In this week’s portion, Naso, we find the language Aaron was instructed to use when blessing the Israelite nation:

יְבָרֶכְךָ  יְהוָה  וְיִשְׁמְרֶךָ

(Y’-va-re-ch’-cha A-do-nai v’-yish-m’-reh-cha)

May God bless you and guard you;

יָאֵר יְהוָה פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ וִיחֻנֶּךָּ

(Ya-eir A-do-nai pa-nav ei-leh-cha vi-chu-neh-kah)

May God make God’s face shine upon you and be gracious unto you;

יִשָּׂא יְהוָה פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ וְיָשֵׂם לְךָ שָׁלוֹם.

(Yi-sah A-do-nai pa-nav ei-leh-cha v’-ya-seim l’-cha sha-lom.)

May God lift up God’s face unto you, and give you peace. 

[Numbers 6:24–26]

We find this blessing still being used regularly today.  For example, this is the blessing traditionally offered by parents to their children at the Shabbat dinner table on Friday nights.  It is often recited for a bride right before her wedding, and sometimes under the chupah as well for both bride and groom.  It is part of the standard repetition to the Amidah, and thus for many years has been recited (or at least heard) by observant Jews on a daily basis.

Is the blessing one that is familiar to you? 

If not, what are your initial reactions to it?

If so, does it hold any meaning or power?

Perhaps the power of the blessing comes less from the words themselves, and more from the fact that we know Jews have been offering this blessing to one another for over 2,500 years?  For me, knowing that the words being offered are the same as those my ancient ancestors used and received is quite moving, even if theologically I’m not quite sure that those are the words I’d come up with if tasked with crafting a blessing to offer to my children in the future.

What is the value of offering a blessing today?  Do we believe that blessings really contain any sort of power?

On a metaphysical level, many would argue that a blessing is a form of putting positive energy out into the universe.

On a more practical level, I know that before I proposed to my fiancée, I made sure to ask her parents for their blessing…

If asked to compose the words that you would use to bless your children, what would they be and why?

How do they compare to the blessing we’ve inherited from our ancestors?

This Shabbat, reflect on the power of blessings – both in form and function.  Be in awe of just how far back in history some of our blessings go.  Resolve to explore meaningful ways to incorporate and when necessary, to create, blessings that speak to you today.

Last year, while volunteering on MASA Israel Journey—Israel experiential programs sponsored in part by the Jewish Federation of Metropolitan Chicago—in South Tel Aviv, I met an extraordinary friend named Guy. I volunteered with the African refugee community at the African Refugee Development Center (ARDC), a non-profit that helps refugees reach basic social services in Israel. Guy translated for me while I interviewed refugees for their visa applications and *UNHCR resettlement.

Guy is a young man from Darfur who lost his family in the genocide and fled to Israel. Each day, Guy told me his dream was to move to the United States and study at a college. Guy achieved his dream and in December he flew to the US on a student visa. This did not come easily, however. He worked hard and had the courage to ask for help from his friends around the world.

Guy, a Sudanese refugee, and Tamar, an associate with JUF Missions.

Guy recently started school at the College of Lake County in Grayslake, Illinois, through a program at their Center for International Education. I’m sponsoring Guy in Chicago along with a Maya Paley, director of Community Engagement and Special Programs at the National Council of Jewish Women.

Most people ask me about my motivations in helping Guy since I’m young, removed from what’s happening in Israel, and living in Chicago. To be honest, I never saw it as an option to NOT help him. He may come from a completely different background than me—Sudanese, Christian, poor, and traumatized—but he became a very close friend who needed my support.

Guy arrived in the middle of winter with only warm-weather clothes. So, what was my response? Take action. I immediately contacted friends and family across the country to help me with clothing donations. I helped him get acclimated to Chicago (Guy’s first El ride was a loud and crowded experience) and helped him get situated financially.

My Jewish upbringing has given me the moral foundation for sponsoring Guy. Thanks to my parents, who’ve instilled in me the importance of gemilut chasadim, or acts of loving kindness, I’ve always had a passion for helping others. I grew up in a close-knit Jewish community in Milwaukee. My dad is Israeli so we always had Israeli family and friends stay at our home for long periods of time. I grew up sharing everything with my siblings, and we all leaned on each other for help. Throughout high school and college, I participated in B’nai B’rith Youth Organization (BBYO) and the UW-Madison Hillel respectively, which both focus on Jewish leadership, community service and tikkun olam.

After volunteering in Israel with the African refugee community, I settled in Chicago and found a job in the best place for Jewish communal work and charitable giving—the Jewish United Fund. I also spend my Sunday mornings teaching religious school to senior kindergarteners at Chicago’s Anshe Emet Synagogue.

These experiences and positions have grounded my Jewish identity and me. I believe in tzedakah, doing the right thing, giving back, and helping those who are struggling.

Guy came to my doorstep in January and I have not given up trying to help him. The Jewish community I’ve created for myself throughout the years, filled with family, friends and colleagues, have given me the strength and courage to help Guy. He is an amazing person—forthcoming, inspiring and gentle. He speaks highly of Israel—despite the hardships for the African refugee community—and the safety he found there. Some days I’m overwhelmed by the amount of responsibility in sponsoring Guy, but I remind myself that I’m doing the right thing by helping this remarkable person.

Like some of my family who survived the Holocaust, Guy is a survivor of the Darfur genocide and I’m grateful to have him in my life.

Read Guy's story here.

For more information on Guy’s story, email me at tshertok@gmail.com.

Masa Israel Journey is a joint project of the Government of Israel, the Jewish Agency for Israel and its partners, the Jewish Federations of North America, and Keren Hayesod-UJA.

*UNHCR stands for The Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.

Tamar Shertok is an associate in the Missions department of the Jewish United Fund/Jewish Federation of Metropolitan Chicago.

Guy survived the Darfur genocide and found refuge in Israel.

What I have been through is not something one can ever forget. I come from a very poor family, but I believe I have a future: I want to help my people and make Darfur a safer and better place for all people from that region of Sudan. It was my dream to study since I was kid, but I have faced many challenges along the way. I survived the genocide in Darfur.

I came to the United States as a student both because I wanted to study and because I needed a safe place to do so. I was born in 1986 in a village called Mara in Darfur with the name Abdelhamid Yousif Ismail Adem. I am the second of four brothers and three sisters. I recently discovered that one of my brothers is alive, but I do not know whether the rest are alive today. After seeing people being killed in the name of religion, I converted from Islam to Christianity. With this change, I decided to change my name to Guy [JOSIF].

My parents were farmers who cultivated fruits like citrus. We owned cows, goats, sheep, horses, and camels. We were self-reliant. There were around 2,000 people in our village; all of us were farmers. Before the genocide happened I used to help my father and mother in the farm when I returned from school. Unfortunately, I had to stop attending school after grade six. My parents could not afford the fees.

In 2003 our lives changed indefinitely. The war broke out in Darfur and my village was looted and burned. We remained with nothing. One afternoon in August, 2003 we were having tea together and my brothers were playing in front of us. Suddenly nine people with Sudanese military uniforms came into our compound and started beating us. Our village was attacked by around 200 members of the Janjaweed. They came on foot, horse, camels, and cars with machine guns and Kalashnikovs, shooting at every human being in sight. They burned all the houses in our village and took the cattle. I got a chance to escape, but never saw my family again.

While running I met some people from the UN Mine Action office and they stopped and asked me where I was going. I told them that my village was burned and that I left my family there. I told them I was not sure if the villagers survived. I was afraid. I stayed with them while they hid me in their car and went to my village. They saw that everyone was killed and they could not find my family. They took me to their main office in Khartoum where I started working with them as a security guard. There was one man who supported me to go to the Evangelical school in the evenings. I studied from class one up to class four. I continued to the Young Men’s Christian Association Centre then to Abraham Higher School in Bahre where I sat for my high school examination and succeeded.

I began studying at Juba University, Khartoum. After one month, the government created a plan to arrest, imprison, and torture the students from Darfur or South Sudan. Some of my good friends were killed. I was arrested for three months and put in prison, tortured, and beaten. They asked me what I was doing working with the UN. I was released and arrested again and again. The man who had helped me from the UN wrote in the newspaper that he had helped a displaced person from Darfur who had no family. In the article he explained that I was arrested a few times and that bad things had happened to me and he requested my release. The security men released me and told me that I had one week to leave Sudan.

I traveled to Egypt by train where I spent one month before finding people to help me get to Israel. In the evening we were taken by a small bus to a Bedouin camp where I stayed for nine days. We were 23 people from Darfur and Eritrea. Thirteen got killed in front of our eyes; only ten survived and arrived in Israel. The Egyptian border patrol shoots at people randomly. People arrive in Israel with bullet wounds, families are separated at the border, and others lose their lives there.

After all this, I was looking for a place where I can be safe to study and do something for future generations. My dream is that with an education I can create change. Education is the key to life, but in Israel it was too hard to go to school. I was accepted to the College of Lake County in Grayslake, Illinois and have been studying there since January, 2013.

Here in the United States, I can get the education I need to help my people back in Darfur.

Read a story by Guy's sponsor here.

First, you are a kid, and you experience the Jewish holidays on that level: costumes and graggers on Purim, The Four Questions and afikomen gifts at the Passover Seder, and dreidels and latkes (and more gifts) at Chanukah.

Then you go to high school, and want nothing to do with anything child-related. Then you go to college, and major in cynicism with a minor in irony… and want may have nothing to do with anything religion-related.

Later, you have a kid and begin to revisit the holidays, trying to re-create the fond memories from your own childhood… or create new, positive ones. But once again, you are relating to the holidays on a child’s level— and then on a grandchild’s level.

The result? At no point have you had— or taken— the opportunity to explore the highlights of the Jewish calendar as an adult. This is a sad, but preventable, situation.

Each of the Jewish holidays has a historical lesson and a deep, metaphysical meaning. They relate to seasons of the Earth and seasons of the soul. They connect the ancient stories of defeat and victory with the struggles we fight today. They are set aside for introspection and celebration, for connecting with family and community, but also reconnecting with ourselves.

I went to a talk before Purim one year. The rabbi spoke movingly about Esther’s struggle against discrimination— as a woman and as a Jew. It really made me wonder what else there might be, hiding behind the paper-plate masks of my childhood view of the holidays.

Now, I love my kids, nieces, and nephews, and I love having the Seder with them every year. But part of me has longed to go to a Seder for grown-ups, which is why I was really glad to attend the Downtown Seder this year at City Winery.

I am writing this now because it is time for Shavuot. One reason this holiday— which celebrates the receiving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai, no less— is under-appreciated is its lack of well-known rituals. There is no shofar to sound, no matzah to break, no menorah to light.

But lesser-known that they may be, Shavuot does have its practices, including eating dairy foods, decorating the synagogue with greenery and staying up all night studying. This practice is called “Tikkun Leil Shavuot.”

And this year, it will once again be held at Anshe Emet Synagogue from late May 14 to early May 15, and all are invited. The evening begins with a panel of rabbis from across the Jewish denominational spectrum, with a time for questions afterward. Then, community scholars host a selection of discussion groups— a new set every hour— until sunrise, with snacks and coffee available to help you stay awake! The event concludes with a walk to Lake Michigan, and morning prayers said by the light of the sun rising over the water. If you have never been to a Tikkun, I urge you to go. If you have, then you will no doubt be back, and I will see you there.

While enjoying the holidays and passing them on are important activities, we also need to drop the dreidels once in a while and study the meaning and lessons of the holidays on an adult level. We must wrest the holidays from the sticky hands of our kids. If we don’t, we risk seeing Judaism itself as merely childish.

And so, fellow grown-ups, let us reclaim the Jewish holidays. The Downtown Seder, Tikkun Leil Shavuot, the Latke-Hamentash Debate, and even Beef and Bourbon in the Sukkah are great, but only the start. So below, let’s start talking about how else we can study, honor, and celebrate our Jewish holidays— like adults.

A couple months ago I wrote about "pushing the fashion envelope" and taking risks with personal style. This post is meant to be a slight addendum to that one.

I agree with all that I said back in February, and I definitely think taking fashion risks is empowering, but since writing that post, I have reflected more on my personal style. I have realized that there's a uniform quality to it, and actually, I’m learning to really embrace it. I’m proud of how I express myself through fashion and what makes me comfortable in the work place and in the rest of my life.

I’ve realized when I was younger, especially in college, I had a lot of mental space to devote to constructing one-of-a-kind outfits in my head and spending significant time in the mornings putting it all together. This was more or less a hobby of mine but, alas, cannot be right now. I have a lot swirling around in my 28-year-old world here in the city and my reality is that I do not have a lot of time I can devote to coming up with the perfect outfit day after day after day. I need easy, chic and simple pieces at the ready to mix and match and throw on, allowing me to easily construct an appealing outfit in a short period of time. I may not wear the most revolutionary, perfectly orchestrated combinations of clothes and accessories every day, but my ensembles are chic and effortless, and multi-purpose—transitioning nicely from day to night.

When I wrote my last post, I was struggling with accepting how my life has evolved and impacted my fashion choices. But since then, I have embraced my current reality and have actually given myself a pat on the back. I’ve learned how to manipulate fashion into something quick, simple, but still very chic, and I’ve set this system on re-peat for day-to-day dressing ease.

Ladies, below I have listed things I’ve learned women need to invest in for effortless, chic style throughout any season. Add to these items a few trendy accessories and you will never have to stress about how you’re going to look if you oversleep and have a half-hour to get out the door for a packed day of work and social commitments.

- Silk blouses in a variety of colors
- Pearl earrings
- The perfect, go-anywhere skinny jeans
- One-to-two pair(s) of neutral and very comfortable ballet flats
- A statement watch
- A classic durable hand bag like a Longchamp Le Pliage tote
- Wide-leg, light weight trousers
- A pair of nude pumps
- A well-cut vest you can wear instead of a jacket during transitional weather, or in the winter as a layer or in the summer with a tank.
- A classic trench coat

Even if the items I have listed above do not fit your personal style, what I have learned and can really apply to anyone’s life and personal style: embrace who you are and figure out how to fit fashion into your life; do not worry about how to fit your life into fashion.

Follow Michelle on Twitter @mrweilstyle

It’s very weird sitting down to write this blog post for Oy!. For one thing, I’m not writing from my office, instead I’m at home sitting on my bed with my dog (who is barking) by my side and writing from my personal laptop. And for another, I’m not your managing blogger anymore. I’m experiencing some writers block, but I know I have to produce something because otherwise I’m one of my bloggers who I’ve spent the last five years yelling at (not really) for not turning their posts in on time!

I've been thinking a lot about what I want to write for Oy! post my career at JUF and Oy!Chicago.

Do I write about my new job?

It's good. I'm starting to feel settled in my new roles. And my lovely seatmates have figured out I talk a lot— mostly to myself— and they still seem to like me.

Or do I write about what it’s been like to return to the corporate world after spending the majority of my 20s at a non-profit?

It’s a change for sure— obviously. There is a big difference between working at a quickly growing company at the forefront of its industry and a century-old non-profit.

I could probably write a whole blog post about how my personal Jewish community has reacted to the news of my leaving JUF.

What I want to write about is how I’m making plans to stay involved in the Jewish community. But how am I? Well, I’m really still trying to figure that out.

One of the deals I made with myself— and my former co-workers— when I left was that I’d stay involved as a lay leader. I guess you could argue this blog post is a start at that, but so far I haven’t really given much thought (or action) to my ongoing involvement. I do want to sit on the other side of the fence and use my knowledge from my professional days to make a difference.

But how?

Do I join a JUF board or committee? YLD seemed like a natural fit, as does the newly formed Birthright Committee spearheaded by one of my favorite JUF people, Elizabeth "JUF" Wyner.

Or do I go back to my college roots (I majored in politics and history) and try and get involved in our wonderful Jewish Community Relations Council? Maybe do some Jewish advocacy work?

How about a JUF-supported agency? Jewish Child and Family Services or SHALVA both definitely interest me. That would be something relatively new, but also still within the fold.

Or do I do something really removed from the JUF world? And go volunteer for ADL? Or NECHAMA?    

So many options. So many opportunities. Where do I start?

Clearly I need to spend some more time adjusting to my new reality before I make any decisions. I still feel too much like a Jewish communal professional to really move on as a lay leader. But at least by publically stating my intent here, I’ve taken that first step.

And if anyone has any advice or suggestions, I’d gladly like to hear them.

I know this has been a post of many questions and not much else. But that’s where my brain is at right now. Hopefully, I’ll have more to say next month, but for now, I’m signing off, Oy!sters. 

Around the country, Jewish basketball is growing rapidly with tournaments, the Maccabiah Games and even websites such as Jewish Hoops America and Jewish Coaches. But while high school and even the college ranks continue to grow, the last few years in the NBA that brought us hope for sustained Jewish basketball on a professional level have quickly evaporated.

A few years back, there was a resurgence of Jewish NBA talks. First was the emergence of Omri Casspi, the first Israeli-born athlete to play in the NBA. Right behind him was Lior Eliyahu, who had been drafted earlier and had his rights traded in hope to land on a roster. Graduating from college were NCAA champion Jon Scheyer and Virginia standout Sylven Landesberg, both who were promising second round (potential first round) picks. David Stern stood atop the NBA totem pole as the commissioner; Lawrence Frank was given a second chance as a head coach in Detroit and Larry Brown was with the Bobcats. Plus, we had a bona fide player with staying power in Jordan Farmar. This on top of several NBA players who had gone to Israel to play and many college stars heading to Israel to hone their skills. And who could forget Amare Stoudemire's pursuit of his Jewish heritage and Lebron James' meeting with a rabbi. All of this is in a tight two-and-a-half-year window.

Since then, much of it has crashed. Both Brown and Frank are gone from the NBA coaching scene and Stern will be stepping down very soon (to be replaced, however, by current deputy commissioner Adam Silver). Farmar has landed in Turkey after a tough run with the Nets and Eliyahu never made a roster. The undrafted Landesberg has moved up to Maccabi Tel Aviv, but he has yet to get more than a summer league spot on an NBA roster. Anthony Parker, the player who benefited most by coming to Israel to play, has retired. Scheyer has given up on playing at at the top level and recently joined the Duke coaching staff. And of course, Stoudemire is not Jewish and Lebron never converted.

This leaves us with Casspi, Israel's golden boy, who in his rookie year took the league by storm and looked to be an elite athlete. Now, Casspi, limited in minutes and productivity, has been rumored in trades once again and faces the idea of going back to Israel. While Israel might be the best option for his career, it would certainly hurt Jewish basketball as a whole with no player in the NBA for Jews to rally behind. The only other option is the potential of Davidson's Jake Cohen, who will have to prove himself over the next few months for an NBA team to use a pick on him. Realistically, Casspi's stay in the NBA is important, not something calculated by minutes, but with hope for Jewish ballers everywhere.