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I have always been awestruck that mathematics accurately describes the physical world. Why should Einstein’s equations of general relativity map precisely to gravity and curved spacetime? Why should Maxwell’s equations map precisely to electricity and magnetism? There’s a grand plan, and I believe that God is its source.
–Milt Hess

I paint – not especially well, but enough to be an outlet, to help me process. In January, when I was finding it particularly hard to sleep, I started working on small illustrations of the names of women and girls murdered on 10/7 and killed in the bombings in Gaza in the months since.

Looking up translations, working on these little memorials, I kept thinking: What florid, gorgeous names we give our daughters. How poetic we all become when we name a baby girl in honor of G-d’s creation: Evening sky. Damask rose. Desert plant.

And specifically (at least in my amateur effort at researching name origins) how similar, the meanings of these Arabic names and Hebrew. Of course they are: The words describe the same natural beauty of the same land. I think about how generations of parents Israeli and Palestinian, Jews and Muslims, have felt G-d’s presence looking at the same water, the same palms, the same light, and blessed their daughters in its image.

It reminds me that our respective claims and attachment to this same land, arguably the cause of the violence that ended these beautiful lives, is also the wellspring of our connection to each other. Honestly, I don’t know how we get from where we are now to a future of coexistence on that land – war is so insidious in how it makes hope seem naive. But memorializing these evocative names reminded me of experiencing G-d’s presence in Israel, and it reminds me, too, to be hopeful. To nurture a vision where my son (who radiates light like his own Hebrew name) experiences it, too, watching the sunrise break over Masada and the glitter path undulating on the Dead Sea, in a version of the future where, out of all this loss and retribution, grows a peace worthy of the beauty of the land.
–Anonymous

On the 16th day of the Omer we talked about Hatikvah (‘The Hope’), Israel’s national anthem. Here is a moving recording, captured on April 15th, 1945 of Jews singing Hatkivah at the recently liberated Bergen-Belsen concentration camp.
–Omer Bot

Given our topic includes hope, it seems appropriate to explore Hatikvah. This is Israel’s National Anthem and the title translates to ‘The Hope’.

This article explores Hatikvah:

https://jewishunpacked.com/hatikvah-the-story-behind-the-anthem/

A few highlights include:

The words for Hatikvah come from a 9 stanza poem written in 1886 by Naftali Hertz Imber.

The words were put to music in 1888 by Samuel Cohen. The tune is very strongly inspired by by Moldavian song, “Carol cu boi.”

Over the years, Hatikvah has truly been a source of hope. There are documented cases of Jews singing the song at concentration camps during World War II.

Hatikvah only became the official national anthem of Israel in 2004(!).

If you’re critical of Hatikvah, you’re in good company. Orthodox Jews are unhappy it doesn’t mention G-d or the Torah. Some liberal Israeli’s are offended that Hatikvah talks about the hope of a homeland when one already exists. And Arab Israeli’s feel excluded by the lyrics. Theodor Herzl disliked it so much, he launched a number of international contests to find a better anthem.

Learn More at: https://jewishunpacked.com/hatikvah-the-story-behind-the-anthem/
–Omer Bot

I recently attended a birthday dinner for an old friend. With only a few days’ notice, she had gathered together about 20 close friends from different areas of her life. Some of these friends she had met while traveling around the world. As we sat and talked, everyone with whom I interacted had an inspiring story of how they are working to make the world better, or passionate ideas and hopes about how to heal the world and bridge the human divides. It left me feeling a bit better about the state of humanity to remember that there are many people who are striving for the greater good, and many more with whom we can find common ground in our shared humanity.
–Suzanne Gold

Sometimes I get this extraordinary and goosebumpy feeling, usually during Yom Kippur or Rosh Hashana, that the community I’m in is a part of something incredible, both temporally or spatially. That we are davening in a manner recognizable by Jews for two thousand years and, going forward, will be for as long as we have a world to daven in. And that, allowing for a scattering due to time zones, Jewish communities circling the globe are saying the same words at the same time. There is immense hope for me in this. Not a hope FOR something so much as more generalized faith in something powerful.
–Rav Amelia

I love the beauty of spring flowers in the garden. Hellebores come first. Then crocus and forsythia to daffodils to tulips; now dogwood and next azalea and rhododendron. In between, the bleeding hearts, hyacinth and others. The light passing through translucent petals and the scent are marvelous. And that’s just the beginning of the season

–Jeanne

I’ve been listening to a podcast recently called LeVar Burton Reads, in which he reads short stories and shares a few personal thoughts about the authors and narratives. Something about hearing this guy who I feel like I have a connection with, from Roots, to Reading Rainbow, to Star Trek: The Next Generation, and his passion for storytelling, discovering meaning, and interpreting stories in a hopeful way, just inspires me and gives me hope that there’s still so much to be discovered in the world. That’s a lot from a 22 minute podcast episode!

Learn More at: https://www.levarburtonpodcast.com/
–Anoynmous