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November 25, 2020

How We Can Be Happy This Thanksgiving

It’s that time of year: to make the obligatory Facebook posts, Instagram stories, tweets and toasts (albeit, virtual this year) about what we’re grateful for. We’ll talk about what a challenging year this has been, what we’ve learned and what we’re thankful for. Thursday morning, we’ll open our morning newspapers and our virtual news feeds to stories rehashing the not-so-new research on how being grateful makes us happier, more productive at work and helps us live longer.

The posts, articles, text, emails and calls that will keep our phones abuzz on Thursday will suggest we’re all thankful. And not just thankful — utterly overwhelmed by our gratitude.

When it comes to gratitude, Thursday is America’s annual command performance.

But if we’re so “grateful,” then why are Americans so unhappy? You might be tempted to argue that it’s the pandemic and the ensuing economic crisis, social isolation, unemployment and spike in divorce rates.

If you made such an argument, you wouldn’t be wrong: 2020 has been a wild roller coaster ride we’re all dying to get off of. But you also wouldn’t be right. The pandemic hasn’t made us unhappy. It has simply made us unhappier.

That’s because America’s unhappiness problem isn’t new. In fact, not only are we less happy than our peer nations but also, according to U.S. News & World Report, our happiness ratings have been decreasing annually for years. We dropped from #13 in 2017 to #19 in the 2019 report. Although I don’t have a crystal ball, my hunch is that 2020 is not going to be a great year for us, as the United States has been hit harder by the virus and economic crisis than other countries who beat us on happiness scores in the best of times.

So why aren’t we happy?

Look no further than the content on your phone by Thursday at noon: we all have a lot to be grateful for, and that’s just the problem. It’s counterintuitive, but all that great stuff can actually numb us out to our own happiness over time. It’s a phenomenon called hedonistic adaptation: the more positivity we have in our lives, the more the “good stuff” that once brought us intense joy and gratitude becomes a part of our baseline operating expectation for our lives. Remember how excited you were when you landed that big job or promotion… and then how it became “just work” again a few months later? Or the new relationship that made you ecstatic when the romance was new… but then became just “normal life” a year (or thirty) later?

Due to hedonistic adaptation, to get that next rush of intense joy or gratitude, each “happiness rush” needs to be bigger and bolder than the last. So is it any surprise that when the bar to happiness keeps climbing higher and higher, it’s harder to actually feel happy day in and day out?

No. In fact, it’s a miracle that we can feel happy at all! Like joy addicts, we can fall into a trap where we’re either on the ends-too-quickly rush of a new happiness “high” or desperately seeking out the next one from the depths of our crashed-out low.

How do we break the cycle?

With hedonistic adaptation, we’re conditioned to think that joy is the conduit to lasting contentment: if we can just get that next happiness “high,” it will sustain us. But that’s exactly how our hedonistic adaptation fails us and keeps us on its endless repeat loop in the process.

We break the cycle when we flip the script: instead of letting joy be our conduit to contentment, we let contentment be our conduit to joy.

We break the cycle when we flip the script: instead of letting joy be our conduit to contentment, we let contentment be our conduit to joy.

This isn’t a new idea, but it’s one we’re not practicing enough. As it is famously discussed in Pirkei Avot, cultivating gratitude in our lives is the key to contentment, “Who is rich? He who is happy with his lot.” We need to spend less of our energy working towards the next happiness “high” and more of our energy practicing gratitude and contentment.

That’s why instead of going big this year, I challenge you to go small. Unlike the big events of our happiness “highs,” cultivating contentment is all about micro shifts in our mindset. As noted in the Zohar, the Hebrew word for joy (besimchah) also spells thought (machshavat) when the letters are rearranged.

Gratitude doesn’t have to be a once-a-year, public social media extravaganza — as Thanksgiving would have us assume. It is actually far more powerful as a quiet, daily practice. It’s as simple as writing down something you’re grateful for, picking up the phone to tell somebody you care about them instead of just liking their latest post, telling somebody at work you appreciate them or even building awareness about what you most appreciate in yourself. And there’s no better day to start than Thursday, the day of thanks itself.

These shifts take practice and be warned: like breaking any other bad habit in our life, it can feel hard at the beginning. It’s hard to feel satisfied when our hedonistic adaptation keeps us addicted to the next big happiness “high.” It’s hard to be content in the middle of a global pandemic with so much loss and hardship.

To be clear, cultivating contentment doesn’t mean that our lives are suddenly rainbows and butterflies all the time. But we have more choice in our feelings than we often recognize. As Viktor Frankel famously reflected, “Everything can be taken from a person but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

This Thanksgiving, if you want to really practice gratitude, try cultivating contentment. Some days will be easier than others. When joy feels far and you feel tempted to search for that next happiness “high” outside of yourself, remember that contentment is always closer than you think it is. “Who is rich? He who is happy with his lot.”


Randi Braun is an executive coach, consultant, speaker and the founder of Something Major

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Education-Legal Partnerships Are Needed to Fight Student Poverty

Attending school during a pandemic is difficult. Attending school without a stable home is unfathomable. Unfortunately, that’s a reality for more than a quarter million students in California, according to a recent report from UCLA’s Center for the Transformation of Schools. The study found that schools can, and do, play a vital role in providing for our most vulnerable students, but they can’t solve the crisis of child poverty alone. We agree and believe that by embracing more collaborative efforts like “education-legal partnerships,” they don’t have to.

The past several months have laid bare the unsung role of schools as the backbone of our social safety net. School Districts like Los Angeles Unified have embraced this caregiver role, providing food, medical care, mental health services, and childcare — all on top of providing an education. But these schools never have the financial or other structural supports necessary to fully meet the needs of students. Legal assistance, for instance, is notably absent, forcing families to seek outside, unfamiliar sources of aid.

Even prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, community schools had emerged as powerful models to support students’ holistic needs. Also called “full-service schools,” community schools provide an integrated set of services to meet the learning and developmental needs of children. LA Unified has made a concerted effort to replicate the concept of community schools, funding dedicated staff and training and forging partnerships to provide primary medical care, vision care, dental screening, and mental health services — among other efforts — wherever possible. The community school model acknowledges the reality that families have more trust in schools and teachers than in other institutions and that society should build upon that trust to support children and help them grow.

Under our proposed “education-legal partnership,” community schools should build partnerships with legal aid organizations. What if children and their families had access to a free lawyer that was assigned to their school? What if this lawyer helped families address the legal issues that led to their homelessness or food insecurity, or helped avoid these issues in the first place? What if this lawyer spent time with teachers and parents, providing legal training and empowering communities to prevent the need for legal intervention?

What if children and their families had access to a free lawyer that was assigned to their school?

We already have examples of education-legal partnerships here in Los Angeles Unified (where Nick is a Board Member). The district partnered with UCLA School of Law to develop the Immigrant Family Legal Clinic, where UCLA Law students and legal staff provide immigration legal services to families. Bet Tzedek, a nonprofit that provides free legal services (where Diego is CEO), also hosts an attorney at the UCLA clinic who focuses specifically on supporting families to obtain outstanding wages. That clinic, operated and funded by its legal partners, is part of the RFK community school, physically located on the campus and accessible to families.

The successful partnership at RFK demonstrates that families who are used to connecting with teachers, counselors, and administrators with questions can easily be connected to a lawyer. With that lawyer’s help, families have been able to access government benefits, receive the wages they are owed, keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.

LA Unified is working to expand the services of the community school model to reach more students and families, and this includes the District’s efforts to decentralize more than 1,200 schools into 42 smaller clusters of schools (called “Communities of Schools”). We are exploring an “education-legal partnership” pilot, with the help of Bet Tzedek, to serve the whole Community of Schools in Fairfax — rather than limiting these legal services to individual schools.

This type of collaboration may be novel in the education world, but it isn’t new to the legal profession. Over the past few decades, Medical-Legal Partnerships (MLPs) have flourished across the United States. Even here in Los Angeles, Bet Tzedek has two attorneys located at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center who receive direct referrals from hospital staff of patients with legal issues that need addressing. The theory behind an MLP is deceptively simple: a patient’s health is often impacted by social and environmental factors, often referred to as “social determinants of health,” such as where they live. A doctor can’t help with those issues — but a lawyer can. Remedying these underlying social determinants can also help prevent further medical concerns.

This concept of “social determinant” is already very familiar to teachers and school administrators. If a child hasn’t slept well because they are living out of a car, they will have a difficult time concentrating. If a child is hungry due to food insecurity, they will have a difficult time focusing. Schools can offer a stable learning environment and free meals, but a lawyer can address the underlying issues that families are facing.

California has strong laws in place to protect vulnerable populations, but those laws work only if families are aware, empowered, and supported in their enforcement. Local schools can’t solve these problems alone, but they do offer one setting to connect families with the support they need to address the barriers of systemic poverty.


Diego Cartagena is President & Chief Executive Officer at Bet Tzedek Legal Services.
Nick Melvoin is a Board Member at the Los Angeles Unified School District.

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Jerusalem College of Technology’s Nursing School Renamed

The Jerusalem College of Technology (JCT) announced on November 24 that it is renaming the nationally renowned nursing school to the Selma Jelinek School of Nursing.

After receiving a generous gift from Atta and Henry Zieleniec, JCT will use the funds to construct a four-story, 60,000-square-foot building equipped with advanced medical simulation training labs, lecture halls, classrooms, faculty offices and a library on JCT’s new Tal Campus for Women.

“We are profoundly grateful to Atta and Henry Zieleniec for their generous gift to our nursing school and our new Tal Campus for Women,” JCT President and Professor Chaim Sukenik said in a statement. “The coronavirus pandemic has reminded us all of the critical importance of nursing and medical infrastructure. This gift will help provide the country with thousands of highly skilled medical personnel for decades to come.”

Established in 1969, the JCT is one of Israel’s most prestigious academic institutions, focusing on science and technology. JCT is the only institution of higher learning committed to providing the highest quality academic education to diverse segments of Israeli society who would not otherwise have had the opportunity to enter these fields. JCT offers exclusive programs developed for everyone, including Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) men and women.

The new Tal Campus will be the permanent home for up to 3,000 of JCT’s female students in nursing, computer science, electro-optics, industrial engineering, accounting and management. The campus will provide increased opportunities for national religious, Haredi and Ethiopian women to pursue higher education and attain employment in Jerusalem’s high-tech industries.

The school is being named in memory of Atta’s mother, Holocaust survivor Selma Jelinek, who was affectionately known as “Nurse Selma.” Jelinek escaped the Nazi annihilation of the Jewish presence in Koretz and became a nurse in the Russian army. While she was a nurse she took care of Alex, a Russian tank commander and an officer who was injured in battle, and got married after recovery.

The school is being named in memory of Atta’s mother, Holocaust survivor Selma Jelinek, who was affectionately known as “Nurse Selma.”

Inspired by her parents, Atta thought the naming of JCT’s nursing school would be the most fitting tribute to her mother — whose legacy is more relevant than ever amid Israel’s rising cases of COVID-19.

In March, JCT has trained 600 third- and fourth-year nursing students in respiratory care within just one week. Then, in April, more than 30 of JCT’s nursing students started working in nursing homes across Israel, drawing from their college’s expertise as the only academic institution in Israel that offers a master’s degree course in nursing with a clinical specialization in geriatrics.

JCT’s School of Nursing hosts more than 1,000 students annually. It is widely recognized as the country’s premier nursing program, having received the Health Ministry’s National Prize for Excellence and ranking first among 24 nursing departments nationwide.

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Poem: Vayetzei

I

It’s getting so all my poems about the Torah
read like a JDate ad campaign run by old Uncle Laban
Jacob, two wives and their handmaidens later

and suddenly a baker’s dozen of children
running around the campground
like they own the place.

My wife and I had the good sense to stop at one.
At least that was my idea; she would have gone on
forever.

But thirteen children in the Land of Canaan!
Can you imagine the diaper situation?
We definitely would have used a service.

Despite the obvious allure of gifted sheep
Jacob can’t shake the feeling
There’s no place like home.

Steals away with his family…
with our family
with the stealth of billion dollar technology.

Sets up shop in the Holy Land
where angels meet them
like old neighbors bearing fruit.

II

Two Dreams

Old Uncle Laban
with the sand of night
in his eyes
lets Jacob
go.

Jacob
a stone for a pillow
a ladder to the sky

like we all haven’t found
construction materials
in the desert

wrestles with himself
at the cornerstone
of a Holy Land,

takes the name Israel,
gives it to all of us.


Rick Lupert, a poet, songleader and graphic designer, is the author of 23 books including “God Wrestler: A Poem for Every Torah Portion.”

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Table for Five: Vayeitzei

One verse, five voices. Edited by Salvador Litvak, the Accidental Talmudist

And an angel of God said to me in a dream, ‘Jacob!’ And I said, ‘Here I am.’ -Gen. 31:11


Rabbi Elchanan Shoff
Beis Knesses of Los Angeles

Yaakov saw angels more than once. He even sent angels to perform a mission for him. When an angel addressed him, he responded “Hineni – here I am.” When Yaakov saw the iconic and grand vision, “a ladder, resting on the earth whose head reached Heavenward,” he also saw “angels of God going up and down it.” Our Sages in the Midrash tell us that the ladder represented Yaakov himself. Yaakov learned in this vision that angels of God are either elevated or lowered based upon his choices.

As 18th century scholar R. Aryeh Leib Heller magnificently writes in the introduction to his Shev Shmatasa, the human being entirely controls the destiny of all of existence, from the future of our planet to the futures of the angels. The great gift of free will, of choice and consequence is that even the divine forces are at our mercy. Should a great man, a Yaakov, be addressed by an angel of God, his first words must be “Hineni”, an awareness that his spiritual state, his choices and his attitudes are what define our interactions. Angels don’t influence us nearly as much as we influence them.

Far from a cry of “wow, look at that!” Yaakov cries, “Wow. Look at me.” No matter what is going on in our world – no matter how upsetting another person or the behavior may be, Yaakov teaches us that all of the world is ours to influence, to elevate or diminish. Look no farther than yourself. Hineni!


Rivkah Slonim
Education Director, Rohr Chabad Center at Binghampton University

To be or not to be, that is the question. As Jacob readies himself and his wives to leave Laban’s homestead, he tells them of a dream in which an angel appears to him, and of his reply: Hineni. Rashi teaches that Hineni is the response of the pious which paradoxically denotes both humility and heightened readiness, a form of self-assertion.

Chassidic teachings illuminate the meaning of an otherwise enigmatic part of the Torah concerned with Jacob’s assets and Laban’s concerted efforts to deceive him. Jacob worked with sheep and was principally paid with sheep because spiritually this represents a type of service that was necessary whilst in exile with Laban. The shepherd-flock relationship with God differs from the one cultivated by Jacob during his years of learning that preceded his coming to Charan. Study connotes an awareness of the self and one’s intellect. Shepherding is about subservience, a modality Jacob understood to be essential to his mission in Charan. Now, however, as he prepares to leave Laban, Jacob is described as a prosperous man; the owner of prolific flocks, bondsmen, bondswomen, camels and donkeys. The time had come to diversify.

To fulfill his destiny he recognized the need to employ and assert other aspects of his personality alluded to in the delineated categories of his material amassments. And yet at the same time he made these purchases with sheep, signaling that his service would always be suffused with selflessness. To be and not to be, that is the answer.


Cantor Michelle Bider Stone
Shalom Hartman Institute of North America

The following is inspired by Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, z”l, presented in his memory.

This week’s parsha includes a very famous dream. This isn’t it. No, this dream comes 20 years after the famous dream of the angels ascending and descending the ladder. Jacob has been serving his deceitful father-in-law for 20 years when an angel of God tells him it’s time to leave and free himself from the abuse. This is one of many times Jacob encounters the Divine at night. Each time, it happens when Jacob is preoccupied with other things: fear of his brother, Esau; dealing with his duplicitous father-in-law, Laban; discovering that his son, Joseph, is still alive. His encounters with the divine are unexpected, yet they awaken something in Jacob, setting him on a new course.

Rabbi Sacks eloquently teaches, “None of us knows when the presence of God will suddenly intrude into our lives…Jacob signifies God’s encounter with us – unplanned, unscheduled, unexpected; the vision, the voice, the call we can never know in advance but which leaves us transformed.” Some believe it’s a call from God, others call it epiphany. It may come when we are at a low point or are simply asleep to something we need to hear, and suddenly, unexpected lucidity comes. Whether you believe it is a message from God or your inner conscience, the powerful experience often brings clarity when we least anticipate it. The question remains, will we listen and act when we hear the voice?


Rabbi Eva Robbins
Co-Rabbi and Cantor, N’vay Shalom

A major theme in this Parasha is angels, Malachim, which also means messengers or workers. Running away, after stealing and manipulating his brother’s blessing and inheritance, Jacob is met with a dream of angels and hearing God’s voice. He becomes sensitized to spiritual awareness and Divine presence.

His first encounter opens feelings of awe and trembling. However, this time, without skipping a beat, his immediate response is, Hineni, “I am here,” now fully present. Twenty years of hard work, finding his B’shert, soulmate, raising a family and accumulating much wealth he is a different man. Upon his first encounter he is single, terrified, and alone; it is night, a time of fear and insecurity. Now, after proving his worth, gaining confidence, experience, and psycho-spiritually redeeming himself, he hears God’s voice, once again, this time in daylight, fully open and ready to receive the message to return home.

Zohar points out that the first experience, ‘alone and unmarried,’ he entreats, Vayifga, the place and the angels, but now, married with eleven sons, prospective tribes of Israel, the “supernal camps of angels entreated him, Vayifg’u vo. We learn how important relationship, family, and work experience are to becoming mature and wise. More importantly, resolving some of his guilt and behavior towards Esau, by serving Lavan his father-in-law, he comes closer to his climactic encounter with another angel who will change his name and become the man who will lead the people. May we all come to say Hineni, ‘here am I,’ fully present!


Rabbi David Block
Associate Head of School, Shalhevet

It is quite telling that when Yaakov relays his prophecy, he says that it was in a “dream.” That factually must be true; the Rambam is clear that all prophets save Moshe experience prophesy through some form of trance or dream. What’s interesting is that Yaakov chose to highlight that seemingly ancillary detail. Why?

We’ve hit upon a theme. Earlier, God appeared to Yaakov in the famous dream of the angles and the ladder. Later, God appeared to Yaakov in “a night vision (46:2).” The Meshech Chochma, R’ Simcha Meir HaKohen of Dvinsk, points out that on both of these occasions, Yaakov was about to leave Israel to settle in the Diaspora. Symbolically, God chose to appear to Yaakov in dreams in order to show that even at night – even in the darkness of exile – God will always be with him. “When they were exiled to Bavel, God’s Presence was [“exiled”] with them” (Megillah 29a). Indeed, it’s fitting that Yaakov is the one who established the evening prayers (Berachos 26b).

Perhaps this framework is not limited to travel to the Diaspora but to the start of any “holy” journey into the unknown. In our verse, Yaakov is about to leave Lavan’s home after 21 years, and while Lavan mistreated him, restarting can be unsettling, frightening. And perhaps his wives felt similarly about leaving their father’s home. So Yaakov said: God appeared to me in a dream, at night. Don’t be afraid – God will be with us in our darkest times.

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