I often wonder if the people filled with Jew-Hatred even know what antisemitism means. It’s difficult for me to understand how educated people can harbor hatred toward a religion or ethnicity. In truth, I struggle to understand any form of bigotry. Every individual is unique, and painting them in a swath of the same color seems both absurd and dangerous.

Merriam-Webster defines antisemitism as “hostility toward or discrimination against Jews as a religious, ethnic, or racial group.”

To me, the word antisemitism softens the reality. It rolls off the tongue, sounding so much nicer than Jew-Hatred.

Antisemitism is insidious, as it sneaks into the bowels of society. Jew-Hatred exposes the ugliness of what it truly is.

Rosh Hashanah, like Shabbat, reminds us to pause. Judaism wisely builds rest and reflection into our lives. While we spend our days racing to accomplish what seems impossible, Shabbat compels us to stop, breathe, and reconnect with those we love. Every week, it reminds us to keep our priorities clear and honor loved ones with our time.

I have to say, since our guru-like rabbi has moved on to another congregation, I was apprehensive as to what our Holy days would be like. I shouldn’t have worried. It was filled with spirit, love, and education — what more could anyone ask?

Rabbi-Cantor Marcia Tilchin came prepared with her beautiful voice and a 9/11 commemoration that brought tears to my eyes.

It’s been 25 years since 9/11. Somehow it seems fitting for Rosh Hashanah to start on 9/11/2026; our people have suffered throughout our existence. Listening to Rabbi Marcia’s personal story of 9/11 and her recounting of some of the last calls from people that tragic day, thankfully, I had tissues in my purse. I visited the 9/11 memorial last year and wrote my Times of Israel Blog, 9/11/2025: A Living Symbol of Resilience, Rebirth, and Remembrance. Yet another memorial of lives lost.

Rabbi Marcia brought her friends along. Rav (means teacher, which he prefers, although he is a rabbi) Shai Cherry interjected his wisdom throughout the services and shared his “Prayer for Our Country and Our World,” which is so sorely needed. Musical friends included Jason Feddy on guitar and Ron Levy on piano. And lest I forget our friend Evan Wohl and my husband, Lonnie, on their djembes. As soon as the drums get going, the spirit of the congregation lifts, the smiles come out, we can’t help but move with the beat, and some just had to dance in the back of the sanctuary.

Jason Feddy is a very accomplished singer/songwriter, has written music for theatre, film, and TV, and has opened for Neil Young, Tears for Fears, and Joe Cocker. This year, Rabbi Marcia asked Jason to write a song for Israel. He conceded that given the topic, there might be room for controversy. He prefaced the song stating that, “my Zionist credentials are not in question,” and my ears perked up. He said he studied the traditional prayers for Israel and bemoaned that it would be impossible, as he might “offend half the crowd.” He came armed with the lyrics, but said he was writing the music as he went. He continued, “We all love Israel, we wish good things for Israel, we just are in a pickle right now.” The song he wrote is called “Amen, Sela,” which is also the chorus that he taught us to sing along with. Pause in Hebrew is סֶלַע (sela). I’m always amazed by the talent of some people, sure show up with the words and improvise the tune — creative audacity at its best. “Amen, Sela,” is a cry out for Peace and redemption during these times. Amen. Yes, I definitely was where I was supposed to be.

Another highlight was meeting our new interim rabbi, Rabbi Michael Weinstein. His sermon was one of the most timely and learned I have ever heard. It is sorely needed during these times, and his teachings shot straight to my heart.

Having moved to the area three months ago, he lives in a huge apartment complex, dwelling “with 800 of his closest new friends.” He bemoaned that the quintessential mezuzah was still missing from his front door. Why? Like so many of us Jews, he’s scared — an uncomfortable feeling for a rabbi on Rosh Hashana. What if one of those 800 turns out to be a Jew-hater? Was he in danger? He said he felt embarrassed, but it was true, like so many of us as Jews in 2026 in the U.S., and throughout the world........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)