Today, I want you to think out of the box. Why out of the box? Well, I guess it’s because we deal with so many boxes. For instance, who among us [Jews] doesn’t have memories of the blue and white pushkas, the Tzedakah Boxes? And everyone knows that giving charity is a holy mitzvah. How about the boxes that fulfill the Mitzvah of Donning the Tefillin? One box is to be inscribed between your eyes and one box is to be bound upon your arm … and, inside both of these boxes are holy words…

Even at the end of our days on Earth, we still have one last box to deal with … our casket, which will hold the holy vessel, the cask that held our spirit, our neshama, inside during our lifetime.

Oh, and there is another box that we have in our faith. In fact, it is the box, the hut, that we build for Sukkoth.

On Sukkoth many eat in a box, many sleep in a box, and, barring severe weather, will make the Kiddush and the Hamotzi in a box, a hut, a Sukkah. Rabbi Edythe Held Menscher recently wrote about a documentary film called, “G-d In The Box,” where a film crew took a portable studio, a box if you will, all over the country and asked people to step inside the box.

Now, if you are claustrophobic, being inside a box might not be such a good thing, so you might need to concentrate on a subject that would really occupy your mind … and, sure enough, the filmmaker asked just such a question. He asked, “What does G-d mean to you?” and “What does G-d look like?”

The studio, the box they went into, contained paper and pencil and a huge mirror; so each person had to take a good hard look at themselves.

Really looking at ourselves is not such an easy thing to do. Just ask those who spent Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur in honest self-reflection.

The funny thing is, as Rabbi Mencher points out, at the end of “G-d in The Box,” there are a series of photos of synagogues

of churches and of mosques because our Houses of Worship can be likened to a box, a box where we explore what G-d means to us and what G-d wants from us.

I was trying to figure out how to end this article. I went to the cupboard and took out a box of cereal and I noticed a very simple, yet very true thing. If I didn’t open up the box, I would never be nourished by the cereal inside. So, too, the Synagogue, my friends, so, too, the Sukkah … being in the box is a great way to quiet yourself down and focus on holy and G-dly things, but just thinking about things, just praying for things, is not enough. Let us have the saichel, the good common sense, to think out of the box and may it nourish us, our family, our friends and our community and let us say, Amen.

Shalom My Friends,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

If I were to talk to either of my brothers, it would not surprise me to find that they have purchased a new article of clothing for the Jewish New Year. It might be a suit, or a tie, or a shirt, but they will both have something new to wear.

And yet, the same time, they, and I, will be wearing something old. We might wear something that was from one of our parents of blessed memory – a tie, a ring, a watch, a tallit, a skull cap (better known as a kippah or a yarmulke).

You see, we maintain some of our parent’s traditions with some of what we wear, especially in regard to religious articles, but we also realize the importance of having something new, not just new clothes, but something new in our approach to Judaism.

Keeping some of the old and adding some new is not such a bad thing. In fact, it just might be a great way to enter the New Year with a new outlook.

Today, I would like to approach this focusing on one article that easily identifies one as Jewish. Let me introduce it with a story from a cartoon that appeared in an Israeli paper many years ago during a visit from the Pope in which the caption read, “The Pope is the one with the Yarmulke.”

Yarmulkes or, Kippot (in Hebrew), have come a long way from my zaide’s time. They come in all sorts of shapes and sizes – silk, knitted, crocheted, leather. They come with the logos of your favorite sports team. They come with pictures of super heroes, almost any design you can imagine can be put on a kippah now.

Some wear them all the time. Some only wear them in the Synagogue. Some wear them at work and some only at home. In Israel, you can actually tell someone’s religious leanings by the size and color of their Yarmulke, and, with the elections coming up here in America, don’t be surprised to see some of our people in blue and some in red, instead of the traditional white for the High Holy Days.

If you are walking out on the street, or going into a store, or heading into a meeting and you want people to know that you are Jewish, all you have to do is wear a Kippah … and, sadly, in many cases, you will be looked on with hate and scorn.

Back in Nazi Germany, wearing a Yarmulke could be a death sentence – a one-way ticket to the gas chambers. Well, let me tell you how things have stayed the same in the world and also how things have changed as we approach the New Year 5773. Rabbi Alter was wearing a Yarmulke walking down the streets in Vienna a few weeks ago and a group of antisemites beat him to a pulp.

As I said, some things haven’t changed. Some things remain the same and that is not always such a good thing. But, things have also changed and, sometimes, that is a very good thing, such as, after the attack, several residents of Berlin decided to show their support for the Rabbi and for the Jewish people by donning yarmulkes on their keppes… now that’s what I call using your noggin (using your head).

If non-Jews in Berlin can openly show solidarity with us by wearing Kippot, perhaps, in the year ahead, we will come to show more solidarity with each other and, if so, what a wonderful year this could be.

Shalom my friends,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and serves in this capacity in a number of Health Care settings in the area including Advocate Home Care Services and L’Chayim Jewish Hospice in Partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward County.

David Maymon is the owner of Advocate Home Care Services. As one of the team chaplains, along with Father Linus, I am usually with David and the Advocate Team every Monday morning.

It is a wonderful group of people from very diverse backgrounds who busy themselves all week long trying to make sure that the people they care for have the right aide and we try to insure that by asking one very important question that David insists on – “If that was my mother or father, would I be comfortable with that aide?” If we can answer “Yes” to that question, then, the vast majority of the time, we are going to be right on target and make a wonderful match.

Most of you are familiar with the story of Fiddler On the Roof. And you know all about Yenta the Matchmaker; well, in a way, that is exactly what we do at Advocate, only we do not try to arrange marriages; we try to arrange caring and loving partnerships.

David knows how effective famous quotes can be and he has a knack for coming up with just the right phrase for every situation. He also happens to have two particular quotes nicely framed and hanging on the wall where we hold our meetings, and, before our meetings are over, those quotes are read aloud, each teaching a very important lesson to carry with us through our work week and back to our homes.

The first quote comes from Ettiene De Grellet, a Quaker missionary, who said [paraphrased], “I shall pass this way but once; therefore, let any good that I can do or any kindness I can show to anyone … let me do it now for I shall not pass this way again.”

And then there is the other quote on the wall … this one by one of the most well-known athletes of all time, Muhammad Ali, a convert to the Muslim faith, who said, “The fight is won or lost far away from the witnesses, behind the lines, in the gym, and out there on the road long before I dance under those lights.” To Ali’s quote, if you want to win a battle, you had better be prepared and have the strength and skill that only intense training can give you.

David is a good soul, and he is also wise enough to know that wisdom comes from many places and that everyone has much they can teach us … and those two quotes he has hanging in the office are so true.

How often do we hold off on doing something special and loving? Perhaps, at this very moment, while you are reading these words, there is someone next to you who could really use your attention – a tender smile, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on.

Ali was right. The battle is won or lost long before we enter into it and De Grellet was right, we need to live in the moment and do whatever we are able to help others in need. And, David is right as well, and as he would so eloquently put it; “Reflect” and may you not only carry these words in your heart, but may you put them into action and may the actions you take be for a blessing.

The High Holy Days are soon approaching. Let us prepare for them by doing whatever we can to be of service.

Shalom my friends,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is the rabbi at Temple Beth Israel in Century Village of Deerfield Beach. During the week, he continues his work as a Hospice and Health Care Chaplain. He is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and of the Association of Professional Chaplains.

We had a patient at Catholic Hospice who happened to be of the Muslim faith. We did not have a Muslim cleric on staff and so it was that the chaplains from a fellow Mid-East faith … our rabbis … were called to find out if they had any contact within the local Islamic community.

It might surprise you to learn the rabbis did, indeed, have such contacts for chaplaincy and pastoral care issues, but, sadly, one contact could not be reached and the other had recently moved out of the area.

We did not feel comfortable sending a team chaplain rather than one of the same faith as the patient.

The patient’s father, a traditional Muslim, had traveled from a far-off land to be here at his son’s side and he wanted to make sure all was done according to his religious tradition. Now, here is where it could have gotten really complicated. You see, the patient’s wife was not Muslim. Theirs was an intermarriage. His wife was Catholic.

Thankfully, she agreed to respect her husband’s faith and showed great respect to her father-in-law as well. I must say, this was a nice change from having to deal with familial differences that often lead to horrific situations.

Our hospice rabbis went on a search far and wide. One of the people contacted happens to be the medical director at St. Johns, which is a part of Catholic Health Services. I don’t know if you have ever had the privilege of meeting Dr. Jules, but he is a mensch, a good-hearted soul … sweet as can be, and his heart is pure gold.

He happens to be a brother of the Muslim faith. I asked for his help in finding someone for our hospice patient and the patient’s family, to see that everything was done in a way that would give true comfort and respect to those under our care.

I let him know that the patient was not expected to survive more than a few days and, now, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story.

I ran into Dr. Jules the other day. He let me know that no fewer than 30 Muslim brothers, including Dr. Jules himself, went to visit this man and his family. They recited the proper prayers and performed the proper rituals and, when the time came, they made sure the person was buried per Muslim tradition.

But what really sent a glow through my heart and soul was when Dr. Jules told me that the father asked him how so many brothers found out about his son and Dr. Jules told him that it was because of the rabbi from Catholic hospice and, on hearing that, tears began to fall from the face of this traditional Muslim from a foreign land, who was facing the passing of his beloved son.

Imagine that … only in America can one find a rabbi working for The Diocese (with Catholic hospice) who finds a Muslim brother and, in the process, three faith groups come together to comfort a family facing the loss of a loved one.

Catholic, Jew, Muslim … dealing with our differences, respecting one another, working in tandem to provide comfort to all those under our care. That’s what chaplaincy is all about, that’s what Hospice is about. May G-d bless us one and all!

Shalom, salaam and peace my friends,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and serves in this capacity in a number of Health Care settings in the area including Advocate Home Care Services and L’Chayim Jewish Hospice in Partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward County.

There has been a wonderful movie in a few theatres in the area recently called “The Intouchables.” This was not “The Untouchables.” It had nothing to do with Elliot Ness or the old gangs that he cracked down on, and, it had nothing to do with India’s the “Untouchables,” those on the bottom of the social caste system there.

Then again, maybe it did. You see, the movie was about a man who was paralyzed below the neck, and, let’s face it, all too often, if someone is paralyzed, or ill, or way up in years, or, dare I say, “different,” many people are afraid, not just to touch them, but to have any contact with them at all.

“The Intouchables” was based on a true story about a very special relationship that develops between this man and the one he opts to take on as his private duty aide. His choice might surprise you, but the relationship that develops between them is something that never ceases to amaze me.

So often I am called in to try to get someone to see the importance of their getting a private duty aide; and, so often, the person I am talking to tells me a horror story about this or that friend or neighbor who hired someone who was awful, someone who was constantly on the phone building up an absurd long-distance bill and not paying attention to the person they were supposed to care for, someone who kept going out to get an item from the store, not to be seen or heard from again for hours at a time, someone who was mean and nasty, someone who lashed out and yelled at the very person they were supposed to be taking care of.

We’ve all heard such stories. People are quick to share such experiences with us. But, I get to see the other side of the coin. So often, just like in the movie, I have seen a love and compassion develop between a person and their caregiver… an unbreakable bond.

And, when such a bond exists, I have seen the caregiver yelled at in the midst of bad times, lashed out at in the midst of pain and frustration. But the angelic caregiver is able to miraculously see that the anger, the shouting and the screaming is not really directed at them; it is really about the situation the one under their charge is going through, as they often feel like the main character in “The Intouchables,” trapped in their own bodies, unable to lift a finger for themselves.

It was just a couple of weeks ago that we read the Biblical story of Moses being told by G-d to speak to a rock and that, when he would speak to it, water would miraculously flow and everyone would have their thirst quenched.

Sadly, Moses did not follow the directions quite as precisely as he should have. Instead of speaking to the rock, he lashes out at it. He hits it, not just once, but twice. Water still flows, but Moses had lost his patience in dealing with complaints. He lost his cool.

This loss of control over his anger keeps him from entering the Promised Land. You see, he did not have to lash out at the rock. He did not have to hit it to get water to flow and quench everyone’s thirst. All he had to do was speak to the rock.

Paul Simon wrote, “I am a Rock, I am an Island.” Sometimes, the people we work with or for seem to be just that. They seem to be a rock. Try speaking to the rock because Simon’s lyrics were wrong. Sometimes a rock does indeed feel pain.

Shalom My Friends,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and serves in this capacity in a number of healthcare settings in the area, including Advocate Home Care Services and L’Chayim Jewish Hospice in Partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward County.

If you look up the word “Independence” in the dictionary, you might find an archaic definition showing that the word refers to someone who is competent, someone who is able.

Of course, if you look up a very similar word – “independent,” you are more likely to see what you thought the other word independence meant: “not subject to control by others.” Then again, in Merriam Webster, you might also read “not bound by or committed to a political party.” Wow, there’s a definition of the word that probably surprises you.

I have been talking to a lot of people about this great country of ours lately, and, as I have done so, I have heard far too many people who are totally and utterly bound to a particular political party, much to the detriment of the entire country.

As a Rabbi, I cannot help but compare July 4th to the Exodus story in the Bible. You see, the story of the Exodus wasn’t just about personal freedom. It was about national freedom, and, while we rejoice in that great American document, the Declaration of Independence, July 4th isn’t just about individual independence. It is much more a celebration of our achieving national independence.

We, the American People, achieved independence from British tyranny. We no longer had to rely on Britain or British Rule. A new nation, a great nation, was born. But it is only if the various states of our nation, and the populace of each of those states, realize that it is what binds us together that makes the difference.

In the third verse of the Shema, we read about the Tzitzit, the fringes that are to be worn on the corners of our garments. When we read about the Tzitzit, we traditionally gather the fringes together in one hand. Let this be a reminder that, on this 4th of July (while we watch the fireworks displays together, whether we are white, black, yellow or brown … Jew, Christian, Muslim or Atheist … having come here from all corners of the Earth), we should focus less on our differences and more on what binds us together.

Let us think of Betsy Ross. She didn’t tear the material for the flag apart. No, she took individual pieces of material, separated by size, shape and color, and she sewed them. She bound them together.

Oddly enough, rather than Independence Day, perhaps we should be celebrating In-Dependence Day, for each one of us is a part of those Stars and Stripes – the Red, White and Blue … and maybe it is time for us to admit that we are dependent on one another, and this great country is dependent on each and every one of us.

As Neil Diamond wrote, “On a boat or on a plane, they’re coming to America.” I have talked with many people from overseas and, let me tell you something, there are still many people around the world who have the dream that we or our ancestors or our ancestor’s ancestors had. They long to be able to come to America. They long to raise their hand. They long to recite the oath that enables them to proudly say, “I am an American,” and with those simple words, they will feel more freedom then they have ever known.

May G-d Bless each of us and may He Bless these United States of America. Shalom my friends and a very happy 4th of July.

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and serves in this capacity in a number of Health Care settings in the area including Advocate Home Care Services and L’Chayim Jewish Hospice in Partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward County.

As a Chaplain for L’Chaim Jewish Hospice (in partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward and Dade Counties), I have watched how people say goodbye to a loved one. I have seen and read touching accounts of that most holy of moments, when we acknowledge to our loved one and to ourselves that it is okay to “Let go!”

It might surprise you to know that when a member of the Tribe gets to that point with their father, you will often hear them (either in a whisper or a shout) cry out “ta-ta”… at least that’s what it might sound like to those unfamiliar with Yiddish.

What they are really crying out is “tata,” which happens to be one of the Yiddish words for “father.” Obviously, I bring this up today as Father’s Day is approaching, and, while many still have the joy of having their father on this earth, for many of us, we use this day to remember how incredibly blessed we were to have had our fathers in our lives, and, even though they no longer walk this earth, we try to honor and sanctify their memory.

During the Yiskor Memorial Service, we have a time when we concentrate on prayers for our dearly-departed fathers, and, during that moment in the service, I sang the first words of one of the most famous of songs about fathers.

“Oh, my tata, to me he was so wonderful, oh, my tata, he always understood.” Okay, that might not have been exactly how the lyricist wrote the song, but it just seems so natural for someone who uses a bissel (a little) Yiddish to change the word ‘papa” to “tata.”

After singing those beginning words to the song, I told the members of my flock that, while the words sound wonderful, they are a bit too idealistic. The truth is that no matter how wonderful our fathers may have been, no matter how much we may have idolized them, they were not G-d. They were human beings, and, as such, they did not always understand, and, they were not always so wonderful. Don’t get me wrong, tata may have understood more than most. Tata may have been truly wonderful. But, if we are honest with our memories and ourselves, tata also had his faults. For instance, if you ask momma about him, momma might remind you that tata snored like a freight train and kept her awake many a night. The snoring might have been so loud that you even heard it in the next room or across the hall. But, as much as that snoring annoyed momma, did it (for one second) stop her from loving your tata?

None of us is perfect. We all have our own little flaws. Come to think of it, we all have some pretty big ones. But, that does not stop us from loving or from being loved. May we learn from our dearly departed tatas, our fathers. May we learn from their virtues what to do, and may we learn from the things they did wrong what to avoid, as both honor their memory.

Shalom my friends and a very happy Father’s Day,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and serves in this capacity in a number of Health Care settings in the area including Advocate Home Care Services and L’Chayim Jewish Hospice in Partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward County.

I just read a story about a wedding guest … a member of the bride’s family, who refused to let go of the groom (during a dance) and when the bride tried to cut in, she got so violent that she had to be escorted off the premises.

I am tired of the negative stories. I want to focus on the positive ones, which brings me to a recent wedding, which included items of members of the family from generations past — a great grandmother’s ring, a chupa (wedding canopy) made by a grandfather, a wine goblet from the groom’s Bar Mitzvah and another from the bride’s Bat Mitzvah, and an embroidered handkerchief from the bride’s momma of blessed memory.

After the traditional breaking of the glass, the bride and groom went to a private room for a short time and, then, the music started. The bride and groom entered for their first dance together as husband and wife. Then came the ever-popular father/daughter dance. I looked at the father’s eyes and I could just imagine him picturing her as a baby, as a toddler, as a young girl and, now, here she was all grown up and ready to start a family of her own.

They held each other and started to sway to the music and then I heard the father tell his daughter that he still remembered how they used to dance and how much it meant to him and right then and there, the bride took off her shoes and did what she used to do as a child … she put her right foot on her daddy’s left foot and she put her left foot on her daddy’s right foot and as he moved, he lifted her right along with him.

Of course, I overheard him say it was not quite as easy as it was so many years before, but there was no mistaking

that a memory was not only being relived, but a new memory was being created, something to pass down from generation to generation. It was, indeed a beautiful moment … a moment to cherish for all time.

Now let me tell you about the other touching moment … one that came during a very different right of passage … a funeral. During a recent eulogy, I talked about the deceased’s talent with a pair of knitting needles and some yarn. I talked about how she made sweaters and afghans and I talked about how nothing can make you feel warmer than your momma’s afghan; if you put it on, you can feel all her love surrounding you..

A few hours after the service, I called the daughter of the deceased, who had a three-hour ride home after the service and she wanted to get home before it got dark. But I found out she did not go straight home. She went back over to her mother’s condo. Do you know why? That’s right, she went to get the afghan that her mother made for her many years before and she told me that whenever she feels sad or sick, whenever she has a fever with the chills, she is going to grab that afghan. I, for one, can’t think of a better medicine. Now, if only she had her momma’s recipe for chicken soup.

Shalom my friends,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and serves in this capacity in a number of Health Care settings in the area including Advocate Home Care Services and L’Chayim Jewish Hospice in Partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward County.

“Whither thou goest, I will go.” (The Book of Ruth)

We recently celebrated Mother’s Day, and I had a scene replay in my head about my mother of blessed memory that I thought I would share with you today.

It happened many years ago, when I was much younger than I am now. I had had a major upset and did not like my mother’s response to it. The truth is that I no longer remember what it was that had gotten me so upset, but I do remember the rest of the story. I got so angry that day that my 7-yearold self decided I was not going to stay in my house, I mean, my parent’s house, a moment longer. And so, I screamed at my mom that I was going to run away from home.

My mother might not have had more than a high school education, but she had a lot of saichel, a lot of common sense, and her response to my anger was truly amazing. She told me that if that’s the way I felt, she would go get a suitcase for me. I followed her upstairs and watched as she went into the closet and pulled out not one, but two, suitcases.

I said, “Momma, I’m only 7 years old. I don’t have all that much to take with me. I only need one bag.”

And she said, “I know, but the other bag is for me.”

I asked her why she needed a bag and she said that if I was going to leave, then she was going with me. And she added, “Why don’t we go downstairs for a minute and I’ll make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for each of us in case we get hungry on the road.”

It sounded like a good idea to me. After all, I was already feeling peckish. But as I watched her, I noticed that she made three sandwiches.

I asked why and she said, “Well, I think when your father hears that you are leaving, he is going to want to go with you too.”

Then she took out more bread and put together two more PB & J sandwiches and I asked who those were for. She said they were for my brothers because she suspected that if I was leaving, they were going to want to go too to protect me and make sure I was okay.

Funny thing … I never left the house that day … and, I learned a very important lesson about family sticking together.

My mother and father may no longer be on this Earth, but my brothers are still here. We talk to each other pretty much every day, and, even though we live quite a geographical distance from one another, we still look out for and protect one another.

A part of me is with each of them and a part of them is with me. I can’t think of a better Mother’s Day gift for our dearly-departed mother and father. Nor can I think of a better way to honor their memory.

Shalom my friends,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and serves in this capacity in a number of Health Care settings in the area, including Advocate Home Care Services and L’Chayim Jewish Hospice in Partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward County.

I remember a time many years ago when one of the most used holy books in my library was falling apart. I discovered that the library at FAU had some wonderful craftsmen on the floor of the Judaica Collection. These artists have a knack for bookbinding … and, let me tell you something, it is not easy to find a good bookbinder these days. It is a dying art.

I brought my book over to them and one of the binders gently took it in his hands. I could see by the way he held it that he knew this was a holy book. I got the impression that this was a man to whom all books are sacred.

I asked him what I should do and he told me to leave it with him and he would see if he could give the book some added life. In the end, he was able to bind that book back together so well that I have been using it for a good 12 years now. What a wonderful job this master binder did.

When I think of my love for books, I can’t help but think of a novel called Farenheit 451. It was about a time in the future where firemen have a very different job than they do in our current world because, instead of putting out fires, in the futuristic world of Farenheit 451, a fireman’s job was to start them and, sadly enough, it was books that they were supposed to burn.

One of the closest people in my life is in a book club. She was supposed to get a particular book to read called Fifty Shades of Grey. I called the library to find a copy of it for her and found out that it was deemed too risqué for the Broward System. So, I called Palm Beach and found that they have a few copies of the book. I also found that the book that one library may as well have chosen to burn was so popular in the other that, if I put in on reserve, I would be waiting weeks or months until after her book club had already finished reading and discussing the book in detail.

A book can be banned and a book can be burned, but, sometimes, when you ban a book, you only make it more desirable, more popular. While fire can destroy a book, the heat from a fire can also be used by one who sees books as holy to seal the glue that binds the pages back together again. A fire can be used to burn books, even holy books, but a flame can also provide us with the light we need to see the written

word.

Lag B’Omer is soon upon us. It is a time when we traditionally light bonfires and those fires remind us of the light that can be found in the Torah and in those who teach the inner meanings of G-d’s word.

May the flames of literacy grow inside you and may the books you choose to read warm your heart and light your soul.

Shalom my friends,

Rabbi Craig H. Ezring

Rabbi Ezring is a member of the National Association of Jewish Chaplains and serves in this capacity in a number of healthcare settings in the area including Advocate Home Care Services and L’Chayim Jewish Hospice in Partnership with Catholic Hospice of Broward County.