquely theirs.

In this week’s combined parsha of Nitzavim-Vayelech*, every Israelite is commanded to write their own Torah.[2]  Think about that – writing the entire Torah by hand…Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, the seven days of creation, Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Noah and the Flood, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Sara, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah, Joseph and his dreams, the birth of Moses, the ten plagues, the twelve tribes, the splitting of the sea, the Golden Calf, the 613 commandments, etc., etc., etc.!  All of it!

Look – anyone can go out and buy a Torah. And anyone can give you a Torah. Heck, you can even go online and look up the Torah.

But when it’s your Torah that you thoughtfully, carefully, and painstakingly transcribed and wrote down word for word and letter for letter, the Torah itself takes on a special meaning and a unique bond between you and HaShem. One can argue Jim’s Torah reads exactly like Bob’s Torah, which is identical to Mary’s and Sally’s, but still it’s just not the same. Something happened; something took place when it was the work of your own hand.

Arguing in front of the ketubah provides for an azimuth check when a couple gets off course, and allows them the opportunity and reminder to de-escalate, apologize, and reset. Similarly, when lost, confused, angry, ashamed, disheartened, or downtrodden, someone can always turn to their Torah that they wrote, and find in it divine words of consolation, knowledge, resiliency, hope, and inspiration.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s love and help, in this new year of 5785, may we all be blessed with the opportunity to write our own Torahs.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

From the desk of: Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

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

(540) 667-1889 (office)

In the 2004 film The Alamo, there’s a sentimental scene between legendary Texan frontiersmen William Travis (played by Patrick Wilson) and Jim Bowie (played by Jason Patric). Knowing they are facing certain death at the hands of Santa Anna’s besieging Mexican army, they put aside their animosity and tension for a moment of brief mutual respect, even friendship. Near the end of their talk, the bed-ridden, incapacitated Bowie says to Travis, “You know, if you live five more years, you might just be a great man.” Travis replies, “I think I will probably have to settle for what I am now.”[1]

In this week’s parsha of Ki Tavo*, we receive the following mitzvah (commandment):

“The Lord will establish you as His holy people as He swore to you, if you observe the commandments of the Lord, your God, and walk in His ways.”[2]

At this moment, we find ourselves in the month of Elul which immediately precedes Rosh HaShanah, the new year.

It’s often said that Elul is a month of spiritual preparation wherein we not only renew, but indeed strengthen our relationship with God.[3]

Perhaps then, in this sacred season, we can consciously and intentionally use this time to become more of the people we want to be as we walk in God’s path, following His ways. May we neither tarry, neglect, or allow Elul – this invaluable opportunity, to slip through our fingers. We don’t have to wait when it comes to becoming the people we truly want to be.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

L’Shalom,

From the Desk of: Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

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

Shabbat Shalom! I hope this finds you all well.

It’s a Friday. You’ve had a long week by anyone’s measure. You just want to go home, relax and decompress. As you pull into your driveway and get out of your car, you see your elderly neighbor eyeing an enormous box with a refrigerator in it that’s taller than you. Look, you just wanted to go inside and rest, but now there’s a voice that’s telling you to go over and help. So you go.

“Oh hi,” the neighbor says,

“Hi. Do you need any help with that?” you ask.

“No, no, no- I don’t want to bother you,” they reply.

“It’s all good,” you say reassuringly.

“Well, if you insist, sure.” the neighbor says, with a smile of gratitude on their face.

And you lug that heavy, cumbersome refrigerator up an awkward flight of stairs, huffing and puffing, muttering under your breath all the while, and even breaking a decent sweat too. You just wanted to go home, but now there’s this.

After you put the fridge in place, your elderly neighbor doesn’t hand you a check, cash, or a gift card. They simply smile that wonderful smile and say “Thank you, I couldn’t have done this without you.” At that moment you know that if those exact circumstances arose again, you would do it just the same.

And why?

Because there was this voice that told you that it was the right thing to do.

In this week’s parsha of Ki Teitzei*, we are given two simple, yet mighty commandments:

“If you see your fellow Israelite’s ox or sheep gone astray, do not ignore it; you must take it back to your peer.”[1]

“You shall do the same with that person’s donkey; you shall do the same with that person’s garment; and so too shall you do with anything that your fellow Israelite loses and you find: you must not remain indifferent.”[2]

Being moral, virtuous, kind, and upstanding is often inconvenient, time-consuming, difficult, grueling, unforgiving, and – more often than not – goes unnoticed, unrecognized, and unappreciated. Yet we are still obligated to do them because these are the signs and qualities of a tzedek/tzadeket – a truly righteous person.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s loving guidance and help, may we always be motivated to do the right thing whether we are rewarded for it or not.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

From the desk of: 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.

In 1945, U.S. Army Master Sergeant Roddie Edmonds, the senior American POW at Stalag IX, and a gentile, was told by the German commandant to turn over all Jewish-American Soldiers in the compound to him. The next day, Edmonds instructed every one of the prisoners to report for formation. When the commandant demanded to know what was going on, Edmonds calmly replied, “We are all Jews.” When the commandant responded by pulling out his pistol and pointing it in Edmonds’ face, Edmonds, without losing his composure, said, “According to the Geneva Convention, we have to give only our name, rank, and serial number. If you shoot me, you will have to shoot all of us, and after the war you will be tried for war crimes.”[1]  The commandant walked off, and nothing happened to the Jewish Soldiers under Edmonds’ responsibility.

On July 12, 2018, in Paktia Province, Afghanistan, Jewish-American U.S. Army Ranger Sergeant First Class Christopher Andrew Celiz selflessly laid down his life when he placed himself between a medical evacuation helicopter that was extracting a wounded soldier from the battlefield and the terrorist forces who were attempting to shoot it down. He posthumously received the Congressional Medal of Honor for his incredible heroism.[2]

On October 7, 2023, Qaid Farhan Alkadi, a Bedouin Israeli was shot in the leg by Hamas and then taken hostage for 326 days after he refused to tell the terrorists “where the Jews were.”[3]

Mr. Alkadi’s, Sergeant First Class Chris Celiz’s, and Master Sergeant Roddie Edmonds’ bravery reminds me of a vital commandment we receive in this week’s portion of Shoftim*:

“Before you join battle, the priest shall come forward and address the troops. He shall say to them, “Hear, O Israel! You are about to join battle with your enemy. Let not your courage falter. Do not be in fear, or in panic, or in dread of them. For it is Adonai your God who marches with you to do battle for you against your enemy, to bring you victory.”[4]

We currently live in one of the most horrific periods of anti-Semitism in recent history, from the barbaric Hamas, Hezbollah, Houthi, and Iranian assaults on Israelis, to the unrelenting bullying, harassment, intimidation, physical attacks, and doxxing of Jewish students and faculty on college and high school campuses across the country, to the firebombings of synagogues in France and Germany.

What can we do in the face of this deluge of hate, this incomprehensible madness?

Two words: Be Brave!

We must be brave like our ancestors who stood with God in the face of their ancestors, and we must be brave like Roddie Edmonds, Chris Celiz, and Qaid Farhan Alkadi who defied the Nazis, Hamas, and all others who have hated us. We must never surrender our opinions, our beliefs, or our basic desire to live, practice, and pray openly and proudly as Jews.

Bizrat HaShem, may we draw upon the examples of such noble heroes and exhibit such courage and bravery ourselves, and may we never forget those Jews and non-Jews alike who have stood up and risked everything to defend us.

Wishing you a Good Shabbos and a weekend of peace and quiet.

Bivrakha,

From the desk of: 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.

If you’re ever in Medellin, Colombia, there’s a neighborhood named “Barrio Pablo Escobar.”[1] Yes, it’s named after that Pablo Escobar. The question begs, why? Why would the people of the area name their community after such a violent narco-trafficker who held the country hostage in his years-long wave of violence? Well, for the impoverished people of Medellin, he built schools, soccer stadiums, and health clinics.[2] To this day he remains a folk hero in Medellin, with giant murals of him painted on buildings and walls, and residents keeping shrines dedicated to his memory in their homes.[3]

So, did Escobar do good for the poor of Medellin? Yes, he did.

Were all those schools, soccer fields, and health clinics built on the blood and mangled bodies of the thousands of brave and noble Colombian politicians, judges, prosecutors, police officers, and innocent civilians and bystanders he butchered, the women and children he left widowed and orphaned, and the countless victims around the globe that he poisoned with his cocaine? Without a single, solitary doubt- yes.

In this week’s parsha of Re’eh*, we are told that if a city turns to idol worship, it should be completely destroyed (never to be rebuilt) and that no benefit should be derived from it.[4] For example, no stones from the city should be used to construct new buildings and no valuables should be brought back as a spoil or prize. In essence, everything is contaminated by idolatry and therefore needs to be consumed by fire.

These mitzvot are clear-cut, and black-and-white.

Some might argue that this is easier said than done. For instance, what if a leading cancer-hospital that saves lives everyday finds out that its leading mega-donor has made their fortune through illegal and immoral means. Are they supposed to give the money back? After all, did those ill-gotten gains not save lives?

So, at what point does the moral price tag become too high for the monetary donation?

Sometimes the answers are not easy; but yet, we still have an obligation to make a decision, believe in that decision, be able justify that decision to ourselves and God, and stand by that decision and its consequences in judgement for all time.

I often find solace in a quote by Jewish CEO and author Ben Horowitz: “Every time you make the hard, correct decision you become a bit more courageous and every time you make the easy, wrong decision you become a bit more cowardly.”[5]

May God Bless us as we wrestle with Torah.

Wishing you all a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

Bivrakha,

From the desk of: Rabbi Aaron Stucker-Rozovsky

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

(540) 667-1889 (office)