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Niney-three million miles. That’s the distance between planet Earth and the sun. This fact is on my list of things to thank Hashem for on these sweltering days of summer. I shudder to think what would happen if the Earth moved just half a mile closer to the sun, placing us just 92,999,999.5 miles away. One thing is certain: Oven companies would be out of business as they would be rendered obsolete relics of the world as it existed before climate change. People would be able to cook anywhere and everywhere in the great outdoors, posing a challenge to keeping milk and meat separate. Members of the new generation seeing old-fashioned ovens on display in museums would wonder why there was ever a need to put a second oven inside an existing one. It would be similar to placing an aquarium inside the ocean. Superfluous. We are so lucky that our planet is positioned where it is. It’s not that hot. We just melt a bit here and there. This is what I keep telling myself during our current global broken weather situation that has led to record-breaking temperatures worldwide.

The year was 1948, in the midst of the War of Independence. While the city of Yerushalayim was besieged by enemies and short on food, water, and other supplies, Israelis tried to live as normally as possible.

I was (and still am) a huge fan of The London School of Jewish Song, also known as the London Pirchei. When I happily attended their concerts as a kid, I would prop myself up as high as I could on my seat so I could get an unobstructed view of the choreography, the hand motions, and Yigal Calek, the choirmaster, flitting back and forth across the stage. Public service announcement for any fellow London Pirchei fans out there: You can watch their recent London Pirchei reunions on YouTube.

Two weeks ago, I woke up to a rattling WhatsApp message sent to our family chat by a family member whom I love dearly, but… There was a photo of a group of people davening at Kever Yosef along with a reassuring comment stating that we can be calm – they had already exited Shechem. This was followed by a comment from another family member, whom I also love dearly, who congratulated the original poster (and, yes, I do still love him, in case you were wondering) for providing all of this exciting information after the fact.

Stamp! Pause …….. Stamp! ...................... Very long pause. Stamp! These were the sounds we heard over the loudspeaker at the Misrad HaPnim (Ministry of the Interior) when we first made aliyah in August 1998, before the days of Nefesh B’Nefesh.

We dip the apple in the honey and savor its sweetness, hoping for a sweet year. We blow the shofar to awaken ourselves to do t’shuvah. We eat maror to remind us of the bitterness we experienced when we were slaves in Mitzrayim. As frum Jews, we live a life that’s filled with symbols.