Most families have at least one great storyteller in their ranks. You know, the person who holds court on the holidays, entertaining and regaling others. That person. For me, it was my Poppa Jake. The twinkle in his eye. The emotion he imparted. The way his voice changed pitch. It didn’t matter if he was spinning out a nonsense tale or describing one of his travels, he held our rapt attention. Perhaps he’s the reason that I have always been fascinated by stories.

I’ve always been bothered by the end of the movie Titanic when only Rose, and not Jack, climbs on to the door in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean after the ship goes down. Despite the decades-long debates about this scene, the idea of clinging for survival is very relevant to Judaism, but in our case it’s the survival of faith.