When I tell folks that I live just three houses away from HEA, they tend to give me a look of either delight or dismay. Those who exude enthusiasm remark, “How convenient it is for you and your family to live so close to the synagogue, especially with such young children!” On the other hand, those who give me a look of sympathy or concern question, “Do you have any privacy?”
The truth is that our family loves living down the street from the synagogue for walkability and convenience, but also because the warm and personable community of HEA now extends from 3600 South Ivanhoe to our doorsteps. Just yesterday, I was walking home from work with several heavy bags, when a member of our community graciously offered to help me carry my belongings to my home. Although I was “making it work,” I really did need the help. Likewise, when we first moved to Denver in July, we were overwhelmed by the acts of hesed (loving-kindness) that we received from community members who stopped by our home with green beans from the HEA garden, homemade challah, clothes for our children, or heartfelt words of welcome.
In today’s world it is nearly taboo to knock on the door of another’s home. We do it on such rare occasions as trick-or-treating, selling Girl Scout cookies, or offering to shovel a neighbor’s driveway. The holiday of Purim offers us a special opportunity to safely break down barriers of isolation by delivering Mishloach Manot (meaning in Hebrew “sending gifts”) to the homes of each person in our HEA community. I am looking forward to driving (or walking) a few routes to visit those around us and engage in this meaningful mitzvah. I hope you are too. While we couldn’t possibility all live on the same street as many of our founders did on the Westside, we can feel as if we do on Purim through the practice of Mishloach Manot.
I’ll close by sharing a relevant and beloved memory of when Lielle and I were biking around town to deliver Mishloach Manot back in California. We stopped at a gentleman’s house and rang his bell, but there was no answer. Just as we were about to leave, we heard a voice calling to us from the garden. We made our way through the pea plants to find this elder member of our community motioning us to help him harvest his fava beans. We ended up spending the afternoon helping in his garden and snacking on vegetables straight from the vines as we chatted. I am not certain if we delivered all our Mishloach Manot bags that trip, but we did make a friend that day.
May we appreciate Purim anew this year as a holiday that invites us to come out of our homes and stretch ourselves in gift giving, in receiving, and in celebrating Jewish moments together. The purpose of Mishloach Manot, after all, is not consumption, but connection.
