I would be remiss to not start today’s column without taking time to reflect on the ice-pocalypse we survived last week. Northern Michigan saw a storm unlike any seen in past decades, which has resulted in many still (12 days later) living without power. As the calendar announced the arrival of spring, Mother Nature reminded us of her sheer power and lack of adherence to any man-made deadline. Snow and ice covered power lines and roads, making travel hazardous, as did the eerie sights and sounds of trees literally breaking apart. What did not fall apart was the community.

Community is indescribably key to Judaism. One popularly practiced precept is to do a “mitzvah” a day. Mitzvah literally translated from the Hebrew means “commandment” from God to be performed. I was brought up with the tradition to perform a “mitzvah” a day, or more specifically, to do a good deed a day for a stranger. The last part, that the deed must be preformed for a stranger, holds special significance to which I will later return.

Community is even commanded when meeting for public worship. In Judaism, a minyan is the quorum of 10 Jewish adults (13 and over) required for traditional public worship. The minyan symbolizes the presence of a community and its necessity to our lives. This past Saturday, for the first time in almost a full year, Temple Beth-El did have a minyan; some who came from over an hour away and/or still without power. The need for community was palatable and comforting.

This past week, Alpena and surrounding areas were true embodiments of what one hopes for when picturing a loving community. At one point (and for many days) almost EVERYONE and every service was out of power. And it was cold. And there were no estimations regarding a restoration of power. And a state of emergency was declared by the state of Michigan. Heart-warmingly inspiring, when I, somewhat reluctantly, used the few minutes of battery on my phone to check local Facebook pages, what I did NOT find was anger, outrage, indignation…not even frustration. Fear? Yes. Anxiety? For sure. However, the overwhelming statements were ones reaching out to help, to reassure, to feed, to heat unknown neighbors…strangers. Doors were simply opened for lodging and comfort, and it seems all who were able came out to offer help; whether it was helping supply meals or donating generators to those urgently in need, or simply taking time to smile at a warming station, the community did everything possible to make its residents feel less isolated and alone.

As we enter another holiday season, Passover (Pesach, meaning “Passed Over”) in Judaism and Easter in Christianity, the focus is again on family and groups coming together to celebrate tradition. Traditions are, in and of themselves, reminders that no one is truly alone, as these acts of coming together have passed down as proof that we are part of something greater than ourselves. The final night of Passover is celebrated with a 12 round / ritual meal (that includes four glasses of wine) called a “Seder” (which means order) that retells the journey of Jews from slavery to freedom as found in Exodus. Some would argue that Passover (the first Pesach) was the birth of what it means to be Jewish today.

Pesach is also a holiday of spring; of renewal. A time to grow again. A reminder that freedom must be collective or it is not freedom at all. The necessity to be just and kind and to love the stranger. The command to be open to the stranger occurs 36 times in the Torah as emphasis of its importance. Therefore, it is not surprising that non-Jews are always invited and openly embraced at Seders to come and share our traditions as, ultimately, we are all “mishpocha” (family).

The end of the Seder includes my favorite tradition (and not ONLY because it signals the end is near…Seders go on and on and on…), the end is marked by the opening of the door to the home with the hope that Elijah will announce that the Messiah has appeared. Alas, to open a door to a stranger, as a reminder that we know uncomfortably well what it feels to be the stranger. When I was young, it was my favorite time because it was so filled with positive energy, I found myself imbued with hope. As I’ve grown older, it has gotten harder to believe, even for just a minute, in hope…This year it will not be difficult at all. The kindness of strangers has, indeed, sparked hope in this somewhat cynical heart.

Happy holidays to all.

Written by Monika Ehrlich, and originally appeared in The Alpena News “Everyday Faith” column:
https://www.thealpenanews.com/opinion/editorials-and-columns/2025/04/holidays-of-spring/ 4/12/25

“Never forget …”

Yet, it seems many Americans have done just that.

Jan. 27, 1945, is the date that Soviet troops liberated Birkenau and Auschwitz concentration camps in Poland. On Nov. 1, 2005, Resolution 60/7 was adopted by the United Nations General Assembly to establish the 27th of January as International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

This past Monday marked the 80th anniversary of the liberation, and what many predict will be the last major milestone anniversary with many survivors present, a likely scenario considering the age of the few survivors remaining.

As the survivors’ voices perish, it is feared that the lessons learned/stories of the Shoah (Hebrew term that literally means “catastrophe,” which is used in place of the term “Holocaust”) will be either forgotten — or, even worse, denied.

In 2020, the results of the first known 50-state survey on knowledge of the Holocaust of American Millennials and Gen Z (people ages 18 to 39) were unsettling, to say the least. To be more precise, the findings are startling and gut-wrenching.

The survey found the following:

∫ (Only) 90% believe the Holocaust happened

∫ 63% were unaware that 6 million Jews were killed

∫ 48% of respondents could not name one single concentration camp

∫ 20% believe that Jews caused the Holocaust

(Source: NBC News, Sept. 16, 2020)

And those results are now four years old.

On Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas terrorists attacked Israel and waged the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust. Ultimately, 1,200 Israelis were murdered by Hamas, and 251 civilians (including the elderly, women, and children) were taken hostage. As of this writing, more than 15 months after the deadly rampage, Israel believes 87 hostages are still being held, 53 of whom are believed to be alive (the New York Times).

I remember watching the news break on that Saturday morning in disbelief.

My first reaction was horror and disbelief, followed closely by an unsettling feeling of what it would mean for Jewish communities all over the world. What I did not envisage was the disquieting surge of antisemitism in America.

Antisemitism is a word that has proven itself to be hard to precisely define. However, as of May 26, 2016, the U.S. Department of State has adopted the following working definition: “Antisemitism is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.”

On the U.S. Department of State’s website, there are 11 “contemporary examples of antisemitism in public life” that include, “Making mendacious, dehumanizing, demonizing, or stereotypical allegations about Jews as such or the power of Jews as collective — such as, especially but not exclusively, the myth about a world Jewish conspiracy or of Jews controlling the media, economy, government or other societal institutions.”

The last lines on the State Department’s website regarding antisemitism is the unequivocal statement that, “Antisemitic acts are criminal when they are so defined by law.”

Strikingly significant in the contemporary acts of antisemitism as laid out by the State Department is “denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, e.g., by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavor,” and, “Calling for, aiding, or justifying the killing or harming Jews in the name of a radical ideology or an extremist view of religion.”

What makes those two examples notable is that those were statements heard on many college campuses across the United States after the Oct. 7 attacks. Mass demonstrations of students condemning Jewish students were held on campuses across the country, which included chants and signs promoting the “from the River to the Sea” agenda, which is the rallying cry for anti-Israeli contingents that seek Israel’s total destruction through violent means.

Many Jewish students were forcibly kept from attending classes/events, and many decided to leave campus completely. According to the Anti-Defamation League, more than 13% of Jewish college students in 2024 withdrew from campus and social activities (as compared to only 2% of non-Jewish students reporting the same), 83% of Jewish college students in America have faced some form of antisemitism, 41% felt the need to hide their Jewish identity, and one in four were compelled to take security precautions.

Finally, and perhaps most profoundly disconcerting, according to the 2023 Audit of Antisemitic Incidents, there were 8,873 antisemitic incidents in the US (up 400% from 2022).

I wholeheartedly believe that a large percentage of antisemitism comes from a lack of education/ignorance, not simply hatred.

It is incumbent on us who do understand the important lessons from history to educate — not to hide.

As Elis Wiesel, Holocaust survivor and Nobel laureate asserted, “To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.”

It is said that those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. I fear we are not stepping into a future haunted by history.

In spite of my fears, I hold onto the perhaps naive hope that we all believe what Anne Frank wrote in her famous diary on July 15, 1944: “I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.”

Shalom.

Written by Monika Ehrlich, and originally appeared in The Alpena News “Everyday Faith” column:
https://www.thealpenanews.com/opinion/editorials-and-columns/2025/02/never-forget/ 2/1/25

Happy Hanukkah!

Merry Christmas!

Oh! Happy New Year!

In essence, happy holidays to all who celebrate this time of year.

Some are put off by the term, “happy holidays,” as it can be construed to mean the negation of a singular holiday/tradition — or worse, can be received as one degrading and/or demeaning the sacred value of these times held by much of the American population.

I would like to offer an alternative understanding of why many use the term, “happy holidays,” and to fiercely assert that I — and my guess is most others who practice multiple traditions to mark the end of the year/start of a new year — are not AT ALL ever insulted when wished a “merry” or “happy” anything, at any time time in our lives.

Instead, what a gift it is to be able to come together as human beings, as Americans, at one time, EVERY year, and offer good wishes to one another.

Seeing as Hannukah’s start this year nicely coincides with the celebration of Christmas (the 25th/26th) it’s apropos to shine a light on how much of what is celebrated in both of those ancient traditions is shared.

I had the at the time “unique” (therefore “weird”) home situation of growing up in two incomprehensibly different home environments. I was one of the early latch-key kids of divorced parents, which, in itself, was an oddity at the time.

Additionally, my mom was Catholic, living in Flint, and my dad was Jewish, living in Ann Arbor.

I didn’t have one single person I knew who had the same family arrangement.

When my mom and dad got married in 1973, they had inscribed on the front of their wedding invitations a Star of David with a cross in the middle — which, at that time, was simply unheard of (and, I’d hazard to guess, is still quite limited in use).

How could two people agree to unite forever with two different religions?

Not surprisingly, once I was born a year later, my mom was most asked, “How will you raise Monika in both traditions? How will she know what to believe?,” to which she simply responded, “I don’t know, but I most hope she will be open to believing in believing.”

And to that end, her hope has been realized.

What I love most about this time of the year is to see so many people allow themselves to believe in miracles, magic, love, and tradition. From secretly spying the most curmudgeonly old man — who only ever grumbles in reply when someone tells him hello — secretly stringing lights on Main Street after dark, when he thinks no one is watching, to the most angst-filled, unimpressed-by-anything teenager swiftly strewing presents under a Salvation Army tree that she bought with her hard-earned babysitting money for children who otherwise would not have a reason this year to celebrate.

Celebrate.

That is what we all strive to do at this time of the year.

On Dec. 25, Christian religions celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, the Savior, truly a monumental and sacred cornerstone of the faith.

Hanukkah is the Jewish eight-day, wintertime “festival of lights” and commemorates the rededication of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem (circa 164 BCE) and is a beloved and joyous holiday. The number of days has been ascribed to be eight because of the miraculous small amount of oil that burned for eight days. (Oh, and by the way, insiders note: The question I get most asked — still, as an adult — when asked about Hanukkah is whether we really get EIGHT gifts; sure, if you count shoelaces and pencils as two separate gifts; it’s kinda like Christmas; you get one or two gifts and then you get necessities and oddities; see, another similarity).

This time of the year is steeped in tradition and belief, most certainly. However, in practice, in the 21st century, if one were to ask 100 Americans what “the holidays” mean to him/her, it would be surprising to find many answers that did not include the word “family.”

THAT is what is held in common: What we all celebrate (if we are lucky enough to be able to do so) is to be part of something larger than ourselves, to love and to be loved, to be dedicated to one another.

Therefore, as I do love how much the history of words can reveal meaning, one more lesson: The word “Chanukah” (Hanukkah in Hebrew) means “dedication.” To what, we fill in the blank.

As I write this from my cousin’s beautiful home in Bonita Springs, Florida, with whom I am fortunate for the first time to share this Christmas and Hanukkah, I dedicate myself to trying to make all who believe feel seen and appreciated.

Written by Monika Ehrlich, and originally appeared in The Alpena News “Everyday Faith” column:
https://www.thealpenanews.com/opinion/editorials-and-columns/2024/12/happy-holidays/ 12/28/24

Hello!

For many, if the term “shalom” is recognizable, it is known as a Jewish greeting, similar to saying “aloha” when in Hawaii.

Which it is.

Sometimes, it is understood as a term one says when leaving a friend or situation, an alternative for “goodbye.”

Which it is.

Others may rightly assert that it means “peace.”

Which, again, it does.

It means all of that and all of that means so much more, but let me start with “hello” and “peace.”

Being a still-new member of the Alpena community, let me provide a bit of my background/credentials for writing.

I have spent the majority of my adult life teaching English/literature/communications for the University of Michigan-Flint and Kettering University in Flint.

My time living in Alpena started in 2022. However, Alpena was not new to me. My mom was from Alpena, so I spent holidays visiting and so wishing I did live in Alpena.

When the chance arose, I took the leap to live my childhood dream, to live in a place of peace, and move to Alpena. Every day, I am thankful for making the move from Flint into this community.

In addition to having family and roots, I was always fascinated with what a rich tapestry Alpena has in not only Michigan history, but, indeed, Jewish history.

Temple Beth-El in Alpena is a historical building dating back to 1875, and is recognized as one of the oldest temples in the state of Michigan. When Julius Myers instituted Alpena’s Hebrew Benevolent Society, by 1887, there were an estimated some 45 Jewish adults residing in Alpena.

The history of Jewish community is certainly fascinating, but even more astonishing is that the temple still holds services — as do so many various religions — openly and peacefully — in one small town. In our current time of division, finding a place of wholeness (another definition of the word “shalom”) is truly a gift.

To be fair, one could say that, just because we have a community that doesn’t NOT allow groups from various religious practices — which is not true in all communities — that does not mean that all groups work “as a whole” or in unity, which is an important distinction to make. Also, to be fair, there is a guard at Temple Beth-El during services, which does not exactly shout “peace” or “wholeness.”

Instead, unfortunately, the need for a security presence speaks more to our time than to our community. It would be naive to not be aware of the growing antisemitism in America and the world, so taking precautions is, sadly, needed at many temples across the United States, and we are no exception.

As many of us are searching for places where we feel at “peace,” or places to make us feel “whole,” Alpena is offering outreach opportunities beyond what many are providing.

One such group actually meeting to discuss avenues to reach out to the public to bring about peace in our community is the Alpena Peace Community.

On Oct. 27, the Alpena Peace Community, along with Temple-Beth El and Grace Lutheran Church, hosted a peace event that featured a conversation between Pastor Tom Orth and Rabbi Howard Morrison.

The two-hour-long event consisted of two presentations and a short question-and-answer period. The theme of Part I was titled, “Jewish and Christian Overviews,” and Part II was organized around the theme of “Challenges in Contemporary Times.”

I was able to attend the event and found it gave me hope.

Attendance by more people than I expected (I’d estimate at least 40) on a Sunday evening in October was my first spark of hope.

To fully realize that folks of all ages and religious backgrounds took precious time out of their too-scheduled lives to come hear how we can work for peace, that was the second spark.

Sparks alone are not always enough, which is where the speakers enter into the equation. Both the pastor and the rabbi spoke with passion and honesty on a variety of topics, ranging from the then-upcoming election to the controversial — therefore often avoided — issues of abortion and the current war taking place in the Middle East.

And they did not agree.

They took time to acknowledge one another’s position AND took just as much time to explain that, just because they have differences, they are still friends. They made clear that there is more that unites us than ever divides us.

They are examples of two people who agree on so many levels and respect each other as individuals enough that they not only listen but do so with an open mind and heart.

I’d argue that doing the work of having the hard conversations is a foundation of finding peace and wholeness, and the pastor, the rabbi and all those who attended are, indeed, doing the work for peace.

Lastly, another interpretation of the word “wholeness” is “a state of being that is active and can be brought about by working to repair what is broken.”

That being said, I’d argue that Alpena is a community that is doing that work, and, for that, I am grateful.

Shalom.

Written by Monika Ehrlich, and originally appeared in The Alpena News “Everyday Faith” column:
https://www.thealpenanews.com/opinion/editorials-and-columns/2024/11/shalom-hello/ 11/23/24