“Kosher Face” is Aley Sheer’s edgy send-up of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face”… a tribute to the members of the tribe of Abraham… a tongue-in-cheek exploration of the Jewish experience, populated by a host of Jewish celebrities of today… and the past. Sheer, by the way, is the youth director of a prominent synagogue.
Check out Kosher Face here.
Recently, 31 Or Ami adults gathered for our monthly New Dimensions Shmooze ‘n Study at a congregant’s home. Over hors dourves and drinks, we chatted, connected and then sat down for some learning.
Our discussion about community quickly turned to the community building power of Tikkun Olam (fixing the world or social justice work), which led to a discussion about the origins of the idea of Tikkun Olam.
Recognizing that many people do not know where origins of Tikkun Olam, I share here an article from Reform Judaism Magazine: Social Action: Tikkun Olam: The Backstory – An RJ conversation with Howard Schwartz.
What is the origin of tikkun olam?
While most modern Jews interpret the term—meaning “repair of the world”—as a synonym for social action, what they don’t know is that this idea is rooted in the last great myth infused into Jewish tradition, the creation of the renowned 16th-century Jewish mystic, Rabbi Isaac Luria of Safed, known as the Ari.
Did the Ari originate the term?
No. Tikkun olam first appeared in the Mishnah (2nd century CE) and meant “guarding the established order.” It is also part of the Aleinu prayer: “perfecting the world under the rule of God.” Later, in the 12th century, Maimonides spoke of tikkun olam in the context of rabbinic rulings and customs that would “strengthen the religion.”
How then did the Ari’s use differ?
In these earlier definitions, it is God who is doing the repairing. The Ari was the first to propose that the Jewish people are God’s partners in repairing the world, and he did so by constructing a cosmic myth around the term, beginning with the creation of the world and ending with the Messianic Era.
Please summarize the myth for us.
At the beginning of time, God’s presence filled the universe. When God decided to bring the world into being, to make room for creation, He contracted Himself by drawing in His breath, forming a dark mass. Then God said, Let there be light (Gen. 1:3) and ten holy vessels came forth, each filled with primordial light.
God sent forth the ten vessels like a fleet of ships, each carrying its cargo of light. But the vessels—too fragile to contain such powerful Divine light—broke open, scattering the holy sparks everywhere.
Had these vessels arrived intact, the world would have been perfect. Instead, God created people to seek out and gather the hidden sparks, wherever we can find them. Once this task is completed, the broken vessels will be restored and the world will be repaired.
Did the Ari invent all the myth’s aspects?
Quite the contrary: Every aspect of the Ari’s myth can be found in earlier biblical, rabbinic, and mystical Jewish interpretations and principles. For example, the Ari elevated the concept of tzimtzum, the idea that God contracted to make space for Creation. This perspective assumes that God’s presence occupies physical space—a biblical teaching. God told Moses to build a tent of meeting, but “Moses was unable to enter the tent because a cloud had settled upon it and the presence of God filled the Tabernacle” (Exod. 40:34-35). Similarly, the shattering of the vessels recalls Moses’ rage when he saw the golden calf and “hurled the tablets from his hands and shattered them at the foot of the mountain” (Exod. 32:19). So too were the holy vessels of the Ari’s myth like the heavenly tablets—crafted by God.
Scattered sparks also appear in Ezekiel 10:2, in which angelic figures scatter fiery coals from the Temple altar over the city of Jerusalem (“Fill your hands with glowing coals from among the cherubs, and scatter them over the city”) and bring to mind the Israelites who gathered the manna that fell from heaven (Exod. 16:17). Just as the manna fell to nourish the body, so the holy sparks serve to nourish the soul.
A midrash about the light created on the first day inspired the idea of primordial light inside the vessels. Here the ancient rabbis noticed an apparent contradiction: On the first day of creation, God says, “Let there be light” (Genesis 1:3); and on the fourth day, God created the sun, the moon, and the stars (Gen. 1:16-18). If God did not create the sun until the fourth day, they asked, what was the light God called into being on day one? The rabbis identified it as a primordial light—perhaps the light of paradise, or the light that emerged when God wrapped Himself in a garment of light (Psalms 104:2).
What, then, happened to this light? According to the Talmud and other rabbinic sources, God withdrew it from the world, and it became known as the ha-or ha-ganuz, the hidden light. Some said the light was taken back into paradise when Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit. From the perspective of the Zohar, the 13th-century foundational text of Jewish mysticism, this light is hidden in the Torah: Whenever a person studies the Torah with great concentration, a ray of the primordial light will illuminate both the Torah and the person, reflecting his/her new understanding of it.
In the Ari’s myth, the primordial light God sent forth on that first day is the same light scattered around our world as holy sparks, which each of us is called upon to seek out and gather.
How do we go about finding and gathering these mysterious, elusive sparks?
The Ari explained that the sparks are raised up whenever the Torah is studied or one of God’s commandments is fulfilled. This is a radical explanation of why we perform the mitzvot. Whereas before these rituals and prayers were regarded purely as God’s commandments, the Ari now attributed a beneficial spiritual effect to them: Studying the Torah as well as observing its laws and partaking in all other devotional and loving acts are the means to gather the sparks, and thus engage in the great mitzvah of tikkun olam.
How might the Ari’s life have influenced his interpretations?
The Ari lived in the 16th century, not long after the expulsions of the Jews from Spain and Portugal. He was well aware of the great dislocation that had followed in the aftermath of that trauma. Jews who for generations had been part of an advanced Sephardic culture on the Iberian Peninsula were suddenly scattered throughout the world, living in foreign and unfamiliar lands. Until they learned of the Ari’s myth, many of these exiles found themselves isolated and spiritually bereft. The notion of tikkun olam brought them almost immediate consolation and a sense of purpose by explaining why God had dispersed them—to gather the holy sparks that had fallen on these distant lands. Learning that their exile was part of God’s plan for tikkun olam also raised their hopes for an ingathering of all Jews with the coming of the Messiah. Little wonder that, within a year of its formulation in the Galilean town of Safed, the Ari’s myth had spread throughout the Jewish world.
Does the Ari’s myth give Jews a special role in the repair of the world?
The Ari viewed Israel as having a singular destiny based on God’s covenant with the Jewish people. However, the idea of God creating humans to remedy a Divine error suggests a more universal meaning: A repaired world can be realized only if the whole of humanity engages in collecting the sparks.
Did this myth continue to evolve?
Yes. Consistent with the ongoing myth-making process in Judaism, after the Ari’s death, his teachings, known as Lurianic kabbalah, became the leading expression of kabbalah, deeply influencing Sephardic and Hasidic mystics. Their commentaries sometimes embellished the Ari’s myth. The hasidic master Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Rimanov (1745–1815), for example, stated that “when the task of gathering the sparks nears completion, God will hasten the arrival of the final redemption by Himself collecting what remains of the holy sparks that went astray.” Later, Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira (1889–1943) linked the Ari’s myth to a famous midrash about prior worlds that God is said to have created: “At the time of creation, God created worlds and destroyed them. The worlds created and destroyed were the shattered vessels God sent forth. Out of those broken vessels God created the present universe.”
How do you account for the continued appeal of tikkun olam?
The concept of human partnership with God to heal heaven and earth is both engaging and energizing. In a sense, tikkun olam expands God’s original covenant with the Jews at Sinai by adding a metaphysical and spiritual dimension to our ethical and moral obligations. The Ari was a rare genius who understood the need for a guiding myth for the Jewish people and joined together an array of Jewish legends to create a single, seamless, unifying myth. This myth’s integration of mind, body, and spirit has given tikkun olam its timeless appeal.
[Howard Schwartz is a professor of English at University of Missouri-St. Louis, a Jewish folklorist and mythologist, and author of, most recently, Tree of Souls: The Mythology of Judaism and Leaves from the Garden of Eden: One Hundred Classic Jewish Tales.]
Including Rabbi Sharon Brous, Rabbi Laura Geller, Rabbi Lisa Edwards, Rabbi Naomi Levy, Rabbi Lynn Brody, Rabbi Denise Eger and Women of the Wall’s Anat Hoffman.
Not too long ago, I posted about Rudeness All Around: Loud Public Cellphone Talking, Texting During Services as a way of opening up a conversation about texting, cell phoning and other activities that fragment the common decency upon which civil society depends. It led me to a conversation about Lashon Harah, gossip, as a nefarious force which undermines community.
Recently I learned that our ancient rabbis recognized this same danger, branding gossip (in not so many words) as the “anti-Torah.” My colleague Dr. Judith Abrams, founder of Maqom, a program for spiritual searching and serious Talmud study, illuminating the Talmudic Teaching (originally posted on Tzei ul’mad: A Blog of Continuing Jewish Learning).
One of the things I love about studying Talmud is that it’s like a kaleidoscope: take a look, shake it up, turn it around, take another look and you see a whole new picture.
We all know that there are 4 things that benefit you here and in the world to come:
- honoring father and mother
- doing deeds of kindness
- bringing peace between people and
- the study of Torah is equal to them all. (Mishnah Peah 1:1)
The (Talmud) Yerushalmi, in its gemara to this mishnah, shakes the kaleidoscope and show us the other side of this teaching, i.e., the four things that hurt you here and in the world to come:
- idolatry
- murder
- inappropriate sexual relations
- lashon hara (gossip) is equal to them all. (Yerushalmi Peah 1:1, 8a1 in the Artscroll Elucidation)
Each of the four good things is paired with its photo-negative. The links are easy to see: Honoring ones parents includes honoring one’s divine parent, i.e., God. So idolatry is the anti-honoring parent deed. Deeds of kindness show we treasure life. Murder, of course, is the farthest from that that we can get. Peace between people depends on appropriate boundaries and inappropriate sexuality dismisses such boundaries as meaningfless. What I especially love is that gossip turns out to be the photo-negative of Torah study. It’s words that can do so much good or so much harm.
But here’s the real catch-22: according to the (Talmud) Bavli (Baba Batra 164b-165a), everyone gossips to some extent every single day. Unless you’re going to stay in a cave somewhere and never speak again, your going to at least do the “dust of lashon hara” everyday. Since you couldn’t live anywhere near a complete Jewish life in such isolation, there’s only one thing to do: add more Torah words to your life. In that context, Torah study isn’t just a good thing…it’s the one thing that tips the balance back into your favor, shoring up the imbalance that inevitably follows gossip.
So Torah study isn’t just good for you lishmah…it compensates for lashon hara.
Among the most important contributions of the Reform Movement to Judaism, was/is its rebalancing the gender roles within our religion/people. We brought women out from behind the mechitza and onto the bimah. Judaism thrives because of this. Innovation? No, reclamation of what was and should be.
Divrei Derech writes: Yes, a woman was arrested for wearing a tallit, the traditional Jewish prayer shawl. What theocracy might perpetrate such a travesty… Israel.
First of all, I do believe Israel is a relatively good democracy, like others (including our own here in the U.S.), certainly not perfect, and it’s partnered with a relatively good system of justice.But we know that politics get complex and especially so as they intersect with religion.I remember seeing the group Women of the Wall Women of the Wall when I lived in Israel. Their purpose was to gain the right to pray at this holy site. Unfortunately, some traditional authorities do not accept women constituting a prayer group and do not accept women praying aloud. Read on.
My Colleague, Rabbi Eric Berk, another Bruce Springsteen fan, finds connection – in two steps – from the great Chassidic teacher Nachman of Bratslav to the greatest singer of our day. Check it out!
By MELISSA NANN BURKE (Daily Record/Sunday News)
Thanksgiving can be a time to meditate on all that you are grateful for.
Instead of reciting the same, rote family prayer at the dinner table this year, we asked clergy to share some advice on writing your own:
Some people can pray aloud in front of a group easily and spontaneously. Some will use the standard blessing, such as the “Bless us, o Lord . . .” Other families will have a memorized thing or will have an opportunity for everyone to say what they’re thankful for.
I certainly encourage people to pray spontaneously just to slow them down a bit — sometimes things that we memorize we tend to say it so quickly. And sometimes to do something spontaneously allows for a little more reflection, a little more thought. More
Then for more Thanksgiving ideas, click here.
This morning, I signed onto a letter with a broad array of clergy from different religious faiths to support the Employee Non-Discrimination Act to ensure fair treatment of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) Americans in the workplace. Supported by our Union for Reform Judaism and our Washington-based Religious Action Center for Reform Judaism (Read Rabbi David Saperstein’s testimony before Congress), this interfaith letter is also supported by a half a dozen other mainstream Jewish organizations. The letter will be sent to members of Congress. Most significantly, the letter emphasizes that which we learn from Torah: We affirm the sacred dignity and worth of all human beings – lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and heterosexual, men and women – for all are created equal, b’tzelem Elohim, a reflection of the divine (Genesis 1:27). You can help end Workplace Discrimination by just making a few calls.
Dear Member of Congress,
As clergy and faith leaders from a broad diversity of religious traditions, we call on you to support H.R. 3017 and S. 1584, the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA), to ensure the fair treatment of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) Americans in the workplace.
We believe it is immoral to deprive anyone of the means to feed, clothe, and care for themselves and their families. When LGBT people are denied the right to work simply for living honestly, their basic humanity is fundamentally denied. As clergy and faith community leaders, we know firsthand the devastating effects the loss of a job can have on individuals, families, and communities. Though we are all pained by the economic hardships befalling our nation, loss of a job because of discrimination against one’s identity incurs an even more devastating sense of personal loss and humiliation. This prejudice is not benign – it hurts real families in our congregations.
We affirm the sacred dignity and worth of all human beings – lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and heterosexual, men and women – for all are created equal, a reflection of the divine (Genesis 1:27; The Quran 95:4). Our faiths unite us in a moral obligation to treat others with the respect we desire for ourselves and to pursue justice by preventing further harm from coming to those most marginalized by our society (UdanaVarga 5:18; Mahabharata, Anusasana Parva, 113.8; Isaiah 10:1-2; Matthew 25:40; Prophet Mohammed(PBUH): Bukhari & Muslim). As heirs to these prophetic traditions, and indeed the narrative of this nation, our advocacy is grounded in the belief that advancing equality also means ensuring economic opportunity for our LGBT brothers and sisters. Swift enactment of an inclusive Employment Non-Discrimination Act is needed.
ENDA is a common-sense, measured approach to removing discriminatory barriers to employment for LGBT people while respecting the sacred texts and teachings of America’s diverse faith traditions. This bill broadly exempts from its scope all religious organizations protected by Title VII of the 1964 Civil Rights Act thereby honoring the free exercise of religion and conscience we each hold dear as religious leaders in our respective houses of worship, seminaries, religious federations, organizations and other faith-based institutions.
Extending the full, long overdue rights and responsibilities of citizenship to the LGBT community is a pressing moral, social and economic priority. We urge Congress to pass the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (H.R. 3017, S. 1584) to uphold the American promise of justice and equality for all.
A recent New York Times article, As the Rudes Get Ruder, the Scolds Get Scoldier, laments an equally challenging problem – the loud cellphone talker in the restaurant, coffee shop (or in NYC, on the subway). A relative of the rude person who parks in the handicapped spot (but is fully physically abled), Loud Talker seems oblivious to his rudeness. So how do we respond?
I recall an incident a few years back, Just Two Weeks after Yom Kippur and Already I’m Sinning. There in the street stood a woman, leaning toward the window of a big SUV, having a conversation. After observing a few cars swerve around her, I came to believe that she was endangering herself and others by standing in the road. I opened my window and called out, “Could you move to the other side of the car? By standing there you are making it unsafe for our kids.” She and the woman in the driver’s seat of the SUV looked strangely at me and said, “What?” I repeated my concern, “Standing in the street, you are making it unsafe for our kids and yourself. The cars are swerving…” She looked at me again, pondered what I said, and called out, “Shut Up!”
Flabbergasted then, I’m still flabbergasted.
How do we respond? Torah (Leviticus 19:17-18) teaches “You shall not hate your kinsman in your heart. You shall surely rebuke your neighbor, and not bear sin because of him. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your kinsfolk. Love your neighbor as yourself.” Say something, because rudeness can be cured.
But say it with sweetness as we learn from 12th century Maimonides, One who rebukes another, whether for [personal] offenses or for sins against God, should administer the rebuke in private, speak to the offender gently and tenderly and point out that he is only speaking for the wrongdoer’s own good… (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot De’ot 6:7).
How would you respond to Loud Public Cellphone Talker? To Teen Torah Service Texter? To Handicapped Parking Space Stealer? I’m dying to know…
Then we stand again on the bimah as the child, now thirteen, becomes a Bat or Bar Mitzvah. Having spent years learning about Judaism and practicing Hebrew, she now leads the service, chant from Torah, and gets to stand before parents, relatives and friends who sit quietly and attentively as she expounds eloquently on some lesson derived from Torah. Nervousness surrounds us as the teens, so worried about what others will think, now are anxious about whether they will mess up the words or the tune. Some will now call them “men” or “women” but we know better. They are just taking the first steps on the road toward being an adult. Still we pass down Torah midor lador, from generation to generation, hoping that their shoulders are now broad enough to carry on the burden (and joy) of our tradition and values. Smiles mingle with tears as we realize our children are no longer babies. And we bless, shehecheyanu, thanking God for getting us to this special day.
Then we stand again, on the bimah leading up to the airplane, as we accompany our babies on their journeys to visit potential colleges. Having spent years learning about everything and nothing, they now travel up and down the coast, and sometimes across the country, seeking out the right match – a college to propel them forward toward chochma (wisdom) and talmud Torah (learning). Nervousness surrounds us as they spend months struggling to capture in college essays the essence of their lives, souls and dreams, worried that if they do not put their best face forward they will be rejected by the schools of their choice. Some will call them “adults,” as they soon can vote, make their own decisions, and, in time, drink legally. But we know that they are still just older kids, merely taking the next set of steps on the path toward adulthood (and besides, a vast majority will come back home after graduation for the free room and board). Smiles mingle with tears as we realize our babies are simultaneously our children in need of guidance and not.
Yes, consecration is a liminal moment, a time of transition into study.
Yes, Bar/Bat Mitzvah is a liminal moment, a transition onto the path toward adulthood.
And choosing a college, now that is really a liminal moment, a transition, heartwrenchingly wonderful, which propels our children forward.
Philosophical? Yes. But deeply personal. Because the little redheaded girl who moments ago could not stand still on the bimah during her consecration, who seconds ago could not make me prouder as she chanted her Torah and gave her d’var Torah (speech) is now looking at colleges.
So, as I reflect upon these few days of our father-daughter college visiting trip – tours, interviews and visits to Hillel houses – I quietly intone, with a smile mingled with tears, the bracha (blessing) we Jews say whenever we arrive at one of these firsts:
…shehecheyanu v’kee’manu v’higee-anu lazman hazeh.
Holy One of Blessing, who has guided me on my journey through this universe, thank you for giving us life, for sustaining us, and for bringing us – with smiles and tears – to this incredible moment.
Rabbi Eric Yoffie, President of the Union for Reform Judaism, gave his Shabbat morning sermon at the URJ’s 70th Biennial Convention in Toronto. Read the full text. Just after he delivered it in Toronto, I read the text of his sermon in West Hills, CA (isn’t technology wonderful?). Thoughtful, eloquent as always, Rabbi Yoffie launched two Biennial initiatives:
Each of these initiatives offer food for thought (pun intended). I am particularly taken with his interest in expanding the use of technology within the synagogue world. We are finding, at Congregation Or Ami, that – through eNewsletters, this blog, our Facebook page, Twitter (newly using it), photo page and videos – we are reaching more people than would ever walk through the doors (except, perhaps, on the High Holy Days).
Recently a social media sub-committee met to prioritize our use of social media. We set out these goals:
Further, we decided to focus in these areas:
My colleagues often ask me how I have time to do all of this social media and technology. I answer, simply, that our congregants are communicating this way, so shouldn’t we be utilizing their modes of communication to spread Torah, communal caring and deep Jewish spirituality? That’s what motivates me. How about you?
A reminder to everyone who wants to create and sustain a welcoming religious institution:
Dr. Bruce Powell, founder of New Jewish Community High School in West Hills, spoke at Or Ami last week about How to Explain to our Teens Why Bother Being Ethical in an Unethical World. It was Fabulous. He was Inspiring. Straightforward. Contemplating still Dr. Powell’s teachings, I came across a sermon by Rabbi Stephen Pierce of Temple Emanu-El in San Francisco. Poignant, insightful, meaningful. Do read it:
Coziness, Drowsiness, The Lulling Effect, False Profits and Truth Decay—Restoring Trust After the Bubble Decade Of Economic Triumphalism, Materialism, Arrogance, Exploitatioin, Malignant Narcissism, and Betrayal
A sermon delivered on Kol Nidre 5770 Rabbi Stephen S. Pearce, PhDOur era is on trial! The financial mess created by uncontrolled greed created an ethical vacuum and destroyed faith in the advice of so- called “experts” and government regulators who reassured us that our assets would grow at an uninterrupted rate, home equity would continue its meteoric rise, and retirement funds would be protected from volitivity— even as the world economy descended into the abyss. harvard Law School economist kip Viscusi called this sad state of affairs “the lulling effect”— the government’s imprimatur that makes people feel safer than they really are. Where did we go wrong? Jean Twenge and W. Keith Campbell, authors of The Narcissism Epidemic: Living in the Age of Entitlement, provide a stinging indictment of what led to the current turmoil:
Understanding the narcissism epidemic is important because its long-term consequences are destructive to society. American culture’s focus on self-admiration has caused a flight from reality to the land of grandiose fantasy. We have phony rich people (with interest-only mortgages and piles of debt), phony beauty (with plastic surgery and cosmetic procedures), phony athletes (with performance-enhancing drugs), phony celebrities (via reality TV and YouTube), phony genius students (with grade inflation), a phony national economy (with $11 trillion of government debt), phony feelings of being special among children (with parenting and education focused on self-esteem), and phony friends (with the social networking explosion). All this fantasy might feel good, but, unfortunately, reality always wins. The mortgage meltdown and the resulting financial crisis are just one demonstration of how inflated desires eventually crash to earth. Read on, page 3.
I’m sitting here in Or Ami’s sanctuary as about 100 teenagers – 7th to 11th grades – and a handful of parents sit in silence, listening to Rita Lurie tell the story of surviving the Holocaust. In commemoration of Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass which began the Holocaust, we committed our young people to become witnesses.
Rita was five years old when she was forced to flee her home in Poland to hide from the Nazis. From the summer of 1942 to mid-1944, she and fourteen members of her family shared a nearly silent existence in a cramped, dark attic. Her brother, then her mother died before her eyes. Through the attic window, she saw an uncle shot before their eyes. Then, her surviving family spent five years wandering through Europe, waiting for a country to accept them.
We tried to help our teens understand the significance of this moment. I recalled the moment that half of them stood on this bimah with their parents and grandparents as Torah was passed down midor lador, from generation to generation. Each of them remembered the moment they held our heavy sefer Torah, Torah scroll, heavy both because it was physically heavy but moreso because it was a heavy burden they assumed. They were now responsible to carry Torah and its values into the world and to pass it onto the next generation.
Today, I told them, they assume another burden. They become witnesses to the tragedy, the fiery hell called the Holocaust. Reminding these young people that within ten years there will be very few survivors still living, I urged them to listen carefully. In ten years, when people lie and suggest that the Holocaust didn’t happen, or that 6 million didn’t die, or that just a few were killed, there will not be survivors to tell the truth. These young people sitting in our synagogue need to remember this story and become the witnesses, the truth-tellers about the Holocaust.
With her daughter Leslie Gilbert-Lurie, Rita co-authored Bending Toward the Sun, a Mother and Daughter Memoir. A beautifully written family memoir, Bending Toward the Sun explores an emotional legacy—forged in the terror of the Holocaust—that has shaped three generations of lives. Leslie Gilbert-Lurie tells the story of her mother, Rita, who like Anne Frank spent years hiding from the Nazis, and whose long-hidden pain shaped both her daughter and granddaughter’s lives. Bringing together the stories of three generations of women, Bending Toward the Sun reveals how deeply the Holocaust lives in the hearts and minds of survivors and their descendants.
I am not sure which moved me more: the horrifying story of the reality Rita experienced hiding from the Nazis, or the rapt attention our young people gave to Rita as she told her story.
Will they remember the story? Do they understand what really happened in the Holocaust? Can they stand as witnesses?
Only time will tell. We do our part making sure the stories are told, that the witnesses are heard. Then we hope and pray.
May the memory of the six million Jews and the five million others be for a blessing.