by Inna Pasternak

Just over 6 years ago I hosted a Siyum Hashas at Havurat Shalom. I was my second time finishing, and I was eager to have others share in the celebration. We learned the end of Meseches Nidah together, and then the entire first amud of Meseches Brachos. The room was full and I greatly appreciate so many people turning out to support my accomplishment. As we finished, I joked to the assembled crowd, who were not yet "doing the daf" as the kids now call it, "Wasn't this fun? Don't you want to do it every day?"  

To my very pleasant surprise, a few of them said yes. We stared meeting once a week to review the content of that week's dapim and diagram out the flow of what we'd learned. Two months later, we planned out our first group siyum. We'd planned to meet in the Havurah and learn the end of Brachos and the beginning of Shabbes together, and celebrate with a nosh and a l'chaim. Unfortunately, that was March of 2020, and I ended up missing the event while quarantined for COVID-19. I figured I'd be back to joining the weekly reviews when my 2 weeks of isolation were up, but Hashem had different plans.

Soon, we all found ourselves locked down and navigating life on Zoom. But suddenly we also had a lot more time on our hands. The weekly in-person review sessions were replaced by daily Zoom group learning sessions. On Shabbes, we'd meet outside in the Hav's backyard, sitting twelve feet apart and wearing masks as we hunched over books and printouts. Occasionally another Havnick would happen by on their afternoon walk. "What are you all up to here?" they'd ask. And slowly our group grew.

Over time, as vaccines rolled out and furloughs ended, it got harder and harder to meet every day as a group. We started to split off, some learning in pairs or threes, others studying on their own. For a while we'd still meet as a whole group on Shabbes afternoons at the Hav, but over the years that has also faded away. The whole group now only regularly meets for siyums.

Other things changed over time too. New learners joined while others dropped off. My havrusa and I started dating, got married, and had our first child. Now, a regular feature of our siyums is me pacing around with a sleeping baby, or gently holding their hands to keep them from ripping pages.

Tonight, we are meeting for another siyum as we finish meseches zevachim. B"H, in just another year and a half we'll celebrate the Siyum Hashas again, this time as a group of learners. Who knows what the next year and half will bring, or the next seven and a half year cycle, for that matter. The text is always the same, but the readers keep changing. G-d willing, we'll meet again to toast life and learning!

by Ruth Abrams

Chronic insomnia is a health problem in the United States, even when we aren’t consciously worrying about specific developments on the news. There is research evidence that insomnia increases the risk of anxiety and depression, and conversely, people with chronic anxiety or depression are also very likely to have insomnia as a symptom.

When we need to rest, we need peace. Sleep hygiene advice is all about creating a dark cool environment, reducing stressful input before bed, and setting boundaries to keep our beds a special sleeping zone and night a special sleeping time.
 
It’s much harder for me to follow the rules of sleep hygiene than to keep Shabbat.  Giving myself permission once a week not to be productive is much simpler than trying to get to bed at the same time every night. How can I put down my devices and stop scrolling? Except on Shabbat, of course, I do.  God asked us to rest. God told us to rest! God commanded us to rest. God modeled resting.
 
But now, when Shabbat comes, or when I’m celebrating any Jewish holiday, I’m reminded of all the bad things Jews are doing in the world these days. There’s a technical term for violating commandments that are universal moral principles. It’s “hillul hashem” or “desecration of the divine name.”

I don’t think I’ve ever understood so well the problem of Jews doing evil deeds. I fear it will drive all our children away from Judaism. Or maybe it will drive me away. I say that even though I’m doing some Jewish study every single day! It doesn’t matter. Every day I’m flooded by the contradiction between the lives we’re trying to live and support, and the actions of some Jewish people in Israel and in the Trump administration.
 
When the news is bad, it gets harder to sleep. Maybe you can’t sleep for other reasons than my reasons. It’s not like it feels so safe in the world right now. I drafted this right after the shooting in Australia.

After spending my youth trying to understand the causal relationships in history, I can’t help thinking about how things happening now will affect the future.
 
There’s a technical term for this kind of thinking. We call it “worrying.” This “worrying” is one of the key reasons why we can’t freaking sleep.
 
Yet what if we don’t worry? Will the planet stop spinning? Can we make things better with our thoughts? Is worrying the same as praying? Some people read Psalms or learn Talmud but you could just make a list of people you are worrying about. My sister let slip that she has one. (I think it’s mental and not on paper. She has a good memory.)
 
How does this relate to Shabbat? Can we have a taste of the world to come if we are worrying? Can we call Shabbat a delight when we can’t stop thinking about whether Judaism has somehow caused Jews to do bad things? But if I only see people once a week on Shabbat–and now that I’m active in two synagogues, I see the Havurah people more like once a month–how can I avoid sharing my worries? How can we not talk about this when we see each other?
 
In my adult life, I’ve always had a period of frantic anxiety and rushing before Shabbat starts. Once I’ve lit the candles, I observe restrictions that prevent me from continuing to work. There is a stop and it’s there to force me to rest. I can’t censor my thoughts, but I have learned to say “gut Shabbes, gut Shabbes, gut Shabbes,” to stop myself from talking about money and business.
 
I might never learn to have good sleep hygiene, but I do try to make sure I’ve done whatever I need to do during the day to allow myself to attempt to sleep. I experiment to find out what exactly must be done for me to shut off my brain. It doesn’t always work. I have learned to let go of needing every single idea to solve the problem.

I want to suggest that we find times that are not Shabbat to express our worries about the future, our anger and fear and grief about the present, and just to tell the truth about how we feel.

This isn’t to shut down our attempts to connect authentically when we see each other on Shabbat. We can be real with each other without giving up our rest. Since we are a community of people trying to repair, heal and improve ourselves and the world, it might be OK to try to do this together on a weekday sometime.

That way, Shabbat can be the place where we land to rest, the time when we experience breath, Jewish time, and delight.
 
Anyway, think about whether that’s something you might want to try.

by Aliza Arzt

When I was a child and car odometers were mechanical rather than electronic, it was always exciting to watch the digits change as they slowly turned during the last tenth of a mile on their way to a new number.  It was especially exciting when we were privileged to watch the transition from 99,999 to 100,000.  Since I was born at the end of the calendar year, I’ve had a similar experience, watching 2025 roll by with plenty of time to reflect and anticipate my approaching entrance to my eighth decade.
 
To me, 70 seems a more weighty milestone than any of the big digit changes that have arrived in the past. In order to help me process it, I’ve thought about what Jewish tradition has to say about this number, as well as my personal thoughts about what this milestone means to me. 
           
One of the most famous references is from Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) where, in chapter 5 verse 21, Rabbi Judah ben Temah discusses what characterizes each age:

He used to say: At five years of age the study of Torah;
At ten the study of Mishnah;
At thirteen subject to the commandments [i.e. B’mitzvah age];
At fifteen the study of Talmud;
At eighteen the bridal canopy;
At twenty for pursuit [of livelihood];
At thirty the peak of strength;
At forty wisdom;
At fifty able to give counsel;
At sixty old age;
At seventy “שֵׂיבָה”
(translated as “fullness of years” and also as “white haired old age”). . . 

This does sound as if we are near the end of the line at 70!
 
I can still take some comfort from what Proverbs (16:31) has to say about this milestone:

  עֲטֶ֣רֶת תִּפְאֶ֣רֶת שֵׂיבָ֑ה בְּדֶ֥רֶךְ צְ֝דָקָ֗ה תִּמָּצֵֽא׃

Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is attained by the way of righteousness

Even though our ancestors in Genesis seem to have lived extraordinarily long lives, by the time we reach the book of psalms, the prediction is much more realistic:

 
יְמֵֽי־שְׁנוֹתֵ֨ינוּ בָהֶ֥ם שִׁבְעִ֪ים שָׁנָ֡ה וְאִ֤ם בִּגְבוּרֹ֨ת ׀ שְׁמ֘וֹנִ֤ים שָׁנָ֗ה וְ֭רׇהְבָּם עָמָ֣ל וָאָ֑וֶן

כִּי־גָ֥ז חִ֝֗ישׁ וַנָּעֻֽפָה׃
Although we may live to be seventy, perhaps eighty granted strength,
our best efforts are but toil and foolishness;
they quickly come apart and drift away (Ps. 90:10)

In this part of our country, many of us are blessed with decades of a healthy and productive life.  If we have children, they are often home with us for a total of 2 decades or more and during that time, our lives settle around the rhythms of child-rearing.  When our children leave, we have more decades of productive work and community engagement.  This activity comes to feel familiar and eternal to us. I find, as I reach the age of 70, that I reflect more on the “end game” of life.  I have more years of productive adulthood behind me than ahead of me.  Things ache that didn’t hurt in the past and thoughts flee from my mind more quickly than they did before.  I find myself asking myself questions that I have no need to ask at this time, though they arrive in my mind periodically anyway:  What will I do when I can’t get into my claw-foot bathtub anymore? What’s going to happen to my books? My pets? My “stuff”?  Believe me, this is not a useful line of inquiry to take given the fact that I have no significant health or cognitive challenges at this time, but they come to mind anyway.
 
In my opinion, the most important question to consider at this time of my life is how to walk the boundary between reveling in the productivity of my current life now that I don’t have to spend time raising children and working while at the same time putting my affairs in order for my eventual demise?  Once again, I turn to Psalm 90 for comfort and advice:

 
לִמְנ֣וֹת יָ֭מֵינוּ כֵּ֣ן הוֹדַ֑ע וְ֝נָבִ֗א לְבַ֣ב חׇכְמָֽה׃
 
Teach us to apportion our days,
that we may come to have a heart of wisdom (Ps. 90:12)

The key word here is “לִמְנ֣וֹת” which is usually translated as “to number”, but more accurately means “to portion out”.  What is still meaningful to me in my life to do for my own edification and to help my community? As I review what I’ve accumulated in knowledge and wisdom during the decades of my adulthood, what legacy do I want to leave and to what extent can I take an active role in crafting that legacy?  Each of us has a different answer to these questions.  To my mind, the most important thing is to ask these questions and to contemplate the answers that arrive.
 
My response to these questions has been fourfold:

• to enjoy and connect with my family.

We are fortunate to be free of significant interpersonal pain and conflict.  I have a spouse and children that I admire and respect and we work together to make sure that we have time to enjoy and engage with each other.

• to continue to learn and explore new pathways.

Although I don’t have the memory skills of my youth, I study Cantonese and Arabic every evening, spend 2 days a week studying the Qur’an and reading meaningful non-fiction books about which I take copious notes in order to be able to access the content at will.  I continue to teach about topics that interest me and that seem to interest the community as well.

• to devote time to my close and extended communities.

            My strong engagement with the Havurah continues. Of necessity, within the last year, I’ve increased political action and community care by driving people to appointments, writing letters, making phone calls and patrolling my city in case there’s a need to witness and document kidnapping and assaults on my neighbors.  I’m finding ways to productively express my distress about what’s going on in Gaza along with my hopes for an Israel of my dreams.

• to preserve the results of my learning in a form accessible to interested people.

            I’m writing about topics that I’ve taught about in the past, for which I currently have only a source sheet, in order to produce a document that explains my train of thought, ideas and conclusions in a way that’s accessible to anyone who’s interested.  I’m still hoping to write an annotated Siddur Birkat Shalom to explain about the changes we’ve made in the liturgy during the past 40+ years.
 
There will come a day when carrying out some or all of these activities is beyond me, just as running up and down the stairs or carrying a 50 pound load is no longer an option.   I continue to hope that when this happens I’ll have the insight and understanding to pivot to other activities that are within my reach and to always be able to fulfill my goal of living a meaningful life

by Bev Schwartz

When I get too much on my plate, I usually end up overwhelmed, in front of the tv, binge watching something I've seen many times before, hoping the whole mess will magically disappear.

I had three big things on my plate:

• A very high stakes work demo and deadline.  The customer demo was scheduled on Yom Kippur.  I said absolutely not.  It got moved to the next week.
  
• Being part of the Hav community and living up to my commitments for the chaggim, which included preparing and leading a service and running and reporting on the Reverse Tashlich.
  
• The proposed Somerville City Charter was signed by the Governor on September 19th and would be on the November 4th ballot. Those of us who were involved with creating the charter now had to put together a campaign for the charter and get the word out to tens of thousands of voters in a month and a half.
  

Please, can I just turn on the tv, sink into the couch and not have to do any of this?

The work situation explained: The previous demo went well, and the government customer was pleased.  Great!  Until the next day, when the larger program that my project was a part of was cancelled.  Now the priority was documentation so that the customer could reproduce the demo without us, so they could find another funder.  I hate documentation.  And they wanted all the scripts we used for the demo, scripts that were never meant to be delivered, and were kind of, well, ugly.

Hop over to the High Holidays:  Time is running out to get the word out about Reverse Tashlich.  And time is running out for preparing my leading for 2nd night Rosh HaShannah.  Both involved writing, not my strong suit.

Hop over to the City Charter:  We had to create a campaign organization, create a mailer, write up documents explaining it, etc.  So much stuff out of my comfort zone.  And I was the one with the most intricate knowledge of the charter, so guess who had to write up materials to explain it.  Uggh, not my favorite thing.

Um, the tv is over there, calling my name...

A number of us were working on the documentation at work.  And I had people to read things over and help me.  I was not alone.

The volunteers for the charter campaign had a variety of skills, some of whom were experts in the things I didn't know how to do.  And 3 of us got together to discuss the mailer and literature.  I was not alone.

I came up with the idea of writing up the Reverse Tashlich description as if I was writing a cruise advertisement.  My wife thought that was hysterical and was happy to help.  I was not alone.

So with a stack of cruise line catalogs and the help of my wife, we came up with zingers like:

• In these Days of Awe, rather than throwing your nutritionally-deficient sins into a body of water, pick up your sins from the banks of the glorious Mystic River.
  
• Come see the natural beauty of the Mystic River teeming with human-corrupted waterfowl relaxing on trash-filled shores.
  
• We will gather at the sunlit river outlook opposite the rotary where the majestic Grand Union Boulevard meets the labyrinthine Great River Road.
  
• Our group will take a leisurely stroll westward to turn off on a scrub-lined trail across the street from Raymour & Flanigan, the crown jewel in our enviable collection of discount furniture stores in the glamorous Assembly district.
  
• Participate in the time-honored collection of colorful debris either on dry land where ancient peoples once walked, or along the inviting shore.
  
• After disposing of the river's timeless  treasures, we can tour charming streets to discover a tucked away quaint public restroom to restore ourselves to culturally-accepted cleanliness.
  

We were laughing so hard, the task became fun.  

And while I was still fretting about what to do with my service, I realized that I had been completely absorbed in humor, and that humor was what was helping me get through my challenges. And so humor became the theme of my service, not just reading my "ad" for Reverse Tashlich, but sharing fun pictures and stories from the times I've picked trash.  A reminder of how important humor is to endure challenging times.  The service was well-received.

And Reverse Tashlich?  We had 10 people show up, collected 7 bags of trash, and had a good time. And one of the younger members of the group landed a shark.

And so back to work and endless documentation. And what to say about those ugly scripts?  I wrote in the official documentation, "You may be looking at this and saying, there's got to be a better way... You're right, there is.  These scripts were written for a different program with different needs.  It was easier to adapt the old scripts than write new scripts.  Don't tell me you've never done the same. ;)"  When the customers came, they commented on how much they liked my snarky documentation.  Humor helped me, but it also helped them read through the reams of documentation before they arrived.

And finally the charter.  One member of the group was great at coming up with some good lines and created a Golden Girls meme:

• Govern like it's no longer 1899!
  
• Sophia: "Picture it, Somerville. 1899. A city charter is written and no one knows it will remain the same document (with some revisions) until 2025."
  
• Dorothy: "Ma, tell them why they should vote yes."
  
• Rose: "As we say in St. Olaf, vote yes on Question 1!"
  

And I created a website.  Writing thousands of lines of html, css, and javascript... no problem.  Figuring out how to launch a website.  Uggh.  Quick google search and I'm at godaddy.com.  Find a domain name... yes-on-charter.info.  Someone commented that they couldn't believe that domain name was available.  "Hey," I said, "not only was it available, it was only $4."

Okay, I've got to share it.  https://yes-on-charter.info

And then I signed up to write this blog post. Writing, not my favorite thing.  Remember, keep it funny!

Keeping fingers crossed for November 4th...

by Shifra Lilith Freewoman

Take a trip with me down Memory Lane of history/herstory of my years at the Havurah, always a safe, open, freeing sacred place to be myself in a Jewish community. So many of us who did not feel included or welcome elsewhere, like women, LGBTQ people or interfaith couples were and are welcome here. 
 
I first heard of Havurat Shalom from Sharon Strassfeld, in 1978. She was one of the very early and important members. She and her husband at the time, Michael, along with Danny Seigel, wrote the 3 volume Jewish Catalogue featuring the picture of our macrame Torah cover that is still at the Havurah to this day. Sharon taught at my day school, the New England Hebrew Academy, a Lubavitch Yeshiva, and mentioned the Havurah. At that time, though I was nominally Orthodox, I chafed at the restrictions on women. I hated the mehitzah, wanted to be called up to the Torah and be a part of the minyan. I wanted to be a Rabbi.  And when I said women should be counted in a minyan, I got ridicule, disgust and shaming; it was quite scary to speak up. I also was gay and there was ZERO acceptance.
 
So, when I heard about Havurat Shalom, I came and stayed over for Shabbes in the back room, the same guest room I sleep in when I come to Havurah now. I spent many happy Shabbats at the Hav. I was hooked.  It was my safe space, because I was not safe at home. There was acceptance, and it was a thrill to lift the Torah and be a part of the minyan. I loved the kavanah, the singing. There was the same devout spirit of the Orthodox community, but with equality for women and acceptance of gay people. Since I was used to Hebrew, I liked the services. I could have Yiddishkeit without exclusion and intolerance. Had it not been for the Havurah, I might just have abandoned Judaism. That was true for many of us. In the 1970s the only other shul that accepted gay people was Am Tikvah, the Boston area gay synagogue.  
 
Younger people may not understand how difficult it was to be gay in the Jewish community at that time. The Havurah and Am Tikva, for a long time, were the only places with full acceptance.  Now it is very different and most non-Orthodox shuls are pretty accepting.  The movement succeeded, but back in the day the Hav was one of the only spaces that welcomed us whole heartedly.
 
There was an openness to non-Jews and interfaith couples. I have never been one to like insularity. I often felt that I could not breathe in the Orthodox community, because of so many rules and walls between men and women and Jews and non-Jews. At the Hav I could relax, breathe free, feel accepted and see others accepted and extend this acceptance. I loved being part of the davening, not apart from it. It's very different to pray from behind a mehitzah/divider than to pray with a group of people. I was no longer an outsider. I liked seeing women lead, be called to the Torah and be part of the minyan. I could sing and be a part of the community, not seen as a distraction for men.
 
At Havurat Shalom, it was wonderful to be with women and men, welcomed, to be with powerful women and men who liked having women included. Now that I have been at the Havurah for decades, and now that so many shuls include women and welcome gay people, it has become a part of my normal rhythm. But then it was extraordinary.  It is easy 46 years later to take equality for granted, but at the time, it was pathbreaking, quite radical. I remember when group of women who were not bat mitzvahed as youngsters, got Bat Mitzvahed as grown women at the Havurah. It was very moving.
 
Earlier, people lived at the Havurah. The house was often full with as many as 7 people. I lived at the Havurah many times. When we prayed Shivtee Bi Bayt Hashem, I dwell in the house of God, it had a special meaning, because I literally was dwelling in the House of God.
 
A highlight of my time at the Havurah was when we decided to become a sanctuary synagogue in the 1980s. New Jewish Agenda became involved in the larger Sanctuary Movement, where churches took in refugees from El Salvador and Guatemala. Thousands of Salvadorans and Guatemalans were jailed and murdered for asking for basic services. Liberation Theology was espousing a gospel of justice for the poor, with many churches, some with no priests, standing up for the campesinos/peasants and building a just society.  Hundreds of thousands fled, and it was very hard for these refugees to get asylum, because the US supported their oppressive governments.
 
The impetus for Jewish involvement in Sanctuary was that Jews were angry that during the holocaust so relatively few non-Jews saved Jews.  Therefore, we felt it important that we Jews were willing to do what we wanted Christians to do, save lives of people of a different background. So we did. 
 
After many meetings and much planning, the Havurah took in a young man who had fled El Salvador and was in detention in San Francisco. We bailed him out and he came to live at the Havurah.  I lived there at the time, along with Sarah Lisniansky, a key worker for Sanctuary. The Havurah got him work, and speaking engagements.  He spoke of how he fled when some of his family were murdered for asking for electricity and running water, and how he had to go through Honduras, Nicaragua, and Mexico before getting into the States.
 
I felt grateful and proud to be part of a community that helped save someone's life and worked for justice for a country facing much oppression. The Havurah's early stance as a Sanctuary Synagogue set the stage for larger, more mainstream Jewish communities to join and become sanctuaries as well. 
 
During the 1980s the Havurah decided to write an adapted version of the prayer book, Birkat Shalom, Blessings of Peace. It was important to have a Siddur that saw God as female as well as male. Because Hebrew is gendered, this takes work. We were never just interested in changing grammar. This was a soul project, not a mechanical one; some people wrote their own beautiful prayers and new translations. We changed to language to be respectful to other religions, and took the focus off of hierarchy. Rather than calling for the destruction of wicked people, we called for wickedness to be destroyed and for evil doers to change. 
 
More recently, the Siddur included adaptations to be inclusive of transgender, intersex and non-binary people, so that trans and non-binary people feel included and welcome. It is challenging to use non gendered language in Hebrew because almost all of Hebrew words have a gender, so we do what we can.
 
The Havurah has been and continues to be involved in social justice on many fronts, from feeding the neighborhood with our little free pantry, to providing free books to people through our little free library - thus feeding both body and soul - to helping with the local community fridges, to working with local churches to help Haitians coming into Somerville, to standing up for immigrants and with many members standing up to ICE, to working to  stop unscrupulous developers, to supporting the Black community, to providing space for local groups working to end the killing and the blockade in Gaza, to help hostages get their freedom and to stop the violence in the West Bank, to standing up for the rights of LGBTQ people, to working for a sustainable environment and other issues. The Havurah has always stood for peace, justice and love.  
 
Recently, I derive great naches-pleasure from helping Merit with filling the little free food pantry, especially when I get to interact with the people who come for food. I am proud to know that we are feeding people who otherwise would go hungry or not be able to eat enough. I feel a great love for the Havurah, to still be able to come and stay in my old safe space that welcomed me as a very young woman 47 years ago.
 
From the sixties, when men were trying to find a meaningful Judaism that was not about the car you drove or your clothes, to their commitment to civil rights and ending the Vietnam war, to efforts to get out of the draft and start an alternative rabbinical school, to the 70s and the burgeoning women's and lgbt movements, to the days of the Havurah being a literal sanctuary in addition to being a sanctuary for me and others, to our work for inclusion of trans people and non-binary people, to our efforts to be a welcoming, inclusive community of peace during these heartbreaking times, we hope you join us and continue to live the vision of justice, mercy and peace in this new century. Welcome to Havurat Shalom, Welcome Home.

by Meryl Becker

Puerto Rico

My connection to Puerto Rico is that I lived there for a year many, many years ago as a VISTA volunteer, and I've been there many times since.
At the time I lived there, I went to services in San Juan on a Friday night and everyone was either American or from another Latin American country, so I assumed there were no Puerto Rican Jews. However, when I was there in 2019, I stayed walking distance from one of the synagogues. Since I wasn't going to be there on Shabbat, I walked over to talk to them. The president there told me that there have been Jews in Puerto Rico since Columbus.  Most of them lived in the more remote mountains in the center of the Island, where they could hide more easily from the Inquisition, so their descendants go to services on Saturday morning, when it is not so hard to drive the distance after work. On a side note, the indigenous people, the Tanios, also went to the mountains to hide from their Spanish conquerors. 

I went to Puerto Rico again this past January and made sure I would be there on a Shabbat morning.  There is a Conservative, a Reform and a Chabad synagogue in San Juan. (There are about 2,000 Jews in Puerto Rico) I went to the Feform one, Temple Beth Shalom. Most of their members are Puerto Rican, but there are some Americans, so the prayer book is in Hebrew, Spanish and English and the service on Friday night is in English and Hebrew and Saturday in Spanish and Hebrew. Luckily, I speak Spanish. 

The morning service was very nice, with lunch, and the people were very friendly, including a family who offered to drive me to my hotel. Even though I'd since read that nowadays most of the Puerto Ricans Jews live in the San Juan area, I really wanted to find Jews who had been there for generations.  I did not find anyone who'd been there for generations, but it was very interesting anyway because it turned out that most of the congregation are converts! I talked to 7 people about their backgrounds. One was American, one grew up in Cuba where he didn't know why his father lit candles on Friday nights, and the rest were converts. When I asked them why they converted they all said the same thing: “It felt like home."

Costa Rica

I've also been to Costa Rica many times. My ex-husband and ex- son-in-law are Costa Rican, but we are still friendly, and I visit their families when I go there. Jews in Costa Rica also came there from the time of the Inquisition, but mostly were absorbed into the population. Then there were later waves after World war I and World War II, and more recently Americans and Israelis retiring there. Today there are about 2500-3000 Jews, mostly in San Jose.  

The largest synagogue that also has a community center and museum is Orthodox, but I went to the Reform one a few years ago mostly because they didn't ask for me to email a copy of my passport, and later because I liked it, since the Reform one also started requiring a passport copy. My experience with services in other countries is that they have a lot more security than we do in the US, even in Costa Rica where they tell me there is a little antisemitism. 

When I was there this past July, the beginning of the service at Congregation Bnei Israel was typical for a Reform service, but then they had eight aliyot, the haftorah and mincha. No sermon. So, it was interesting. The prayer book was also in Spanish, English and Hebrew, although the service was in Hebrew and Spanish. People were very friendly and welcoming and had me stand up and introduce myself. Afterwards there was also a lunch - delicious parve tamales! As far as I know, there was also only one other American. People heard I needed a taxi to get back to my hotel. I could hear people talking and brainstorming and figuring out who could help me with that, until a family going my way offered to drive me, which turned out to be very interesting. In a parallel to my experience in Puerto Rico, they were converts. They had been Evangelical Christians who got interested in Judaism and converted, but because they said  the Orthodox shul wouldn't accept them (I forgot to ask them if they had an Orthodox conversion so I don't know if that was the problem), they were practicing Judaism by themselves at home for quite a while until they finally found this synagogue. When I told them they were now part of the tribe, so if they traveled, they could expect the same warm welcome I received, they actually cheered! As they dropped me off, they asked me to pray for their teenage daughter to find a Jewish husband, since the Jewish community is small and it's not easy.

So, different countries, different language, but same service, and same warm Jewish welcome and connection!

by Laura Tennenhouse 

by Crystal Huff

Sometimes the Havurat Shalom blog features interesting things members have done.  So I shall write about my recent trip to Antarctica!  I am not the only current or former member who has spent time in Antarctica; one current member was at McMurdo Station on Ross Island for 3 months, a former member was at the South Pole for 3 months.

First, a bit about Antarctica.  Antarctica is the southernmost continent with no permanent residents. Antarctica is BIG. No country controls Antarctica - there is a cooperation treaty signed in 1959 and went into effect in 1961 which establishes Antarctica as a zone for peaceful scientific research, prohibits military activity, and holds territorial claims in abeyance. It has been signed by 58 parties, promoting international cooperation and environmental protection in the region. See: Antarctic Treaty.

95% of tourism in Antartica are cruises that leave from Tierra del Fuego (southernmost point in South America), go through the Drake Passage to arrive at the Antarctic peninsula, spend several days on excursions on or near the peninsula, then back through Drake passage and return to Tierra del Fuego.  There are a small number of cruises that go to different parts of Antarctica.  Reputable cruise lines are part of IAATO and are expected to follow their guidelines.

To get to McMurdo Station or the South Pole, that requires getting a work contract to go there, either with a science expedition, or a job with whatever company has the contract to do polar support services. See: Antarctic Support Contract

There are also people who do private expeditions of various types; this is allowed by the Antarctic Treaty. At the end of the blog, I have a reference to someone who has done numerous polar expeditions.

I initially became interested in going to Antarctica back in 1991. A colleague's wife was spending a year wintering over at the South Pole, and I thought this was awesome.  I didn't know if I wanted McMurdo (bigger station, on coast, wildlife) or South Pole (extreme cold, small community, no wildlife), or if I wanted to summer over or do an entire year.  I applied for a job at Antarctic Support Associates.  It didn't happen.  I got to live vicariously through other people's experiences.

About five years ago, I found out that someone I knew in elementary school, Dyan deNapoli, is now a world renowned penguin expert!  I hadn't seen this person in over 40 years.  She periodically gets tapped to be the subject matter expert on these cruises, and when Dyan announced her next cruise, I signed up.  This cruise was with Smithsonian Journeys / Ponant  and was the typical format described above. Dyan warned me about rough seas in the Drake Passage, and since I get motion sickness on a hammock, I decided to get the scopolamine patch.  I saw lots of people with a little patch behind an ear.  I can say, it was very effective.  I didn't get sick at all.  But it is very tiring just walking and staying erect when the ship is being tossed about.

I also chose to do the 4-day pre-cruise extension, hiking in the Patagonia. That was well worth my time, as the trip was wonderful (when would I have another chance to hike in the Patagonia?), and it gave me time to bond with the 13 other people participating.

The trip was pure joy.  How can one not be amused when seeing penguins waddling about, particularly juvenile penguins trying to get the attention of their parents?  And when a seal jumped up on our zodiac, we tourists were in our ignorant bliss reacting to just how close the leopard seal came to us thinking it was so cute. The naturalists said, "Definately not cute," and made sure we were all kneeling on the floor of the zodiac with our hands inside.

We had three subject matter experts on our cruise: The Penguin Lady Dyan deNapoli, Polar Explorer Ben Saunders, and Professional Photographer Jim Preston.  Each gave 3 lectures in their area of expertise, hosted a table at dinner every night, and were generally available to the guests to answer questions.  These folks were all very approachable and a pleasure to spend time with.

Temperatures on the peninsula were pretty mild, generally a bit above freezing.  Unfortunately, this is the area of the world with the most rapid temperature rise. This is a significant problem for the penguins, as the babies hatch with fuzz, and don't go in the water until they have a full set of watertight feathers.  But now it sometimes rains on the peninsula, the babies get waterlogged, and if the temperatures drop, they freeze.

There are four types of penguins on Antarctica - emperor, adele, gentoo and chinstrap.  I saw a LOT of gentoo penguins, and one colony of chinstraps.  Emperor penguins are in a different part of Antartica, and it was late in the season for the adeles, so they had already departed from the peninsula.  I guess their chicks get their waterproof feathers sooner than the others.

My cruise was late in the season, so we saw larger juveniles rather than little chicks.  This time of year also gives us molting elephant seals and lots of whales traversing the water.

To see lots of my trip pictures, go to my travel blog at https://bev2antarctica.blogspot.com. It is better to view on a computer than a phone - some of the pictures will have the wrong aspect ratio on a phone. The blog is a little klunky to navigate.  On both a computer and a phone, you will see the most recent post first.  Although I set my preferences to put all of my posts on one page, it didn't do that.  So on the computer, when you scroll down, you will see a link for "Older Posts". It's not at the bottom of the page; it's before a summary of weirdly selected posts at the bottom.  Keeping clicking on "Older Posts" to work your way back.  On a phone, it's a little easier to see where the navigation buttons are. Click on the right ">" to the right of the "Home" button.  It's got a burnt orange background.

Jim Preston's pictures are spectacular and worth a look at https://www.prespix.com/antartica-the-white-continent.

Dyan's done a number of talks and has written books.  Check it out here: https://thepenguinlady.com.

Find out more about Ben's polar expeditions here: https://bensaunders.com/polar-expeditions.

Antarctica: A Year on Ice is a documentary that shows what it's like to be at McMurdo Station for a year.  https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2361700/

Since this is a Judaic blog, I should at least mention a couple of Judaic things.  When I was looking into wintering over at the South Pole, I posted a question about how one celebrated Shabbat in a place with one long sunrise in the spring and one long sunset in the fall.  There were six basic answers:

1. Use Jerusalem time.
2. Use the time of the closest Jewish community with regular sunrise/sunset.
3. Pick a time on the clock, use it consistently, end Shabbat 25 hours later.
4. Use candle lighting time of the city most closely associated to.
5. Use the time you would use at home.
6. Religious Jews should not go to the South Pole because of the difficult halachic issues.

And when I was in Bariloche, there weren't many English speakers, but we did run into Israelis. And the local laundromat even markets to Hebrew speakers.

by Aaron Brandes, Aliza Arzt, Larry Rosenwald, Miriam Schwartz and Cindy Blank-Edelman

Why was this Hav Purimspiel different from all other Hav Purimspiels?

It wasn’t the mixed in-person and Zoom attendance (we did that last year).

It wasn’t the script-writers (mostly the “usual suspects”).

It wasn’t the extensive rehearsals (there were none).

It was how to respond to the on-going violence by Jews initiated in response to violence against Jews.

This year Aliza Arzt began the spiel by quoting from the Book of Esther Chapter 9 about the violence we executed on the day the King had given his irrevocable permission for his people to kill the Jewish citizens of his empire. The second section set a new tone.

Speaker 1: And so it goes throughout history. Jewish communities have been threatened many times. And sometimes they are able to save themselves. And sometimes that saving is carried out effectively with dignity. And sometimes that saving reduces them to the level of their immoral enemies.
 
Speaker 2: We declare an end to the Purim of revenge and destruction! We dedicate this Purim to the hope of redemption, of creative negotiation and reconciliation.
 
Speaker 1: And if that’s not possible?
 
Speaker 2: Then we dedicate this Purim to one of appropriate defense, protection of innocent civilians and the ultimate triumph of hope and mercy.
 
Speaker 1: Ken y’hi ratzon! So may it be!
 
Every year Larry Rosenwald introduces the dramatis personae in dazzling rhyme beginning “Come in, come in you’re welcome here, may (character) please appear.” This year he had something to say about our moral circumstances.
 
MARSHELIK:
(comes in first, and alone)

            Let’s keep in mind what Aliza’s said,
and with no further ado, go ahead.
            Zayt zhe yidn sha un shtil,
mir fangen on dem purimshpil!! –
which is, in Yiddish words, to say
we’ll now begin the Purim play! - 
Bid us now enter, to relate
a tale of strife between courage and hate:
of how a monarch chose a bride,
of how a scheming villain tried
to kill our folk, for malice alone;
of how the bride approached the throne,
proclaimed her tribe, pleaded her case,
and moved the king to amazing grace;
how deadly plots turned cause of laughter,
and  - some – lived happily ever after.
(Among the people not alive,
when the tale is done, are seventy-five
thousand Persians, young and old,
of every gender, stiff and cold
in death. And we the Jews are those
who’ve murdered all we think our foes.
It makes you wonder, who’s the true
villain  in our story, and who
the victim . . . well – I’ll leave that to you.)
            Enough!  It’s time to meet our cast,
from regal first to rebel last. 
Come in, come in, you’re wanted here;
let Shushan’s mighty king appear!
 
Of course, the usual political satire continued, as in this excerpt from Miriam Kadima’s skit.

Queen Vashi:  As you all know, the Monarchy is causing great pain to 99% of the People. Kushites are losing their cushy positions and being forcibly relocated to Kush, one can no longer get a shoeshine in Shushan, peasants are being charged for water they gather from the river, and half the Palace staff has been sacked!  King Trumpēlonōsh is issuing Royal Decrees faster than a sparrow flies!

Archivist:  African, or European sparrow?

For the chapter where the King can't sleep, Aaron Brandes replaced the servants reading from the Royal Chronicles with an AI chatbot. The chatbot may be more truthful than the King, but it lacks a sense of context.

King: So my new Gold card give foreigners a path to citizenship for only 5 million. Another 5 million gives you premium access to me. What do you think?

Chatbot : Well as long as they aren’t representatives of another government, you won’t be violating the Foreign Emoluments Clause, Article I, Section 9, Clause 8 of the United States Constitution.

King:  That clause didn’t bother me before. I say
Emoluments Clause, Santa Clause, I’m a rebel with just
one cause – me.
 
Chatbot : Did you know that Rebel Without a Cause is a 1955 American coming-of-age movie starring James Dean, Natalie Wood and Sal Mineo. Directed by …

King:    Hey I’ve been thinking, my kingdom may go from the Redwood Forests of Hodu to the Gulf Stream Waters of Cush - but I’d like to add some place with a nice view of Russia. I’m thinking Alaska.

Chatbot :  Alaska, purchased from Russia in 1867, is the biggest state in Shushan. It is 663,267 square miles of rich broad land that has produced billions of dollars of gold and oil as well as fish, furs, and timber. 

And it wouldn’t be a Havurah Purimspiel without a musical finale, courtesy of Cindy Blank-Edelman

[Sung to the tune of “Tomorrow” from the musical Annie]
 
The sun’ll come out tomorrow.
Bet your last tzedakah that tomorrow
There’ll be sun.
 
Just thinking about tomorrow
Helps us to go on despite the sorrow.
We’ve begun.
 
When we’re stuck with a year of fear and hatred
That’s the time when we need to read Torah. Ohhhh….
 
The sun’ll come out tomorrow
And we’ve gotta work for that tomorrow
With bracha…
 
Tomorrow, tomorrow, we’ll be here tomorrow
Right here at the Havurah.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, come join us tomorrow
Right here at the Ha—vu—rah!