What’s Happening?

Dear Jonah,

I don’t think I’ve ever written you about the foundation we created in your name. Sometime after you died, we decided it wasn’t enough to cry for you. We wanted to do something that would honor who you were, keep your name around in more than just a sad way, and maybe preserve your spirit in the world a little bit.

So in your name, in your memory, in your honor … we raise money. And then we give it away. We try to support projects and organizations we think you’d have loved, you’d have supported yourself (assuming you ever decided to get a job).

Every June and December, a lot of very nice folks send dollars our way. This current campaign is called Hope Smiles. Timing is everything, of course, and we designed the campaign just prior of Omicron’s appearance. We’d wanted to celebrate our gradual emergence from the pandemic which engulfed the world twenty-one months ago. Omicron, tho we don’t yet know how dangerous it is, reminds us there is still much to fear. The economy has taken a hit. And many of us wondering if our vaccines will hold.

But hope smiles, Jo. It’s incredible what the medical community has achieved these past two years, heroic doctors and nurses risking it all and saving countless lives tending to us. That so many Americans still refuse the vaccination (87% of those with Covid right now in Michigan’s overflowing ICUs are unvaccinated) and these healers don’t just walk off their jobs? Hope smiles. That big pharma (frequently a not-so-nice term) has nearly miraculously developed the vaccines and medicines that are saving billions of lives? Hope smiles.

And it all makes me think of you. Your seemingly unceasing goodness. Your kindness. Your hopefulness. Amidst my ongoing worry about the pandemic, and you are one of the lights that help me steer my ship.

Here’s an example of what I mean. There is a persistent mystery that you left to us. It concerns a burn mark on the bathroom counter that teaches us something about hope (or so I insist upon believing). In this case, hope that you wouldn’t get caught. Here’s an excerpt from my “Fireworks” letter to you back in July 2009:

On the first floor of our house is the bathroom you shared for fourteen years with Aiden. In that bathroom there is a Formica countertop. The countertop had been there for probably a decade or more before we moved into the house in 1995, and had always been pretty much in pristine condition. Formica is fairly impervious to abuse, so the sudden appearance one evening of a prominently positioned two-inch charred hole in the countertop caught my attention. I had my suspicions as to who caused the burn mark, but felt it important to perform my fatherly due-diligence and questioned Aiden, who was maybe four or five years old at the time and, thus, not a very likely culprit. Moving on to my older son, I tried to use gentle but firm persuasion to draw the truth out of your (I was hoping) guilt-ridden soul. Wasn’t gonna happen, though. In fact, in all the years since the burn mark appeared, I never managed to get you to admit anything about it. And the fact that, in succeeding years, you amassed a collection of matchbooks, eleven Bic and/or Zippo lighters, a container of lighter fluid (!), eight boxes of sparklers, and even more boxes of incense … well, let’s just say I held out hope to one day get a confession. This past Hanukkah (Judaism’s fire holiday, always a good time to discuss arson with your child), I actually came close to connecting you to the crime when I mentioned the burn yet again and suggested that enough time had gone by, that the statute of limitations on punishment had run out, so wouldn’t you please just tell me what happened in there. You paused what you were doing, looked over at me, peering deeply into my eyes, smiled that amazing smile of yours, and then walked away. You walked away! I never did get the story of how that burn mark got there. It will remain a mystery forever.

This makes me think, JoJo, of how we – your family – have chosen to live our lives in your absence. I often tell people, “Rather than always be mourning his loss, we celebrate that we had him with us.” And while that doesn’t mean the tears have stopped falling, it does mean that we try to focus on what we loved so deeply about you. Included in that list is your perpetual hope that things would be okay, that problems can be worked out, that people can make it through hard times, and that love and an exuberant, powerful bearhug never hurts (much).

So I’ve written you a song. Okay, not for you per se, but I’ve dedicated it to you. For a specific reason. Hope. You were so good at conveying that to others, this piece just reminded me of you.

It’s called “Hope Smiles (Neilah Conclusion).” The title references its placement as the last prayer of the long day of atonement we call Yom Kippur. The ancient imagery of the Neilah service is about asking God to forgive us for all the times we’ve messed up during the past year. With sunset and the end of Yom Kippur fast approaching, we stand with great urgency before the open Ark promising to do better in the year ahead, hoping God will grant us a boon: the blessing of an inscription in the Book of Life.

In my new retirement status, I had a gig this past High Holy Days being the musical voice (rather than the rabbinic one) on the bimah and there was no way I could pull off one of the old settings of Neilah’s final prayer. So I wrote a new one.

My objective (besides being able to actually sing the piece myself) was inspired by the writing of Alfred Lord Tennyson, who penned the following: “Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, ‘It will be happier.’” I wanted to convey (because this is what I feel at the end of Yom Kippur) a confidence that the year ahead will be a good one, that each of us can do better at living our best selves, and we have every reason therefore to write ourselves into the Book of Life.

Here’s the song. It’s only a minute and a half long. It features three of me singing, plus a number of accompanying instruments.

Focus on the clarinet, Jonah. In the opening bars you’ll hear echoes of Kol Nidre, which started the Day of Atonement only twenty-four hours earlier. These opening notes remind us, I hope, that we have gathered here to sincerely prepare for a better year ahead. As the opening notes give way to the ancient words acknowledging God as God, we reaffirm a very real desire to do better with our lives, to make a difference, and to make life mean something substantially meaningful and good.

The clarinet follows along for the minute-and-a-half of this musical ride and then, in the final bars, offers its own final thought. With a jubilant flourish that some will likely frown upon, the piece ends on a celebratory note affirming that our promise to do better is not only a sincere one but one that gives reason to smile at our neighbor and to head home to that bagel and a shmear with unbridled confidence that we will make a difference, that we will, in whatever ways we can, make the world better for everyone.

Which is precisely why I’ve dedicated “Hope Smiles” to you, Jonah. This is how you lived your life: doing what you could – lending a hand, giving comfort, and simply sharing that beautiful smile of yours – to make the world in which you lived a little better for your having been here.

And what if it isn’t true? What if you had your sour moments too? What if you weren’t always there to lend a shoulder? Well, to that I have two responses:

First, in the years since you left us, so many acts of kindness have been offered because of you, in your name, and inspired by you, your impact in the universe has been exponentially increased. Maybe you weren’t a perfect angel, but you were good enough for us to want to remember you in these ways.

And second, there’s an old hasidic story I love which goes like this: The Hafetz Hayyim (Lithuania 1839-1933), renowned for his saintly character, had a student who was falsely arrested. The prosecution, hearing the Hafetz Hayyim would testify on his student’s behalf, said to his colleagues, “Do you know what they say about him? That he came home one day and, finding a thief ransacking his house, ran after him, even while he could plainly see the thief was clutching the rabbi’s possessions, and shouted, ‘I declare all of my property ownerless,’ just so the thief would not be found guilty of stealing anything.” When asked if the attorney actually believed that was true, he replied, “I’m not sure. But they don’t tell stories like that about you or me.”

In life, Jonah, you offered people hope. In death, you continue to remind us that each of us can be a force for good in the world.

And if that isn’t a hopeful conclusion, I don’t know what is. Thanks for the inspiration, boy. Keep smiling, wherever you are.

Love you forever,
Dad

P.S. How cool is it that so many people are contributing to Hope Smiles because you once walked this earth?!

As Omicron begins its chapter in the coronavirus storyline and we await its outcome as to whether or not life will continue opening up or head back into shutdown, we thought we’d share with you a few of the projects we’ve learned about that give us reason to believe that, yes, Hope Smiles.

First up: The American Indian College Fund, assisting our nation’s indigenous peoples in acquiring access to higher education. The Jonah Maccabee Foundation believes every American has a profound responsibility to acknowledge that, while we can never pay them back for injustices perpetrated through the centuries, we can do something. With only 14% of American Indians earning college degrees (less than half the national average), AICF empowers 4000 American Indian students annually to start and stay in school, complete degrees and launch careers. With admiration for their great heritage, as well as our heartfelt apology for all that they’ve lost, the foundation awards grants to the American Indian College Fund from The JMF Social Justice Fund. Their sacred labors honor us all, and Hope Smiles with every Native American we and they assist together. Visit collegefund.org to learn more.

And then: 6 Points Creative Arts Academy, a summer camp program sponsored by the Union for Reform Judaism, which means its spiritual practice is contemporary, pluralistic, and open to the vast tapestry of positive human choice and expression. Housed just outside of Philadelphia, 6 Points Creative Arts Academy uses theatre, writing, dance, music, and the visual arts to provide a summer’s worth of personal and spiritual exploration. Jonah adored the arts. He loved Jewish life. And summer camp was the only place to look for him in July and August. 6 Points Creative Arts Academy is one of those very special places where children know that Hope Smiles, which is why the foundation awards it grants from the JMF Jewish Life Fund. Learn more by visiting 6pointscreativearts.org to learn more.

Yes, we may be idealistic but we believe that’s a good thing. With organizations like the American Indian College Fund and 6 Points Creative Arts Academy out there working each day to make life better for one young person, and then one more, and still one more, hope really does smile.

Please give generously to Hope Smiles. We promise to continue helping out on your behalf.

Thank you.

We write with guarded optimism (fully vaxed and mask-enthusiastic). It’s been a sobering, wild ride since March 2020. More than 260 million have contracted Covid, and five million have died. Yet all this is punctuated by the countless acts of love and heroism which, inside and outside the medical community, have defined these two years, giving us the hope we yearned for.

Now we turn to a brighter future. Hopefully the new variants will be tamed alongside all the others, and we can resume living full, active, and interactive lives.

We’ve named our December campaign “Hope Smiles.” We’ve based it on a bit of writing from the great poet, Alfred Lord Tennyson: “Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, ‘It will be happier.’”

Perhaps not more than a whisper, but real enough. From the depths of these past two years, we may be entering 2022 seeing the light of a new day in the distance. Anticipating our gradual reemergence from our homes, from our illnesses, from our challenges and from our despairs, let us now join hands and renew our commitment to helping others, to turning love into action.

We hope that you’ll once again give generously, this time to Hope Smiles — in thanks for your own survival, and in hope for a better year ahead. We here at The Jonah Maccabee Foundation promise to continue helping out on your behalf.

You might like to know what grants we’ve awarded this year. Here we go:

• Angela Gold Music Scholarship Fund … to help raise the next generation of song leaders
• MindLeaps … working in developing countries using DANCE to improve school performance and create positive livelihoods for at-risk youth
• The Reform Movement’s Racial Justice Campaign … combating voter suppression, addressing systemic racism by demanding policy change on both a state and federal level
• 18 emergency food organizations across North America helping families get through the pandemic
• Harmony Project … an inspiring organization that provides high-quality music instruction and social support to children at no cost year ’round. Harmony Project motivates young people to cultivate their human potential
• American Indian College Fund … this was a Thanksgiving gift, supporting Native student access to higher education, assisting our nation’s indigenous peoples in building whole, healthy lives for themselves and their children
• Jewish Star … a North American talent search competition encouraging the next generation of singer-songwriters in the Jewish community
• National Diaper Network … provides basic necessities required to build the strong foundations all children, families, and individuals need to thrive and reach their full potential
• HIAS … helping settle new immigrants in the USA
• Play Group Theatre … “preparing kids for every stage in life,” PGT understands that the show isn’t what’s most important when kids do theatre. Learning collaboration, sharpening listening skills, embracing creativity, and treating one another with honor … these are what PGT is all about. We love that!
• 6 Points Creative Arts Academy … a summer camp that strives to create holistic, meaningful experiences for young artists in a living laboratory for learning and performing
• Youth Futures in Lod (Israel) … The Ramat Eshkol neighborhood of Lod, Israel, has seen far too much hate and violence. Youth Futures has established a trusting connection with the Jewish and Arab communities, providing all with emergency mental health care.

We’d be honored to have you join us in Hope Smiles, our December campaign to remember Jonah by helping make the world a little better for all.

Thank you.

These past 15 months, no matter how “hard” or “easy” any of us had it, we’ve learned a lot. Good stuff even. Our learning, you could say, has been one of the pandemic’s silver linings. To acknowledge some of those Silver Learnings, we’ve invited friends from different walks of life to share what they’ve learned from the pandemic. Our guess is you’ll hear some voices that sound like your own, and some that offer a window into a world you’ve not known but from which we can all now learn.

Laurel Dreskin is a kindergarten teacher working in Bangkok, Thailand. She moved across the world to follow her dreams to teach in Thailand. Laurel has a passion for teaching young children through hands-on learning and collaborative play. She’s Ellen and Billy’s niece.

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I found it so difficult to write this because I thought that I’m not special nor important so why would someone want to read what I have to say, but I realized that maybe if I wrote about my experience that others could find a connection in their own life.

I began my journey to Thailand in July 2019 after just finishing my undergrad in Tallahassee, Florida. I would have never expected to be living on the complete opposite side of the world far away from my family and friends, the people who mean the world to me, but this is just where my journey begins.

I’ve been living in Thailand for two years going strong but that doesn’t mean I haven’t faced challenges along the way. To the eye, I might seem like a strong and independent young woman, but on the inside I have many weaknesses too. First off, moving to a place where you know absolutely nobody and, second, the language. I did not learn Thai before moving here. Call me crazy but now. looking back. I am glad I didn’t learn how to speak the language prior to moving here.

We’re rounding third and heading for home! Please help us fund the next six months of grants by donating during these last three days of our June campaign, Silver Learnings. Your gift is what empowers us to act in Jonah’s name and do the good in the world that he might himself have done. Thank you for partnering with us to turn love into action.

Silver Learnings has brought words to us all from folks who’ve lived alongside us throughout the pandemic. They may be students, professionals, entertainers, living here or abroad, but they all have written down what they believe to be some of the lessons they’ve learned from all of this. Life has become more precious having seen so much sadness and loss. Now it’s time to lift each other up and get the world back on its feet again. Silver Learnings is our contribution to that effort.

These past 15 months, no matter how “hard” or “easy” any of us had it, we’ve learned a lot. Good stuff even. Our learning, you could say, has been one of the pandemic’s silver linings. To acknowledge some of those Silver Learnings, we’ve invited friends from different walks of life to share what they’ve learned from the pandemic. Our guess is you’ll hear some voices that sound like your own, and some that offer a window into a world you’ve not known but from which we can all now learn.

Rabbi Jeffrey Sirkman has been the spiritual leader of Larchmont Temple in Larchmont, NY, for more than thirty years. Rabbi Sirkman fosters a face-to-face faith, cherishes the gift of Torah, affirms the importance of developing a relationship with the Jewish State. He has served as Chair of the Program Advisory Committee for URJ Eisner Camp, the Admissions Committee of HUC-JIR, and teaches 5th year rabbinic and cantorial students at HUC-JIR. Ordained by HUC-JIR in 1987, he received his B.A. in Religion and his M.A. in Theology with a Certificate in Modern Jewish Thought from Boston University. Rabbi Sirkman lost his wife Susan (z”l) to cancer, is the proud father of their four wonderful children, Aaron, Alexander, Gabriel (Chelsea) and Sophie, and adores his grandson, Sawyer. He’s also Billy Dreskin’s best friend!

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As a Reform rabbi who’s spent over three decades in congregational life, I’ve often talked of renaming Reform — an insufficient descriptor for our denomination — to Punim-to-Punim [from the Yiddish, “face-to-face”] Judaism. Rabbi Larry Kushner once said, “We are a hopelessly communal people.” More precisely, I believe, we are a ridiculously relational people. Being together makes being Jewish happen. But what happens when we can’t be together?

These past 15 months, no matter how “hard” or “easy” any of us had it, we’ve learned a lot. Good stuff even. Our learning, you could say, has been one of the pandemic’s silver linings. To acknowledge some of those Silver Learnings, we’ve invited friends from different walks of life to share what they’ve learned from the pandemic. Our guess is you’ll hear some voices that sound like your own, and some that offer a window into a world you’ve not known but from which we can all now learn.

Juliet Wishner grew up in Billy’s congregation and is dedicating her life to creating social change in America and Israel/Palestine. After graduating from Ardsley High School (Ardsley, NY) she studied international studies and sociology at the University of Michigan, completing her studies in 2020. She firmly believes that through creating connections and relationships, we can form a long-lasting shared society.

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When I told people I was moving to Israel for nine-months in the midst of a global pandemic, they looked at me as if I was crazy — what on earth would convince me to do this? I am here as a part of a program called Yahel Social Change Fellowship. We work in two cities, Rishon Letzion and Lod, with marginalized communities that lack resources in many sectors.

These past 15 months, no matter how “hard” or “easy” any of us had it, we’ve learned a lot. Good stuff even. Our learning, you could say, has been one of the pandemic’s silver linings. To acknowledge some of those Silver Learnings, we’ve invited friends from different walks of life to share what they’ve learned from the pandemic. Our guess is you’ll hear some voices that sound like your own, and some that offer a window into a world you’ve not known but from which we can all now learn.

Paul Feiner has been the Town Supervisor in Greenburgh, New York, for 30 years. He’s married to attorney Sherrie Brown with whom he shares a wonderful daughter, Julia.

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During the pandemic, as Town Supervisor my major concern has been to keep services in the town operational, and to make sure that employees knew that we were concerned about them. Any employee who had major medical issues was able to work from home. To keep employees safe during the initial months of Covid, we rotated days when employees would come in. We were worried that if one person got sick everyone in the department would have to be isolated, so we kept half at home at different times.