Over Shabbat, I often think about what to write in my newsletter. But sometimes, by the time I sit down to write at the beginning of the week, I feel I need to write about something else. This is often the case in our turbulent life in a crisis zone where the speed of events often overtakes one's plans

Unfortunately, we are at a time where one crisis follows another. I have been following with horror the wildfires in Los Angeles as they have devoured life and precious property, irreplaceable keepsakes that carry memories of personal and family histories. As I witnessed these terrifying threats to safety and normalcy, nothing was more important than to send strength and love to our friends in LA.

IRAC has so many friends and supporters in the United States and all over the world. You are our extended family. When you are in pain, we feel it too.

I visited LA on my last trip to the US, just a few months ago in September. I was once again struck by the vibrant and dedicated community there. I had the great pleasure to meet with so many inspiring rabbis and congregants from the area who devote so much time to their communities, yet who also warmly embraced me and expressed enthusiastic support for our work here. And as always, it was an opportunity to reminisce about the year I spent in LA in 2009-2010, and to renew personal friendships and acquaintances in a city that feels a bit like home. How could I not be devastated in the face of so much destruction in places I know and love, and at the sight of people fleeing their homes, many knowing that when they return, little to nothing will be left?

I was heartbroken to read of the century-old Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center that was completely burned down, and about the Kehillat Israel synagogue, which miraculously remained intact while all three rabbis lost their homes along with the homes of hundreds of congregants. Yet the beautiful post by Rabbi Paul Kipnes of Congregation Or Ami in the Times of Israel, describing how he sats with congregants who lost everything, gave me some comfort. :

What wisdom could I offer the couple who lost their new home and everything in it? As I sat with them, I questioned whether anything I could say would matter. So instead of filling the space with words, I listened. I gave them permission to mourn — mourning the zecher (remembrances) of their lives: the mementos that reflected their love, the memories of raising their three remarkable children, the sense of safety that was taken so abruptly. I reminded them that their choice to protect life — l’chaim! — was an act of profound Jewish faith.

When I speak abroad, people often ask me how can we help? or what can we do?  I often reply that simply knowing that so many people stand with us helps us go on. That sympathy and solidarity are enormous gifts.

So, I want to tell you, my dear LA friends, that we are with you. I want you to know that you are seen. I want you to feel that you are heard all the way over here, even if you are struck speechless in the midst of this disaster. We are thinking of you and praying for you. We believe in your resilience. We have confidence in your unbounded capacity to overcome this tragedy, as Jews have overcome so many hardships in our history. The memory of our forbears' stubborn talent for survival is our heritage and a source of strength, as are our traditions of reaching out to one another, even when that's all we can offer one another. Kol yisrael arevim zeh bazeh – all of Israel are responsible for one another – at times of peace and at times of challenge.

Stay safe. Take care.
Hazak ve'amatz, my friends. Be strong and courageous.

Orly Erez-Likhovski
 

As we partner together in such difficult times your continued support and partnership means the world to us. You can support our work through an annual or monthly donation or by arranging an event to share our work with your community.