If ever I needed an understanding of what all “this” is about, it happened to me in the Beth El chapel Sunday afternoon.
While most of my friends were “preparing” for Passover by searching for that elusive Honeynut Cheerio underneath a sofa cushion to rid their house of the slightest bit of chametz, I saw Passover happen for one of the few times in my life right before my eyes.
I was one of many blessed on Sunday to witness the baby naming of Joss Eskedar and Bronsten Muluken Buerger.
My colleague and friend Andrew Buerger, who I have known since he was a teenager, and his beautiful wife and partner Jennifer brought their 10-month-old children to the bima to receive their Hebrew names.
Their journey to Baltimore originated from their birthplace, a small village near the Nile. The Buergers literally touched the same waters that our people escaped as slaves to become free.
On the week before Passover, we learn that the beautiful Joss Eskedar’s Hebrew name is Shoshana (Rose).
Her sweet brother Bronsten Muluken’s name is Evan (Stone).
At the naming’s conclusion, Rabbi Dana Saroken wrapped the Buerger family in a tallis and said the blessing that like a laser beam hones into my entire connection to Judaism on several levels.
Her prayer, “May HaShem Bless You and safeguard you. May Hashem illuminate His countenance for you and be gracious to you. May HaShem turn His countenance to you and establish peace for you.”
It is a prayer that Jennifer and Andrew will remember to say, I’m sure, every Friday night at their Shabbat dinner table to their children.
When I was a 13-year-old nervous bar mitzvah boy, there on the bima of Temple Emanuel, my dad Morton Jacobs, put his hands over my head and said this prayer. It was the first time I’d ever heard him say a Hebrew prayer. He always told me he was an atheist, yet with Rabbi Gus Buchdahl’s help, he left me with a memory I carry always.
When my daughter DeDe was born in 1983 after her naming, I would occasionally say this prayer to her while we were taking on more Jewish traditions. The tipping point happened, though, when we were invited to the home of then a middle aged empty nest couple while we were living in Detroit. Just before Shabbat started, a young woman (their married daughter) came into their house. Without a word spoken she walked to her father and bowed her head. Our host said the words that my dad had said to me and that Rabbi Saroken blessed the Buerger family with.
It was a moment in my life that made my soul cry in a grateful way.
To this day, my two daughters, DeDe and Emily even if they aren’t home with us for Shabbos, will call us on the phone prior to Shabbos for their blessing. DeDe and her husband, Rabbi Yaakov Komisar bless my grandson Shalom Chanania Tuvia every Friday night in the same tradition. It is our connection, our continuity, our line of Jewish strength in our family. While it is a blessing for my two daughters, they have no idea that it is the most important minutes of my entire week. We all are navigating life’s travails. When you are able to say to your child, “May HaShem bless you and safeguard you,” in a joyful voice, you have achieved a true moment of Sabbath, of rest, of peace.
With Passover coming up on Monday night, we look inside ourselves for freedom points, for ways to overcome obstacles that keep us in our own personal bonds of slavery.
When the Buerger family sits down Monday night for their seder, they won’t have to look far to see what they have accomplished. With everything going on in this crazy world, we have before us two miracles in Bronsten and Joss.
We have the Passover story in real time. Two children saved from a possible life of poverty and brought into the Buerger family, and the family of Judaism as well.
We sing at the end of each seder, “Next Year in Jerusalem.”
For the Buerger family, and the rest of us who were blessed to share in Sunday’s baby naming, a little bit of Jerusalem, is here, right here.
May Hashem bless us all this Passover season. May Bronsten and Joss know already that for me, my Passover has already been made joyous.

Phil, I will never forget those Friday nights when you treated me like your own daughter and blessed me as well.