After Bondi - Leaders’ self-care and service

It is 5 am in New York, and I can’t sleep. I awoke feeling highly alert from a disturbing, relatively mundane but vivid dream about feeling frantic and let down. Wide awake, I take a moment to reflect on what is going on for me these days.

My initial response to the Bondi Beach Hanukkah massacre was a mixture of sadness and responsibility. I showed up for the bereaved and did what I could to address the challenge of Muslim-Jewish relations in Sydney and Australia. However, leaving Sydney and having a break from work with my family in New York has proved challenging some of the time. There is sometimes a sense of unreality about everything that is not the horror of what happened or the work that flows from it. At such moments, I feel alienated.

Creative Commons 4.0 image credit: 
https://www.mentalhappy.com/blog/holiday-priorities-dont-leave-self-care-off-your-list

On Friday night, my nephew, Chaim Kastel, a member of one of the bereaved families, talked at the Shabbat dinner table with my parents and other extended family, about the inspiring response of the Sydney Rabbis, about their service to the community, setting aside any differences or conflicts and rising to the challenge of caring for a community shattered by violence and tragedy. His words moved me to gratitude.

To all my rabbinical colleagues, I thank you and acknowledge your service. It is not easy or clear how to be there for others when you and your families are in pain. Thank you to my brother Mendel, working for the best outcomes for bereaved families and for culturally and religiously appropriate practices for the dead.  This is only a fraction of what you have done. I salute you, older brother, and I celebrate all the Rabbis for everything they have done and are doing.

For me, having (mostly and temporarily) stepped away from “the doing”, I feel a jumble of feelings that are hard to isolate. Anger, as well as sadness. I am not sure where my anger is directed. I have angry thoughts about God. It is ok to feel frustrated with God in the Jewish tradition, particularly in the Chabad school of thought. I will never forget the echoes of the Hebrew word for “Why?” (“Lamah?” “Lamah?”) echoing off the hills at the funeral of Mumbai couple Rabbi Gabi and Rivki Holzberg, murdered by terrorists. The question was posed by Rabbi Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi, (1943-2015, then Chief Rabbi of Kfar Chabad, Israel). We don’t accept the argument that human atrocities are just the choices of humans. Our theology teaches that God is present in human events, even if he “hides his face” (1).

I feel drawn to the complaint of Moses after he sent to Pharaoh to solve the problem of the suffering Hebrew slaves. At first, Pharaoh’s response to Moses’ efforts was to make life even harder for the slaves by removing their supply of straw that they needed for building but demanding that they still build as much as before, and when they failed to do the impossible, they were to be beaten (2). The Israelites expressed their annoyance to Moses who then turned to God with the complaint, “Why – (Lamah) have you done bad to this people? And why did you send me (3)”.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe wrote that regardless of God’s response to Moses – that things would improve – the fact that the Torah records Moses’ complaint reflects a degree of legitimacy of that complaint (4). As Jews we are required to believe that God is good and that everything is ultimately for the best, yet we are allowed to cry out in pain about human suffering.

Moses’ complaint seems to have two parts. One was about the people’s suffering, and the second part was about the impact on him as a leader having been sent on a failed mission. Leaders often show great care for others, but we are still human. The pain of failure or the absence of hoped-for achievements is not only an experience in sharing the community’s pain; it also carries a personal cost of frustration and distress.

For me, Bondi was a nightmare that I dreaded could happen and was hoping could be prevented. The failure to prevent it does not make me feel guilty, but it weighs heavily on me as a personal disappointment.

The personal disappointment is a little embarrassing. “It is not about you,” chastises my inner critic. I agree that the suffering of bereaved families is more important than my feelings, and so is the greater suffering of the Jewish community in Sydney and other impacted communities. Yet, I feel what I feel and I am as worthy of care as anyone else. In addition, if I am going to be useful to anyone, I need to acknowledge how I feel and process these feelings.

I draw comfort from commentaries about Moses’ frustration at his involvement (5) in an apparently futile attempt to alleviate the suffering of the slaves. “If they were not going to be saved why involve me in this?” Alternatively, he complained about the timing of his mission when he said, “Why send me now if God is not ready to free the people at this time?” (6)

There are other commentaries that explain Moses’ complaint as being focused on the suffering of the people rather than on himself (7), such as his question, “If sending me was not going to help the people anyway, what was the point?” In other words, Moses had hoped that his mission would reduce the suffering of his people a little, right away. When this failed to eventuate, Moses asked why he was sent if there was no immediate relief. (8)

For leaders, it needs to be about both the people we serve and our own self-care and management. I hope that my colleagues and I do what we need to do to look after ourselves and our emotions. At the same time, along with my inspiring colleagues, I will be there for others and do what I can for a better future. Moses eventually saw the exodus come to fruition and also worked through his personal challenges.

 

1)    Deuteronomy 18:31

2)    Exodus, 5:6- 5:21

3)    Exodus 55:11

4)    Schnneerson, Rabbi MM, Likutei Sichos Vol 1, Shemos.

5)    Seforno, Bechor Shor,

6)    Ohr Hachayim, one explanation, the Netziv in Haamek Davar

7)    Ohr Hachayim alternative explanation

8)    Ralbag, Ibn Ezra, Chizkuni

 

 

 

   

Bondi. Approaches

It is less than two weeks after the horrific events at Bondi. I cannot fully grasp, much less describe, the impact on the families of those murdered; on the orphans, the widows, the bereaved parents and siblings, the injured, those who experienced the terror at the event and on all Australian Jews. To all of you, I have no words of comfort. Instead, all I can offer is my empathy, my care, and for many just a hug.

Last Wednesday, I attended two funerals: those of inspiring young Rabbi Eli Schlanger – my sister-in-law’s brother, and Rabbi Yaakov Levitan, the husband of a young woman I have known since she was 10 years old. She taught in the Sunday school I led when she was a teenager and taught my children more recently as an adult.

We are all shaken by the sheer horror of the fact that they were murdered along with 13 others, including 10-year-old Matilda. I witnessed the grief of bereaved children. The atrocity screams to the heavens. I have been alternating between hyper-focused work and being dazed, leaving my car keys …

In addition to my personal connections with victims and their families, there is the fact that for almost 25 years I have worked to improve Jewish-Muslim relations. In more recent years, perhaps for a decade, I began to worry that something like Bondi would happen and I hoped that my work might prevent it. Alas, it has not.

According to the Torah, in some cases of murder, the elders of that place must wash their hands and proclaim, “Our hands have not spilled this blood” (1). The intent of this declaration is that it follows introspection about what the elders might have done to prevent the conditions that made murder possible. Did they ensure that visitors were escorted safely when they left, went on their way? (2).  

In the days after the massacre, I asked myself – briefly - if I could say that my hands were clean, “..that I had not spilled this blood.” My answer is “Yes. I did what I could based on what I knew and the opportunities I had.” Unfortunately, in hindsight, it is clear that we had not ensured conditions to prevent these multiple murders and so much harm to many others.  

Where to from here? There will be various approaches that leaders and individuals will need to choose from. Indeed, the Torah reading this week is named, “He approached.” (3)

One interpretation of the word “approached” is to approach for “war” (4). When innocents are harmed, it is both natural and appropriate for people to feel anger. A former student asked me what should we do with the anger? My reply is to channel it. Anger is a gift, if it is harnessed to right wrongs. It is a curse if it is diffuse and causes harm to innocents instead of protecting innocents. This is true even if it is well-intentioned. Anger that is misdirected leads to poor outcomes. 

The approaches of peace and conciliation are also mentioned by the commentaries (5). An example of this is the celebration of the hero, Ahmed El Ahmed, a Muslim man from Syria, who risked his life to save other lives. My brother Mendel and I visited him. Mendel gave him a personally and spiritually significant gift. I said only two words to him. “Yes” in response to his humble question about the expressions of gratitude, “Do I deserve this?” “Yes”, I said emphatically. I added the word “Shukran”, the Arabic word for “thank you”.

There is the approach of comforting the mourner (6). Several Imams came to offer their condolences to the senior judge of the Sydney Beth Din (Jewish religious court), Rabbi Yehoram Ulman, whose son-in-law was killed. On the Imams Council’s Facebook page, they have the message that “the grief, distress, and deep sense of insecurity felt within the Australian Jewish community are fully acknowledged, and our solidarity and compassion are unequivocally affirmed.” (7)

In an interview on Channel 10, I shared how Australians of all walks of life have rallied, as we have before in times of tragedy. The outpouring of sympathy from people of all faiths and none has been non-stop. A Catholic bishop, many Muslim friends and leaders, and a former Together For Humanity colleague - and a Muslim - who worked with us two decades ago. To all who expressed support, from across Australia and as far away as Iraq, thank you, shukran. 

A final interpretation of the one Biblical word “approached” is to examine (8). For many people, this is a time of confusion and examination. We are asking how we find our way to a sense of safety and cohesion. How do we properly understand our neighbours from other faith backgrounds? Their intentions toward us? How do we navigate the advice of the Proverbs that one heart responds to the sentiments of the heart of another (9). How do we navigate the advice of the sages to “respect him and suspect him” (10). It is not going to be easy, but that is part of the journey of trust.  

For me, alongside the grief, I draw inspiration from acts of courage, from Ahmed and from Chaya, one of the injured girls who risked her life walking into the line of fire and getting shot so she could shield two younger children, and the beautiful spirits of the departed. We will not be defeated, we respond to all forms of hatred, including but not limited to, antisemitism, terrorism and dehumanisation, with a fierce determination to defeat hate. Let us instead approach each other with curiosity, to really know one another.  

 

Sources

1)    Deuteronomy 21:7

2)    Talmud Sotah 45b

3)    “Vayigash”, Genesis 44:18 and on to 47:27

4)    Bereshit Rabba 93

5)    Bereshit Rabba ibid

6)    Bereshit Rabba ibid

7)    https://www.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1316378170530805&id=100064759026797&mibextid=wwXIfr&rdid=NgqMZJdvqb2SNXIr#

8)    Midrash Hagadol, and Chemdat Yamim, cited in Torah Shlaima, p. 1631, note 49

9)    Proverbs 27:19

10)  Popular saying based on Derech Eretz Rabba 5

Difficult Dialogue with Dignity and Care (Jacob and Laban)

Photo from easy-peasy.ai

 A Jewish woman told me recently that her family was torn apart because of how they dealt with their differing opinions about current terrible events. Matters of life and death are certainly worth arguing about, passionately. If they can save a single human life – Palestinian or Israeli, it is more than worth it. However, many of the arguments that destroy relationships don’t advance justice, life, safety or peace. Instead, they inhibit thoughtful discussion that might otherwise achieve these very noble aims. This conundrum concerns me enough to leave my family for Shabbat to spend it with the Newtown Synagogue community to talk about difficult dialogue with dignity and care. In this blog post I share are few of the thoughts that I plan to speak about.

Care. The first element in having a challenging conversation while maintaining a relationship is to care deeply about and really see the other person, not just their opinion or argument. From care, respect flows naturally.

A stance of not knowing. One aspect of feeling affirmed in dignity, is to be understood in the way you understand yourself. For this to be work it is best that when we enter a conversation, we adopt a stance of not knowing (1). We put aside everything we think we know about what the other person is telling us and just listen deeply to exactly what they are telling us. We avoid filling in the gaps in what we are hearing with assumptions. When we ask clarifying questions, we use the exact words of the speaker. For example, if someone tells us they are reluctant to visit a place; we don’t ask if they are afraid. Instead, we ask, “What feelings or thoughts do you have about this place that make you reluctant to go there?”

Recognise the layers. Difficult conversations have three layers (2). There is the surface conversation about “what happened”. There is the emotional conversation about how we feel that is sometimes hidden. The most interesting layer is the identity conversation. This is the part where two people try to get each other to agree that they are the “good one” and the other party is the villain.  

Ensure you are ok. To manage an identity conversation, it helps not to be at war with oneself. If we are plagued by intense self-doubt, then just one harsh accusation from another person can trigger deep shame, as our inner critic finds an external ally, both giving us hell in unison. That shame might be subconscious and manifest as anger and animosity. ‘How dare you make me feel so bad’. However, if we have leaned into and thought through our dilemmas and are somewhat ok with our inner conflict, we will be less easily hurt or triggered. Being vulnerable and sharing vulnerability can be beautiful, and is quite different to being at war with oneself.    

Experience Close. On Sunday 16 November, groups of Christians, Jews and Muslims gathered in Sydney to participate in “listening circles” organised by the Abraham Conference with some assistance from Together For Humanity. We were invited to share our feelings about what has happened over the last two years. It was raw, honest, vulnerable and connecting.  Participants did not self-censor. Yet, there was no drama or hostility. Yishai Shalif (1) writes about the importance of speaking from what he calls an “experience close” perspective. If people care about each other they are interested in what the other person has experienced and it can bring them together.

Let us consider how principles of difficult dialogue play out in the story of Jacob and his uncle Laban.

Jacob was tortured by self-doubt about deceiving his dying father by impersonating his older brother Esau (3). The deception allowed Jacob to get blessings from his father that were intended for the first-born, but Jacob was not sure if he was blessed or cursed (4). Jacob had done it reluctantly, under duress – his mother insisted on it (5), “walking bent over (typical body language expressing shame) and crying” (6).  

With this inner conflict still unresolved, Jacob was an easy target of Laban. Laban had deceived Jacob into marrying his older daughter Leah, instead of her younger sister Rachel, who Jacob loved and who was promised to him (7).  When Jacob realised that he had been tricked, he complained to Laban, who then went on the offensive. Instead of acknowledging his own dishonesty, Laban attacked Jacob, stating that in “our place” (with our “superior values”), we don’t allow the younger sibling to usurp the rights of the first born (8). Laban highlighted Jacob’s own deception relating to siblings. Laban effectively turned Jacob into the villain (9). This is an easy move to use against people plagued by self-doubt.

After Jacob was chastised, his uncle Laban manipulated him into working for him, far from home, for 14 years.

One of the worst parts of the story for me is when Jacob, at his wits end after all this time, asked his father-in-law Laban for permission to go home. “Send me, and I will go to my place, and my land.” (10)  Jacob told his uncle, “You know my work, that I served you.” (11)  Jacob argued that his work ethic was so strong he would succeed anywhere (12).  If Laban cared about Jacob, he would have shown interest in Jacob’s desire to be in “his place”, and also validated his assumption that he knew how hard Jacob had worked. If he had a shred of humanity, this was the time to be gracious and wish Jacob well. Instead, Laban carried on about his own business interests and how Jacob was useful to him and failed to acknowledge Jacob’s hard work and his longing to be in his rightful place.

Laban failed to care or listen with heart. This led to his family disintegrating and his daughters turning away from him (13). Regrettably, there are some people too wrapped up in themselves to sustain family ties. When interacting with them, it is important to protect oneself from harm.

Jacob, too, eventually, leans into his usurpation of his brother’s place as the first born and his deception of his father and comes to terms with himself in a dramatic struggle with an angel (14). Not long after this “encounter with the angel”, he met his brother Esau from whom he had run away from two decades earlier and they embrace (15). How Jacob achieved a reconciliation with his brother is a longer story, but the fact that he did shows that there is hope for reconciliation in families after bitter disputes.  

 

References

1)    Shalif, Y, Liviatan, I, Paran, R, (2007) “Care-full Listening and Conversations. Creating Dialogue between Members of Conflicting Multi-Cultural Groups”, Israel Ministry of Education.

2)    Stone, D., Patton, B., & Heen, S. (2023). Difficult conversations: How to discuss what matters most (Third edition, fully updated and revised). Penguin Books

3)    Genesis 27, Abarbanel commentary on Vayetze, Lamm, N, (2012), Derashot Ledorot, Maggid Books, New York, p. 148

4)    Abarbanel commentary on Vayetze,

5)    Genesis 27:6-13

6)    Midrash Rabba

7)    Genesis 29:18-25

8)    Genesis 29:26,

9)    Beis Halevi, (1990), Oliner Edition, Herczeg, p. 125

10) Genesis 30:25

11) Genesis 30:26

12) B’eer Mayim Chayim

13) Genesis 31:14-16

14) Genesis 32:25-29. Also, see commentary of Maimonides in the Guide for the Perplexed.

15) Genesis 33:4

 

Judgement and Matchmaking

“I really don’t know her,” was the reply on WhatsApp from a Rabbi in New York about a woman who was suggested as a marriage partner for one of my sons. The Rabbi was listed on the young woman’s “Shidduch” (match-making) resumé as a reference. He was replying to my message from July 2024, about setting a time to do a reference check about a potential bride. The delayed response is a funny illustration of the challenges of Modern Orthodox Jewish matchmaking.

Jewish marriage is regarded as a sacred reunion between two half souls, separated prior to birth (1). It is the fulfilment of divine design that “a man will leave his mother and father and cleave to his wife, and will become as one flesh.” (2) The tomb in which Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca and other Jewish forebears were buried was named the “double cave” because the couples buried there were profoundly united and became part of a set (3).  Abraham cried for his beloved Sarah when she died (4).   

Ultra-Orthodox Jewish matchmaking to set up such unions has changed in the 30 -plus years since I got married. At that time, a matchmaker who knew the two families made a suggestion. The parents of the prospective young couple made a few calls to check if the young man and woman had compatible values and goals and checked out the families.

I don’t know when it changed, but we now have the “Shidduch resumé”. Men and women prepare a resumé that lists where they went to school, Yeshiva (Talmudic college post high school) or girls Torah seminary, summer jobs, some will include a short description of their qualities and those they are seeking in a partner, and a list of names of references with their phone numbers.  The parents will usually make multiple reference calls before suggesting to the young couple that they consider meeting. If they agree, they begin a series of dates.

The Shidduch process involves serious judging, but with limited information. Some references are afraid to paint their friend in a bad light. Many times, I was told, “She is not the loudest person in the room … but she is not quiet either.” I have found that it was often the little anecdotes that gave me a sense of the prospective partner’s values and character.

There is a great precedent for that. When Abraham’s servant was seeking to find a match for his master’s son Isaac, he focused on observing how helpful Rebecca was at a well. When she offered him and his camels water to drink, he decided she was a suitable wife (5).

We might feel uncomfortable making judgments; as Pirkei Avot teaches us, “Do not judge another person until you have been in their situation.” (6) However, the rules are different when there is a legitimate purpose for the judging. Choosing to spend one’s life together with another person (or advising a son or daughter about this) involves a judgement about how that person measures up against one’s own most cherished values, principles and ideals.

It sounds very unromantic but the initial part of orthodox Jewish matchmaking is similar to recruitment to fill a position in a work context. The critical question in both cases is, is it a good fit?  

In both cases there is a risk that emotion will cloud our judgement. Nobel Prize winner Daniel Kaheneman (6) writes about one way to stuff up an interview process. If you do the emotional stuff first, you might feel good about a candidate because they are similar to you, even if they lack the skills for the job. The emotional connection creates a bias. To avoid that problem, he suggests, do the boring bits first. In the Shidduch process, some young people will want to know more about the person to decide if it is a likely fit before looking at the photo and being swayed by someone’s appearance.

This might sound like a hit-or-miss approach, but if we apply Kahenman’s logic to matchmaking it is more likely to work than being guided by emotions alone.

Once the couple are deemed likely to be technically compatible, they then need to work out if they are emotionally drawn to each other.

Another element in all this is the idea of “Bashert” – that the couple are divinely destined for each other.

In the case of Isaac and Rebbecca, the match certainly seemed “bashert”. They got married and the Torah states that Isaac loved Rebecca (7).

In addition to Rebecca being a kind and sensitive woman, she was a good fit for another reason. Isaac was a reserved man who spoke little and is associated with judgement. Rebecca’s character is also associated with judgement (8). She made a snap judgment (10) about going ahead with the proposed marriage with Isaac; without hesitation, she simply said, “I will go” (11). When her husband seemed to be fooled about his eldest son’s character, because of the delicious meat Esau brought her from his hunt, Rebecca discerned the truth about both her sons (12). 

The marriage between Rebecca and Isaac was not one of constant agreement or acquiescence (13). But there was love and care, based on a sound foundation of compatibility, discovered through sound judgement.

Returning to the young woman who was the subject of the delayed WhatsApp message, at the time of my evaluation process, I was fortunate to get through to most if not all of the other eight references listed on the resumé. They provided enough information for my wife and me to suggest to my son that he should meet her. After the young people spent time dating, they made a decision by using their heads and their hearts. They are now happily married.

1)       https://www.chabad.org/parshah/article_cdo/aid/2634/jewish/The-Half-Shekel-of-Marriage.htm

2)       Genesis 2:24  

3)       Genesis 23:1

4)       The Shaloh on Chayei Sarah

5)       Genesis 24:12-20

6)       Pirkey Avot 2:4

7)       Kahneman, D., (2021) Noise, William Collins

8)       Genesis 24:67

9)       The Shaloh on Chayei Sarah

10)    Genesis 24:55

11)    Gladwell, M, (2005), Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking

12)    Genesis 25:25 and commentary

13)    Genesis 27, Shlomo Riskin 

Breaking Bread with Bishops and the Dialogue of Being and Hospitality

Humans relate better to those we categorise as friends or kin, and we can develop such connections as much – or even more- by being together than by talking. On Tuesday night, a large number of Catholic bishops and Jewish leaders had a meal together. I found it inspiring and challenging.

Bishop Greg Homeming, an older man with glasses, dressed in a very simple brown monk’s robe and sandals, spoke to us about his experiences of friendship and breaking bread with Jewish people. In his anecdotes and sincerity, he demonstrated the importance of being together.

The bishop shared his experience of having Shabbat dinner with a Jewish family. After the meal, they all began shouting at each other. His own cultural heritage is Chinese, and the lively arguing that was normal for this family of Jewish-Lithuanian culture was new and interesting for him. I have developed a friendship with this bishop, but there was another rabbi there with whom he had developed a close bond over many years. I observed them from a distance during dinner. They were in animated conversation like old friends. This was a man who walked his talk.

The bishop’s hospitality was outstanding. They organised kosher catering for us. Delicious salmon, purple and orange carrots, roast potatoes, salad, humous, fruit and two types of cake for dessert. The company was lovely, chatting about various experiences, including how bishops are appointed and visiting people in prison among other matters. As I was leaving, a bishop who had had breakfast with my son and me in July 2024 at a kosher café remembered my son’s name and asked how he was. It was an outstanding evening.

Yet, I felt a bit restless. I believe passionately in the importance of “being”, as in being present and being the best version of ourselves, as opposed to just doing important tasks. Yet, I am a product of three cultures that emphasise activity. Judaism teaches us that “action is the main thing” (1); Chabad Hasidism, under the leadership of its last Rebbe, urged relentless and urgent activism and I am a child of New York, a city that never sleep or stops hustling. I was in a room full of leaders who were responsible for the education of hundreds of thousands of children, teachers and believers and it was such an opportunity to work, yet we sat like a bunch of people without a care in the world. This was because the dialogue of being was very important for all of us. There is also something Christian (or Catholic) about the experience I had that night, that moved me even if I can’t fully articulate it.

The intersection between being, doing and hospitality plays out in the story of Abraham who was “being” inspired and elevated by a divine revelation (2). Despite the loftiness of this experience, Abraham intentionally (3) shifted his attention from the divine visitation to an opportunity to offer hospitality to passing travellers (4).  This choice is justified in the Talmud as a principle that welcoming guests is greater than receiving the divine presence, the Shechina (5).

The prioritisation of hospitality over spiritual ecstasy could be understood as prioritising doing over being. This missed the idea that for Abraham being hospitable was a deeply moving and joyful (6) experience. Abraham’s enthusiasm can be seen in the way his whole family was enlisted in feeding the travellers and the five references to speed, rushing and running in describing the preparation (7). It helps to contrast the hospitality of Abraham’s nephew Lot (8) with that of Abraham. While both men insisted that their reluctant guests join them, in Lot’s case, there was no reference to speed or any member of his family joining in (9).  

As I reflect on the hospitality, fellowship, friendship and food offered to me last night by new and old friends, I acknowledge a precious gift and I recommit to the value of being, and the practice of the dialogue of being. Not all dialogue involves words.  This is beautifully put in a psalm: “There is no talking, without their voices being heard. [Yet], in all of the earth, their message goes forth, their ‘words’ to the very edges of the world.”  (10)

1)    Ethics of the Fathers 1:17

2)    Genesis 18:1

3)    Rabbi Simcha Zisl of Kelm

4)    Genesis 18:2

5)    Talmud, Shavuot 35b.

6)    The Baal Shem Tov comment relating to Genesis 18:19

7)    Genesis 18:6-8

8)    Genesis 19:1-3

9)    Hattin, M., Vayera | Life's Concentric Circles, https://etzion.org.il/en/tanakh/torah/sefer-bereishit/parashat-vayera/vayera-lifes-concentric-circles

10) Psalm 19:4-5