Chabad Magazine for Tuesday, Adar I 11, 5774 · February 11, 2014

Chabad Magazine for Tuesday, Adar I 11, 5774 · February 11, 2014
Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
If you look closely at your Jewish calendar, you will see that this week we celebrate Purim Katan—the “small Purim.” Since this year is a Jewish leap year, and we have an extra month of Adar, the joyous holiday of Purim has been pushed off until 14 Adar II. Yet we celebrate 14 Adar I as Purim Katan.
The Jewish Year

The Jewish year starts on Rosh Hashanah, "the Head of the Year," the day when Adam and Eve were created. The number of any given year (at the time of the writing of this article, the year is 5767 (2007)), is the amount of years which have elapsed since creation.
To find the corresponding Jewish year for any year on the Gregorian calendar, add 3760 to the Gregorian number, if it is before Rosh Hashanah. After Rosh Hashanah, add 3761.
Length
A standard Jewish year has twelve months; six twenty-nine-day months, and six thirty-day months, for a total of 354 days. This is because our months follow the lunar orbit, which is approximately 29.5 days. Due to variations in the Jewish calendar,1 however, the year could also be 353 or 355 days.2
Leap Years
The Torah says, "Guard the month of the spring, and make [then] the Passover offering."3 Meaning, we need to ensure that Passover is celebrated in the spring.
In fact, all the biblical festivals -- Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot -- are dependant on the agriculteral seasons. Shavuot is "Chag HaBikurim" (the First Fruits Festival) and Sukkot is "Chag Ha'Asif" (the Harvest Festival). We need to make sure that all the festivals are celebrated in their proper seasons.
Thus the Jewish lunar calendar must coordinate with the cycle of the sun and the seasons which are determined by the solar orbit. The problem is that a lunar year, twelve lunar months added together, only adds up to about 354.4 days.4 A solar year, at almost 365.25 days,5 is nearly eleven days longer. If no adjustment is made, Passover would occur eleven days earlier each year, eventually drifting into winter, then fall, summer, and then spring again.
The solution is to periodically insert an extra (thirty-day) month into a year, creating a thirteen-month year. Such a year is called a shanah meuberet ("pregnant year") in Hebrew; in English we call it a leap year, and it makes up all the lunar calendar's lost days. It happens about once every three years.
The month is added to Adar, the last of the twelve months. On leap years we observe two Adars -- Adar I and Adar II.
Thus, the Jewish calendar is both lunar and solar; the months are lunar months while the years are solar years. This is in contrast to the Gregorian calendar, in which the year is a solar year and the months are formed by dividing a year into twelve parts, and is also quite different from the pure lunar calendar observed by certain religions, in which each month is determined by the moon and a year is simply twelve lunar months strung together.
Hillel's Fix
While the Sanhedrin (Rabbinical Supreme Court) presided in Jerusalem, there was no set calendar. They would evaluate every year to determine whether it should be declared a leap year.
When Hillel II instituted the perpetual calendar in anticipation of the disbandment of the Sanhedrin (see Months), he also incorporated leap years into the calendar.
Hillel's calendar runs in nineteen-year cycles, each cycle containing seven leap years: the 3rd, 6th, 8th, 11th, 14th, 17th, and the 19th years.
The length of the standard leap year is 384 days, though it could also be 383 or 385.
There are exactly fourteen different patterns that the Hebrew calendar years may take, distinguished by the length of the year and the day of the week on which Rosh Hashanah falls. Because the rules are complex, a pattern can repeat itself several times in the course of a few years, and then not recur again for a long time. But the Jewish calendar is known to be extremely accurate. It does not "lose" or "gain" time as some other calendars do.
Before the Fix
Sanhedrin considered several factors in the course of their deliberations whether to declare a leap year on a given year. The primary factor, which overrode all others, was the spring equinox. If the spring equinox would fall later than the first half of Nissan (i.e., on the 16th or later), then the year was automatically declared a leap year. This is because, as mentioned earlier, the verse states: "Guard the month of spring, and make [then] the Passover offering."6
However, it wasn't enough for Passover to fall after the equinox, when it was "officially" spring; spring-like conditions needed to be evidenced. If in the land of Israel, the barley had not yet ripened,7 and the trees were not yet blossoming with seasonal fruit -- that, too, was sufficient reason to delay Nissan by adding a second month of Adar. Spring had to be felt; it had to be bright and green.
There were also several non-season-related factors which the Sanhedrin considered. For example, if the roads or bridges were in disrepair due to the winter rainy season, impeding the ability of the pilgrims to travel to Jerusalem for Passover.
For a mystical understanding of the solar-lunar calendar we follow, see The Nineteen-Year Marriage.
FOOTNOTES
1. Two months on the Jewish calendar -- Cheshvan and Kislev -- can be both thirty days, both twenty-nine days, or one of each.
2. This after Hillel established the perpetual calendar -- see below for more on this subject. Beforehand, the length of the years depended on the amount of thirty and twenty-nine day months, which depended on the monthly deliberations of the Sanhedrin (see Months).
3. Deuteronomy 16:1.
4. 354.372 days, to be exact.
5. 365.242199 days, to be exact.
6. This only means that Passover must fall out during the spring; the first of the month may actually be before the equinox as long as Passover (the fifteenth of the month) is on or after the equinox.
7. The barley was needed for the omer sacrifice which was offered on the second day of Passover.
The Code of Jewish law writes about Purim Katan (quoting from Proverbs), “He who is glad of heart rejoices constantly.”
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Purim: March 12-13, 2014
http://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/default_cdo/aid/109190/jewish/Purim.htm
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It seems strange that this was the day chosen to teach us about rejoicing. After all, other than the custom to add something extra to your meal, there isn’t much we do on this day—just make sure not to fast, say certain overly heavy prayers, or deliver a eulogy.
Yet, that is the point. Even on days when there are no great happenings like the conclusion of the Torah or grand Purim feasts, we have to be in in a constant state of joy—just because we each contain a piece of G-d, and He loves us.
Yehuda Shurpin,
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team
Daily Thought:
Never Distant
To someone who wrote that he was “bringing close those who are distant,” the Rebbe responded:
Who is to decide who is close and who is distant? Instead, approach each one as though you were an emissary of the King of kings of kings, sent to speak with His only child, a prince or princess!
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This Week's Features: 
Always Happy
On the essence of the “Little Purim”
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe
“The beginning is embedded in the end,” say the Kabbalists, “and the end in the beginning.”1
Everything has a beginning and an end. The beginning precedes all other stages and particulars, and the end follows them all. But the beginning, if it is a true beginning, contains the seeds of all that is to follow; and the end, if it is a true end, is the culmination and fulfillment of everything that preceded it.
So the beginning and the end each embody the entire process, each in its own way. Each is the mirror image of the other: a true understanding of the beginning reveals the end, while a true understanding of the end uncovers the essence of the beginning.
Orach Chaim (“The Way of Life”) is the first of the four sections of the Shulchan Aruch, the codification of Torah law that has been universally accepted as the most basic guide to Jewish life. As its name indicates, Orach Chaim is the section that deals with the day-to-day life of the Jew: the daily prayers, the laws of tzitzit and tefillin, the observance of Shabbat and the festivals, and so on.2 Like every book, Orach Chaim has a beginning and an end. And here, too, “the beginning is embedded in the end, and the end in the beginning.”
The Could’ve-Been Purim
In the opening lines of Orach Chaim, the Shulchan Aruch quotes Psalms 16:8: “I set G‑d before me always.” “This is a great principle in Torah,” it goes on to say. “When a person sets in his heart that the Great King, the Holy One, blessed be He, whose presence fills the entire world, stands over him and sees his deeds . . . he will immediately achieve a fear of G‑d and submission to Him . . .”3
Orach Chaim closes with another verse—from Proverbs 15:15: “He who is of good heart is festive always.” The subject under discussion is Purim Katan, the “Little Purim.” Purim occurs on the 14th day of the month of Adar—the day established by Mordechai and Esther as a day of “feasting and rejoicing”4 in commemoration of the Jews’ salvation from Haman’s evil decree in the year 3405 from creation (356 BCE). But approximately once every three years, the Jewish calendar contains not one but two months called Adar—Adar I and Adar II.5
Which is the “real” Adar, and which is the addition? When should Purim be celebrated—in Adar I or Adar II? The Talmud rules that Purim is to be celebrated in Adar II. Nevertheless, the fourteenth day of Adar I is also a special day—it is “Little Purim,” the day that would have been Purim had the year not been a leap year.
What do we do on Purim Katan? We don’t read the megillah, nor is there any special mitzvah to send food portions to friends or give gifts to the poor, as is the case on Purim proper. The Shulchan Aruch cites an opinion that one should increase in festivity and joy, but rules that there is no halachic obligation to do so. “Nevertheless,” the Shulchan Aruch continues, “a person should increase somewhat in festivity, in order to fulfill his duty according to the opinion that it is obligatory.” By way of explanation, it concludes with the above quote from Proverbs: “One who is of good heart is festive always.” Joy and festivity are always desirable; so, if an opportunity presents itself in the form of a day that might have been Purim—the most joyous day of the year—one should certainly rejoice and celebrate.
The Two Constants
The beginning is embedded in the end, and the end in the beginning.
I set G‑d before me always. One who is of good heart is festive always. Always, always. Always fearful, always joyous.
The foundation of all is the fear of heaven. Unless man perceives himself as constantly in the presence of G‑d, unless he trembles before the immensity of the import G‑d places on his every act, there can be no Shulchan Aruch, no divine law for life.
The culmination of all is joy. When the Jew concludes the Orach Chaim section of Shulchan Aruch—when the “The Way of Life” becomes his or her way of life from morning to night and from Passover to Purim6—his every moment becomes a link in a chain of perpetual joy. She is realizing her purpose in life, actualizing her deepest potentials, and there is no greater joy.
But fear is not only the beginning, nor is joy only the end. As the foundation of all, the fear of heaven pervades the Jew’s every hour and deed, from the most solemn moments of Yom Kippur to the inebriating joy of Purim. As the culmination of all, joy too pervades every nook and cranny of Jewish life: also in the “days of awe” of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the Jew is enjoined to “tremulously rejoice.”7
Fear and joy are as diverse as any two emotions to reside in the human heart. But the Shulchan Aruch synergizes them as a perpetual state of joyous trembling and tremulous joy. For the beginning is embedded in the end, and the end in the beginning.
FOOTNOTES
1. Sefer Yetzirah 1:7.
2. The other three sections of the Shulchan Aruch deal with subjects that are generally the province of rabbis and judges: kashrut, marriage and divorce, civil law, and the like.
3. The Shulchan Aruch consists of a code compiled by Rabbi Joseph Caro (1488–1575) and the annotations and glosses appended to it by Rema (Rabbi Moshe Isserles, approx. 1525–1572). The “beginning” and “end” cited in this essay are from Rema’s glosses on the first and last halachot of Orach Chaim.
4. Esther 9:22.
5. In the Jewish calendar, the months, which follow the lunar cycle, consist of either 29 or 30 days. Twelve such months make a “lunar year” of approximately 354 days—some 11 days short of the 365.25-day solar year. In order to align the Jewish year with the solar cycle, a thirteenth month is periodically added—in nineteen years, there are seven such leap years.
6. Though the Jewish year begins on Rosh Hashanah, the calendar of the festivals is reckoned by the Torah as running from Passover to Purim (Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 2a), and this is the format followed by the Shulchan Aruch. For the deeper significance of our “two-headed” year, see Our Other Head.

7. Psalms 2:11. See Likkutei Torah, Devarim 47a, et al.
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PARSHAH
The Dynamic Duo: Betzalel and Aholiav
Only when Betzalel and Aholiav work in unity can we forge a connection with G-d. by Mendy Kaminker
“They shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell among them.”1
G‑d asked the Jewish people to build the Mishkan, a portable sanctuary to house His presence, which would accompany them on their travels through the desert. The detailed description of the Mishkan included numerous fittings and furnishings that required a skilled touch, from the gold-covered holy ark to the embroidered curtains that formed the roof of the Mishkan.
Many accomplished men and women contributed their talents to the project, headed by two individuals who were appointed by G‑d Himself.
We read in the Parshah of Ki Tisa as follows:
G‑d spoke to Moses, saying: “See, I have called by name Betzalel, son of Uri, son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. I have filled him with a divine spirit, with wisdom, understanding and knowledge, and with [talent for] all types of craftsmanship: to devise plans; to work with gold, silver and copper, and in cutting stones to be set, and in carving wood; and to do all types of creative work. Furthermore, I have assigned along with him Aholiav, son of Achisamach, of the tribe of Dan; and in the heart of every wise person I have placed wisdom. They shall execute everything that I have commanded you . . .”2
Who were these two craftsmen who merited to be mentioned in the Torah by name?
Betzalel: A Family Legacy of Self-Sacrifice
The chief architect of the Mishkan and the one responsible for the entire project was Betzalel, the scion of a highly distinguished family.
His great-grandmother was Miriam, sister of Aaron and Moses.3 When Pharaoh ordered the chief midwives of the Jewish people—Miriam and her mother Yocheved4—to kill the baby boys, they courageously refused, and indeed redoubled their efforts to help the mothers and their babies by supplying them with food and other necessities. One reward for Miriam’s selfless acts was that Betzalel, the brilliant architect of the Mishkan, was her descendant.5
Miriam’s son and Betzalel’s grandfather was Hur. The Midrash describes how he, too, bravely stood up for righteousness—this time against the people who wished to make a golden calf and worship it—and was tragically killed.6 G‑d honored his heroism by repeatedly singling out the name of his grandson Betzalel from among all of the Mishkan’s artisans.
A Multi-Talented Craftsman with Divine Wisdom
Betzalel was no ordinary artisan. His talent was divinely inspired—he could intuitively understand G‑d’s wishes. This ability was signified by his very name, as described in the following Talmudic narrative:
G‑d told Moses, “Go and tell Betzalel to make for Me a Mishkan, with an ark and other furniture.” Moses, though, reversed the order and said to Betzalel, “Make an ark, furniture and a Mishkan.” To which Betzalel replied, “Our teacher Moses! The usual practice is to build a house and then bring in the furniture. You are telling me to make an ark, furniture, and [then] a Mishkan—where will I be placing the furniture that I will be building? Perhaps G‑d instructed you this way: make a Mishkan, [then] an ark and other furniture?”
Said Moses to him: “Were you betzel E‑l, in the shadow of G‑d, that you know this? This is indeed how G‑d instructed me!”7
(See The Inside-Out House for an explanation of why indeed Moses reversed the order.)
A similar episode occurred when G‑d instructed Moses to make the golden menorah:
When G‑d told Moses, “Make a menorah of pure gold,” Moses said: “How should it be made?” and was told that it should be hammered out of a solid block. Nonetheless Moses found it difficult to understand, and when he came down [from Mount Sinai] he forgot how to make it. He went back up and said, “My master, how should it be made?” to which G‑d replied, “It should be hammered out of a solid block.” Again Moses found it difficult to comprehend, and when he came down from the mountain he forgot the details.
He went back up yet again and said, “My master! I have forgotten it.” G‑d showed him the process again, but he still found it difficult. G‑d then said, “Watch and do the same,” and took a menorah of fire and showed him how to make it. Yet Moses still couldn’t understand.
So, G‑d said to him, “Go to Betzalel; he can make it.” And indeed, Moses asked Betzalel, and he immediately was able to make it. Moses was astonished: “G‑d showed it to me several times, yet I couldn’t understand how to make it; yet you, who never saw it, were able to make it on your own? Betzalel, you must have been standing betzel E‑l, in the shadow of G‑d, when He showed me how to make the menorah.”8
Ramban (Nachmanides), one of the major commentators on the Torah, notes that Betzalel’s abilities were in themselves a miracle, since during the centuries of the Jews’ stay in Egypt they had no access to precious metals such as gold, silver and copper. Thus, the fact that Betzalel knew how to work these metals and craft utensils from them was wholly unexpected.9
Betzalel’s Appointment
Even someone appointed by the highest authority, G‑d Himself, needs to be confirmed and accepted by the public. The Talmud derives this from the phrase, “See, G‑d has called Betzalel by name,”10 and describes the process as follows:
G‑d asked Moses: “Do you consider Betzalel worthy?” He replied, “Master of the world! If he is worthy in Your estimation, then how much more so in mine.” G‑d told him, “Nonetheless, go and clear it with [the people] as well.” So Moses went and asked the Jewish people: “Do you consider Betzalel worthy?” and they replied, “If he is worthy in G‑d’s estimation and in yours, then certainly he is worthy in our estimation too.”11
On the other hand, the Midrash describes how some of the people originally criticized the choice of Betzalel:
When Moses came down, he relayed to the Jewish people the details of how the Mishkan, its beams, the altar and the table were to be built. They asked, “Who will make all of these?” He replied, “Betzalel.” The people then started criticizing Moses, saying: “G‑d didn’t tell Moses to have Betzalel be the architect of the Mishkan; Moses picked him himself, because Betzalel is his relative . . .” To which Moses replied, “I did nothing on my own initiative; it was G‑d who told me to appoint Betzalel.”
Eventually, though, even the naysayers were reconciled and found Betzalel’s work to be to their satisfaction.
Aholiav, Son of Achisamach
Not much detail about Aholiav is given in the midrashim. We know that he was from the tribe of Dan, and that in certain respects his talents were equal to Betzalel’s, which is why he is specifically mentioned in the Torah, unlike the many other men and women who worked on the Mishkan and whose names are not given.
Centuries later, another scion of Dan played a leading role in the construction of the First Temple.12 The Talmud cites this as evidence that this tribe preserved their artistic tradition throughout that period.13
A Unique Pair
Betzalel, as we said above, descended from an aristocratic family; Aholiav, by contrast, was from the tribe of Dan—a less prestigious tribe, since they descended from Jacob’s handmaiden Bilhah. The Torah mentions Betzalel and Aholiav together, to demonstrate that to G‑d, both were on an equal level.14
The Zohar15 explains that Betzalel represents the Kabbalistic “right side” (kindness, benevolence), while Aholiav represents the “left side” (severity, strictness). They were able, then, to act in concert to build not just the Mishkan’s physical structure, but also its spiritual plane.
Don’t Forget the Least of the Tribes
There is an interesting connection between our daily prayers and the construction of the Mishkan. The Jerusalem Talmud states that the number of blessings in the Amidah prayer, 18,16 corresponds to the number of times in the Torah portions of Vayak’hel and Pekudei that G‑d’s commandment (tzivah) is mentioned. But a careful count yields 19 such words! However, the Talmud states that the first one does not count because it is mentioned before Aholiav’s name is introduced.17
Without Aholiav, there is no mitzvah.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe draws a powerful lesson from this: Before a person is ready to pray, he or she must reach a state where he feels a connection to every Jew, even the “least of the tribes.” Only when Betzalel and Aholiav work in unity can we forge a connection with G‑d.18
FOOTNOTES
1. Exodus 25:8.
2. Exodus 31:1–6.
3. See Talmud, Sotah 11b.
4. Ibid.
5. Shemot Rabbah 48:4.
6. Ibid. 11:10; Tanchuma, Vayakhel 4.
7. Talmud, Berachot 55a.
8. Bamidbar Rabbah 15:10.
9. Commentary to Exodus 31:2.
10. Exodus 35:30.
11. Talmud, Berachot 55a.
12. II Chronicles 2:13. See also I Kings 7:13–14.
13. Talmud, Erachin 16b.
14. Rashi on Exodus 35:34.
15. Zohar 2:220b, 222a, et al.
16. A nineteenth blessing was added at a later date.
17. Jerusalem Talmud, Berachot 4:3.

18. Talk on Shabbat Parshat Vayak’hel-Pekudei 1958.
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More in Parshah:
  • Owning Our World (by Shalvi Weissman)
When I was about eleven years old, one night my mother called and asked me to load and turn on the dishwasher. I really didn’t want to, but I did it anyway. After stuffing in all the dirty dishes, I reached for the detergent. It was right next to the regular dishwashing soap. I hesitated only for a moment, then poured the green liquid into that little plastic box, closed the door and pushed the button. I didn’t mean any harm; I was just curious if it would make a difference. I then went upstairs to sleep.
I hadn’t yet learned my lesson
When my mother woke me in the morning, she let me have it. She had come home after a long day at work, followed by some meeting, to find the whole kitchen filled with a foot or so of suds. After two hours of her work, our kitchen was cleaner than it had ever been.
I was smart; I denied having done anything wrong. She was smarter; she had opened the little plastic box, and found the remnants of my “experiment.” I was never again asked to load the dishwasher.
I hadn’t yet learned my lesson.
Some months later, we got a thin plastic record in the mail as an ad for a fast-food restaurant chain. Remember records? You know, back before MP3s, CDs, or even cassette tapes were popular? Anyway, I was still the curious type—my parents always encouraged curiosity—and although I wouldn’t have taken any of our records and scratched them up, I didn’t see how anyone could object to me ruining the McDonald’s jingle.
So, I pretended to be one of those “cool” DJs who would make interesting sounds with scratched disks. I had about ten minutes of fun. Somehow, the musical result that I got did not resemble anything that I had seen on the newly launched MTV. I did, however, succeed in ruining the needle on the record player. This time my mother got smart. She made me pay for the new needle. It cost forty-six dollars. That was months of babysitting money. I vowed never to experiment again.
The difference between the two incidents was that I now owned the results of my behavior. I wonder what would have happened if my mother had woken me the first time around to clean up the suds. I probably would have enjoyed the bizarre fluff on the kitchen floor, and it could have been a funny bonding experience between myself and my mother. As it was, I never even got to see the mess that I had made.
The lesson that I needed to learn was that of responsibility. As long as my mother “owned” the results of my actions, I didn’t have to. It was only when I was the one who had to deal with the consequences that something shifted. As long as we don’t feel that it is our world and that we personally will be dealing with the results of how we treat it, we will live in the moment, regardless of the long-term effects of our actions.
I now owned the results of my behavior
We see this very clearly from the beginning of time. When Adam and Eve were placed in the garden, they were told to “work it and guard it,” but at that point, they had invested absolutely nothing in their world. Everything that they saw was G‑d’s and not their own. They may not have intended for things to turn out as they did, but if they had personally invested as much in the world as G‑d had, they would have been much more careful about how they treated it.
Until we all feel a personal responsibility, and a partnership with G‑d, for how this “earth experiment” turns out, we will continue with our mistakes. We have to own a significant amount of stock in the company to care about its welfare.
This dynamic comes up again in the story of the golden calf. If you read the chapters in order, it is really very disturbing. G‑d sends ten miraculous plagues, the sea splits, enemies are destroyed. Bread falls from the sky, water pours from a rock. They come before Mount Sinai and prepare for the most momentous occasion. They hear the voice of G‑d, their Redeemer. He lays the bedrock of world morality as a gift to the Jewish people. One of the basic rules is “no other gods.” Forty days later Moses comes down the mountain with the most magnificent betrothal rock anyone has ever seen, only to find the “bride” bowing to a golden calf.
We’ve heard the story so many times that we are not disturbed by it anymore, but we should be. Can you imagine? It is as if a couple were on their honeymoon, the groom walks away for a minute, and he returns to find that his bride left him for another man! It just doesn’t make sense.
When G‑d gave us the Torah, He had invested everything in the project. We had invested very little. He had created the world; taken us out of Egypt; turned nature, the work of His hands, upside down—all to bring us to the point of accepting the Torah. We were a bunch of newly freed slaves. We had little to invest, and even less to lose. While there were other issues that led up to the calf, much of it was simply the fact that we did not feel that we owned our world.
Jewish mysticism, Kabbalah, describes “awakening from above” and “awakening from below.” G‑d is always conscious, looking for ways to draw us close; but in order for us to be able to receive His gifts, we must awaken ourselves. When spiritual bounty comes into the world from an awakening from below, it can be much more powerful than the gift of an awakening from Above. It has the power of partnership.
We had little to invest, and even less to lose
This lesson of balance and responsibility is one that applies to all our important relationships. Management theories, parenting skills, marriage improvement techniques, are all based on building a sense of ownership and responsibility.
Jewish history has been a process of us growing into ownership of our very specific role in humanity. Each time we were exiled from one place to another, we made a decision. Is this Jewish commitment that I have more important than my job, my family’s stability, in some cases my life? Each time we subjugated ourselves to the spiritual path, we bought stock in the company.
The question has been asked: if two Holy Temples in Jerusalem were already destroyed, who’s to say that when the redeemer comes, we won’t goof again and lose the third Temple? I think the answer is clear. The third Holy Temple will be our own spiritual dishwasher. We will own it; we will understand its value. For this exile we are enduring is not for nothing. It is teaching us responsibility and consequences, and is making us very aware that how things are is not how things should be.
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  • Who Engraved the Second Tablets? (By Menachem Posner)
Question:
After G‑d forgave the people of Israel for the sin of the golden calf, we read in the first verse of Exodus 34, “The L‑rd said to Moses: ‘Hew for yourself two stone tablets . . . and I will inscribe upon the tablets the words that were on the first tablets, which you broke.’”
Later, we read in verse 28, “He was there with the L‑rd for forty days and forty nights . . . and He inscribed upon the tablets the words of the covenant, the Ten Commandments.”
How can I reconcile these two verses? Who wrote them, G‑d or Moses?
Answer:
Very good question.
The commentators to verse 28 explain that the verse needs to be broken into two parts. In the first half of the verse, “he” refers to Moses. However, in the second half, where we read about the inscription, “He” (note the capital “H”) is a reference to G‑d.1
However, the question remains. Why is this verse written is such a way that it even appears as if Moses was the one who wrote the tablets, when in fact it was G‑d?
Rabbi Meir Simchah of Dvinsk (1843–1926) has a beautiful way of reconciling these verses.
The writing on the first tablets had been engraved through and through. As such, the words, written in Hebrew, were clearly legible on one side and equally visible on the other side as well. Therefore, the centers of the Hebrew letters mem ם and samech ס, which are closed from all sides, were miraculously suspended in midair.2
Rabbi Meir Simchah explains that the actual engraving of the second tablets was done by Moses. And after he had finished doing all that he could humanly do, G‑d completed the job and miraculously transformed the engraving into the special writing that had graced the first set of tablets.
Had Israel never sinned and the first tablets never been broken, all our learning would come easy, and there would be neither internal nor external challenges. However, our Torah study today, which entails hard work, constant review, and struggling to understand, is embodied by the second tablets.
When one toils in Torah study, he must first invest his all in an attempt to carve the words of the Torah into his very self, transforming himself into a spiritually sensitive person able to receive the secrets of the Torah. Then, and only then, does G‑d assist him and guide him to properly understand the Torah and shield him from distractions and confusion. This is symbolized by the fact that Moses first engraved the tablets to the best of his ability, and then G‑d added the miraculous element.3
FOOTNOTES
1. Ibn Ezra, Nachmanides, Rashbam, Rabbeinu Bechayei, et al.
2. Talmud, Shabbat 104a.
3. Meshech Chochmah ad loc.
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  • Ki Tisa in a Nutshell
Exodus 30:11–34:35
The people of Israel are told to each contribute exactly half a shekel of silver to the Sanctuary. Instructions are also given regarding the making of the Sanctuary’s water basin, anointing oil and incense. “Wise-hearted” artisans Betzalel and Aholiav are placed in charge of the Sanctuary’s construction, and the people are once again commanded to keep the Shabbat.
When Moses does not return when expected from Mount Sinai, the people make a golden calf and worship it. G‑d proposes to destroy the errant nation, but Moses intercedes on their behalf. Moses descends from the mountain carrying the tablets of the testimony engraved with the Ten Commandments; seeing the people dancing about their idol, he breaks the tablets, destroys the golden calf, and has the primary culprits put to death. He then returns to G‑d to say: “If You do not forgive them, blot me out from the book that You have written.”
G‑d forgives, but says that the effect of their sin will be felt for many generations. At first G‑d proposes to send His angel along with them, but Moses insists that G‑d Himself accompany His people to the promised land.
Moses prepares a new set of tablets and once more ascends the mountain, where G‑d reinscribes the covenant on these second tablets. On the mountain, Moses is also granted a vision of the divine thirteen attributes of mercy. So radiant is Moses’ face upon his return, that he must cover it with a veil, which he removes only to speak with G‑d and to teach His laws to the people.
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YOUR QUESTIONS
Can I Donate My Kidney Against My Parent’s Wishes?
My elderly mother is adamantly against my doing this. She argues that charity begins at home, and that a relative might need my organ in the future. by Yehuda Shurpin
Question:
Recently, I read about a woman who selflessly donated her kidney to someone who was very ill and in dire need of a transplant. The story touched me deeply, and I too want to save someone’s life by donating my kidney.
My problem is that my elderly mother is adamantly against my doing this. She argues that charity begins at home, and that a relative might need my organ in the future. “What if I would need your kidney? Or your only daughter would need it? Who would we turn to, and how would you feel then?” she argues, even though neither she nor my daughter has any kidney illness.
I know that donating a kidney is a big mitzvah. But I also know that honoring parents is a commandment. I’m wondering: am I allowed to disregard her opinion and still donate my kidney?
Answer:
As you correctly point out, there are two mitzvahs which seem to be in conflict here—honoring one’s parents, and donating an organ. In order to resolve this conflict, we need to better understand the parameters of both of these mitzvahs.
Let’s start with the mitzvah of kibbud av v’eim—honoring one’s parents.
Although it is included in the Big Ten, honoring one’s parents does not supersede other mitzvahs. The Torah states, “Every man shall revere his mother and his father, and you Honoring one’s parents does not supersede other mitzvahsshall observe My Sabbaths. I am the L‑rd, your G‑d,”1 juxtaposing the observance of the Sabbath with the reverence of one’s parents. The verse is teaching us that although one must honor his parents, at the same time one still needs to “observe the Sabbath” and follow G‑d’s commandments. After all, both the child and the parents are equally bound to honor and follow G‑d’s mitzvahs.2
Practically speaking, if your parents order you to transgress either a positive or negative commandment, you must disregard the order and fulfill the commandment.3 Additionally, if your parents request that you do them a favor while you have another mitzvah to perform that you can neither delay nor delegate, you must do the mitzvah and disregard the honor due your parents, since both you and your parents are duty-bound to fulfill the commandment. If you can, however, you must delegate or postpone the mitzvah, and honor your parents.4
In light of the above, if there were a straight-out commandment in the Torah to donate organs, then the answer would be simple, and that obligation would supersede the obligation to honor your parents. However, that does not seem to be the case.
Is there an obligation to donate your organs?
Note: The following discussion applies specifically to live kidney donations. Other types of organ donations (specifically, postmortem ones) are more complex and beyond the scope of this discussion.
People were created with two kidneys, although they can survive with just one. This allows a healthy person to donate one of his kidneys to someone suffering from renal disease. In some situations, a kidney donation is the only means of saving the patient’s life. The question is: are we obligated to donate a kidney to save someone’s life?
While the Torah commands us, “Do not stand idly by your neighbor’s blood,”5 and our sages tell us that “he who saves even one life, it is as if he saved the entire world,”6 there are nevertheless limitations to when one is obligated to save someone else’s life.
Endangering Your Own Life to Save Others
The Jerusalem Talmud tells us of an incident in which Rabbi Aimi was captured in a dangerous area. Rabbi Yochanan stated, “Wrap the dead in his shrouds.” Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish responded, “I will either kill or be killed; I will go with might and save him.”7
Based on this statement, some commentaries conclude that one The risk factor may not apply to kidney donationsis obligated to save a life even if in doing so he is putting himself at risk.8
However, other commentaries point out that the Babylonian Talmud seems to disagree9 with this conclusion. The Torah states, “You shall observe My statutes and My ordinances, which a man shall do and live by them. I am the L‑rd.”10 The Babylonian Talmud explains that the verse teaches that the commandments are meant to be kept when there is a certainty of life, but not when doing so will subject the person to the possibility of death.11
When there is a disagreement between the Jerusalem and Babylonian Talmuds, the law follows the Babylonian Talmud; therefore, the law is that one is not required to put himself in danger in order to save someone else’s life.12 Furthermore, according to many authorities, one is (in most circumstances) prohibited from doing so.13
Due to the present-day low fatality rate,14 the risk factor may not apply to kidney donations.15 But according to all halachic authorities, there is no obligation for one to relinquish an organ in order to save someone else’s life. Additionally, if this is done at risk to one’s own life, sacrificing an organ is considered a foolish act.16 In the case of an organ donation that does not involve risk to one’s life, the current halachic consensus is that while it is not an obligation to donate the organ, it is certainly considered meritorious if one chooses to do so.17
Honoring Parents Vs. Donating a Kidney
Since we have ascertained that there is no halachic obligation to donate your organ, it would seem that you would be required to honor your mother’s wishes. However, there is an additional factor to consider.
While you are obligated to honor your parents and fulfill their wishes, most authorities hold that you are not obligated to do so if what they are asking is not something that will necessarily18 affect or benefit them.19
So, from a halachic perspective, it is really up to you to choose what you want to do—listen to your parents, or donate your kidney.
FOOTNOTES
1. Leviticus 19:3.
2. Talmud, Bava Metzia 32a and Yevamot 5b.
3. Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 240:12–15, 25.
4. Ibid.
5. Leviticus 19:16.
6. Talmud, Sanhedrin 37a.
7. Jerusalem Talmud, Terumot 8:4.
8. Hagahot Maimoniot on Mishneh Torah, Hil. Rotzeach u-Shemirat Nefesh 1:15 (ed. Constantinople), cited also in Kesef Mishneh ibid. and in Beit Yosef on Tur, Choshen Mishpat 426:1. The reasoning seems to be (see Kesef Mishneh) that there is a certainty that the other person will lose his life without intervention, but it is only questionable about losing your own.
9. Some attempt to reconcile the two Talmuds by explaining that essentially the Jerusalem Talmud agrees that there is no obligation to risk one’s life to save another. These commentaries explain that Reish Lakish did so not out of obligation, but of his own volition (see, for example, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, Igrot Moshe, Yoreh De’ah 2:174), or by explaining that Reish Lakish paid money to save Rabbi Aimi, but did not actually risk his own life. Thus, they explain that the Jerusalem Talmud agrees that one should not risk his own life (see commentary of Rabbi Chaim Heller on Sefer ha-Mitzvot, Prohibition 297). However, since most halachic codifiers seem to view them as two distinct opinions (see, for example, Shulchan Aruch ha-Rav, Choshen Mishpat, Hilchot Nizkei Guf ve-Nefesh 7), this article represents them as such.
10. Leviticus 18:5.
11. See Talmud, Yoma 85b and Rashi ad loc., and Aruch la-Ner on Talmud, Sanhedrin 73a.
12. See Sefer Me’irat Einayim (Sma) on Shulchan Aruch, Choshen Mishpat 426:2, and Pitchei Teshuvah ad loc.
13. Rashi on Talmud, Yoma 85b; Issur ve-Heter [he-Aroch] 59:38. See also Shulchan Aruch ha-Rav, Orach Chaim 329:8. However, see Likkutei Sichot, vol. 29, footnote #19 and gloss on that footnote, in which the Rebbe notes that while Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi writes in Orach Chaim simply that one shouldn’t put his life at risk to save another, without even mentioning the differing opinion, elsewhere (Choshen Mishpat, Hilchot Nizkei Guf ve-Nefesh 7) Rabbi Schneur Zalman cites both opinions, and only in parentheses does he rule according to the second opinion (see She’eirit Yehuda 6, where he explains that when there is a ruling in parentheses, Rabbi Schneur Zalman had in mind to further review that ruling again at a later time). For a full discussion on whether one can or is obligated to put his own life at risk to save another, see Encyclopedia Talmudit, s.v. Hatzolat Nefashot, p. 347.
14. While the risk of fatalities is reported to be about 2:10,000, kidney donations do cause a great deal of pain, illness and discomfort, and can even be a cause of death for the donor. See Arthur J. Matas et al., “Morbidity and mortality after living kidney donation, 1999–2001: Survey of United States Transplant Centers,” American Journal of Transplantation 3(7) (2003): 830–834. Also see Paul C. Kuo, Lynt B. Johnson and James V. Sitzmann , “Laparoscopic donor nephrectomy with a 23-hour stay: A new standard for transplantation surgery,” Annals of Surgery 231(5) (2000): 772–779.
15. See responsum of Rabbi Akiva Eiger, Pesakim 60; Minchat Yitzchak 6:103; Yechaveh Da’at 3:84. See also She’eilas David, Even ha-Ezer 6, note 4, where he explains that there is no obligation to perform an action that will cause one physical distress or cause one to become ill in order to save a life.
16. See responsa of Rabbi David ibn Zimra (Radbaz) 3:627, and Igrot Moshe, Yoreh De’ah 2:174.
17. See Igrot Moshe and Yechaveh Da’at cited in preceding footnotes. See also Nishmat Avraham, Yoreh De’ah 349:2.
18. Although in our case one of the reasons given was that someone from the family may need the kidney at a future time, since there is no present need for the kidney now, and it is just conjecture based on an unfounded fear of what will happen in the future, this is not considered a need that will necessarily benefit the parents.

19. Responsum of Maharik 166, quoted in Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 240:25; see also Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, responsum 54.
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More in Your Questions:
  • Am I Overstaying My Welcome as a Shabbat Guest? (By Rosally Saltsman)
Dear Rachel,
I am newly religious and newly divorced.
The community I belong to has been very supportive, and makes sure I am not alone for Shabbat or the Jewish holidays. The problem is, I’m starting to feel uncomfortable about eating at the same families’ homes all the time.
They tell me to view them as family and say I am always welcome, but this is so unusual for me. Besides not wanting to be a burden, I don't want to become too dependent on them by always expecting to be invited. I don't want to insult them or deprive myself of pleasant company. I’m just confused as to what the right balance is. I also don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me.
Doesn’t Want to Overstay Her Welcome
Dear Considerate,
You mention a problem that is quite common nowadays. Unfortunately, there are many single people out there, either widowed or divorced or never been married, who may feel uncomfortable in the family-oriented culture of the religious world.
Before I address your feelings, I’d like to mention a few things in general. It’s written in Psalms: “A world of kindness (chessed) will be built.” (Or, “Kindness will be built forever.”)1 The world is full of lovingkindness, first exemplified by the patriarch Abraham, whose most exemplary mitzvah was welcoming guests. While the secular world may encourage privacy and prefers guests in moderation, in Jewish culture welcoming guests into the home is considered an honor. And for the world to be built on chessed, someone has to be the recipient of it. Of course, you may wish you were on the giving end; but without anyone to receive, there would be no chessed.
We all have it in our power to give and to do chessed for others. I’m sure there are ways in which you do kind things for your hosts, as well as for other people. An attitude of gratitude is also chessed. People like to feel that their help is appreciated. Also, when you are invited over, you can (if you don’t already do so) bring a gift or dessert, or you can help serve or clean up. Even being a pleasant and entertaining guest adds a lot to the Shabbat experience. Try to remember that a table is not a Shabbat table without guests, and you are helping make this a Shabbat table.
There is a big difference between feeling sorry for someone and making someone feel welcome. Chessed is not pity! It is emulating G‑d, and just as you enjoy the Helping others will keep your self-esteem intactsun and fresh fruit knowing they are gifts of G‑d, you can enjoy other people’s kindness. I also suggest looking for new and creative ways to do chessed yourself. Everyone has special gifts for helping others. Helping others will keep your self-esteem intact and allow you to enjoy other people’s kindness graciously. Judaism isn’t about tit for tat, but about paying it forward.
If you’re worried about becoming too dependent on these people’s kindness, or just want a break from routine, you can always make other plans—go away on a Shabbaton or a Jewish singles weekend, visit a friend in another town, or go on a vacation. You can visit another community for Shabbat by calling the rabbi of the congregation there and asking him if there are families who need guests for Shabbat. You can also put together your own Shabbat dinner with other single friends like yourself, or invite your host family to your home one week. (If that’s a problem for any reason, invite them out to dinner on a weekday.) You can still be a regular guest and feel at home without coming every single Shabbat. Exploring other options will also provide you with opportunities to meet new people, which may lead to marriage prospects or other social opportunities. It’s important to do this without insulting your hosts; let them know that you feel comfortable enough to take a rain check.
Don’t judge the situation from a Western perspective. Your hosts are right: we are all one family, and they have obviously adopted you into their immediate family. Your feeling of discomfort seems to be coming from your end; if you project joy and gratitude at being at Project joy and gratitudeyour host’s table, and look for ways to help, you will probably feel a lot more comfortable.
I get the feeling that one of the reasons you find this situation uncomfortable is that you are afraid that this will remain the status quo forever. And that’s not necessarily so. You might very well remarry in the near future, or move to another neighborhood, or make new friends who want to share the honor of inviting you. Life is dynamic, and it’s unlikely that your situation won’t change at some point. Until then, it seems that these friends are happy to have you join them.
I wish you success in soon building your own home, where you will have the honor of hosting many guests. Then you’ll see how much your presence has meant to the families who host you.
Rachel
FOOTNOTES
1. Psalms 89:3.
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WOMEN
10 Tips to Prevent Cyberbullying in Your Child’s Life
Here are some precautions to take to protect your child from becoming a victim, a bystander, or even the instigator of cyberbullying. by Suzanne Handler
A 12-year-old girl in Florida recently leapt to her death after she was relentlessly bullied by her classmates. Even after she switched schools, the bullying continued—online.
The brave new world of technology has spawned a monster: the cyberbully. For those unfamiliar with the term cyberbullying, according to the website stopbullying.gov it is “bullying that takes place using electronic technology . . . Examples of cyberbullying include mean text messages or e‑mails, rumors sent by e‑mail or posted on social networking sites, and embarrassing pictures, videos, websites or fake profiles.”
Cyberbullying is a real and serious threat to the wellbeing of our children. For all the positive advancements and convenience electronic Even after she switched schools, the bullying continued—onlinedevices such as cell phones and computers bring to our lives, there also lurks a sinister side to this technology that cannot be ignored. It is beyond disturbing to think that such a device, in the hands of thoughtless youth, can morph into a weapon with the potential to drive another human being to take his or her own life.
The statistics on cyberbullying are alarming. According to dosomething.org, a website for teens that addresses social issues, nearly 43 percent of all kids have been bullied online, 1 in 4 has had it happen more than once, and only 1 in 10 victims will inform a parent or trusted adult of the abuse. Most disturbing, as reported on this same website, those being cyberbullied are 2 to 9 times more likely to consider committing suicide.
More insidious and lethal than the garden-variety schoolyard bully of yesteryear, the cyberbully targets his or her victim with e‑mails, tweets and texts, rendering impotent the old adage that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” If the perpetrator’s aim is accurate, striking countless blows to the most vulnerable girl or boy in any social or classroom setting, the words do hurt; in fact, they have the potential to kill.
The Jewish perspective on verbal (and nonverbal) abuse is simple yet eloquent: “You shall not wrong one another, and you shall fear your G‑d.”1 Rashi clarifies: “This refers to verbal oppression (ona’at devarim), namely that a person may not antagonize another, nor give him bad advice in order to benefit himself. And if you were to ask, ‘Who would ever know my secret intentions?’ the verse ends with ‘fear G‑d,’ the One who knows.”
Parents need to carefully consider whether or not to allow the Internet into their home. The Internet can bring a variety of negative influences into the home, of which cyberbullying is only one example. If you do decide to allow the Internet, here are some precautions to take to protect your child from becoming a victim, a bystander, or even the instigator of cyberbullying:
Know your child’s passwords and screen names for all e‑mail accounts, social media applications and electronic devices. Allow your child to have a Facebook or Twitter account only if you can be friends/followers.
Monitor what your child writes on his or her electronic device(s) and the family computer. Regularly check the Internet search history. (The girl who committed suicide in Florida had searched for ways to kill herself, which was discovered later in her search history.)
Learn the current terminology used by youth today when corresponding with each other.
Attend school or community functions where cyberbullying is being discussed. Talk with other parents and your child’s Learn the current terminologyteacher and school counselor if you suspect your child is involved in cyberbullying.
Watch for any sudden or ongoing signs that your child seems anxious, fearful, withdrawn, or uninterested in school or being with former friends.
Demonstrate to your child that you can be trusted with any cyberbullying information he or she shares with you. Explain that you will keep his or her confidence as long as no one’s safety or health is at risk.
Explain that you don’t intend to punish your child for being truthful about his or her involvement in cyberbullying. Keep the lines of communication as open as possible with careful, non-threatening conversation.
Carefully monitor your own reaction if your child reports being cyberbullied. Try to stay calm as you plan your next steps.
In an age-appropriate manner, explain what happened in Florida, or in a similar cyberbullying situation, and your concern that such a terrible thing must never happen in your family or any other family.
Remind your child to treat others the way he or she would like to be treated. Teach your child to never say or write anything about another person that he or she would not be willing or comfortable to say to that person’s face.
Unfortunately, the frequency of cyberbullying is on the rise, especially among middle-school-age students. Because it is every parent’s responsibility to protect his or her child from harm, consider discussing the dangers of cyberbullying with your kids today.
FOOTNOTES
1. Leviticus 25:17.
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More in Women:
  • Shopping for Meaning (By Chanah Rose)
I’m standing in the middle of Neiman Marcus Last Call, a designer overstock outlet. Rack after rack of random sale items, squashed onto the floor of a warehouse-like, oxygen-depleted arena—exactly the kind of store to make me feel dizzy and breathless. What sort of method could there be to this madness? I find myself longing desperately for the car I left in the sea-like parking lot, and the freedom of the highway drive home.
Shopping. You either hate it or you love it. When I hate it, it’s because of the unpredictability of futile shopping days. When I love it, it’s for the delight of unexpected finds.
It’s a lot like life. You plan, but you never really can predict. You find or you fail, but you’ve just got to keep looking. “G‑d guides the footsteps of man,” says Psalms,1 and the teachings of Chassidism continue, “to encounter every spark it is his You find or you fail, but you’ve just got to keep lookingportion to redeem.”2 In other words, there’s a particular “shopping bag” of life experiences, encounters and acquisitions that each of us is intended to bring home.
Kabbalah and Chassidism teach that physical reality is strewn with G‑dly sparks—sparks of holiness in exile. By interacting in a G‑dly, positive way with whatever holds that spark captive, we have the power to redeem that spark and let it shine. By eating an ice-cream cone in a refined way and saying the blessing before and after, we elevate that ice cream, redeeming its holy potential. Every apartment that we live in, journey that we make, and pair of sneakers that we lace up can be elevated to its holy potential, freeing its innate spark.
But which particular ice cream, apartment, highway or pair of sneakers we use is not random. Lost sparks of holiness are allotted to every soul, and it is our task to encounter and elevate our own “portion” of the world.
The Baal Shem Tov’s message about hashgachah pratit, divine providence, is that we will all find our way to our portion of the world and the sparks that await us. Our divinely ordained journeys through life will lead us to what is ours to bring home.
A Talmudic sage named Rav Yosef once commented, “If not for that day [when the Torah was given], how many Yosefs would there be in the marketplace?”3
Interestingly, Yosef (Joseph) must have been a popular name in Talmudic times, just as it is today. Without the Torah, Rav Yosef feared, who would he be? Just another Joe.
What is the significance of a marketplace? The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains that Rav Yosef saw it as a metaphor for life, a place where we Who would he be? Just another Joebuy, sell, shift, move. From one domain to another. Mine. Yours. G‑d’s.
Our “business,” our life’s mission, is to sanctify all the fragments of reality within our reach, acquiring them for G‑d. And it is the Torah that gives us specific guidelines for how to do so: Sanctify your fields by leaving a portion for the poor, not working the land during the seventh Sabbatical year, and treating your farmhands fairly. Sanctify your interactions by loving your fellow, extending yourself to the orphaned and widowed, and making peace between one man and another. And so on.
Rav Yosef credited the Torah with giving him purpose. Without it, he feared, he’d be lost in the teeming, dizzying, enticing and maddening marketplace of life. Another Joe, oblivious to the “why” of it all.
Similarly, a popular chassidic song goes, “Hey, Mark! What are you doing in the market? You don’t buy, you don’t sell—all you do is cause trouble!”
Mark (the Slavic Joe) is the rabble-rouser, the nogoodnik, who doesn’t know what the marketplace is for. He represents the part in all of us that pulls us down, that wastes time—the animal soul. The song is really asking, “How am I interacting in the marketplace of life? What goods have I purchased? What am I bringing home for What goods have I purchased?G‑d?”
The song’s folksy verses are followed by a very deep verse from Psalms: “My soul thirsts for You; my flesh pines for You—Tzam’ah lecha nafshi; kamah lecha besari.” I long to find You, G‑d. Show me where.
When I’m searching for G‑d in the mundane, I realize that even an everyday purchase is not random. The purse I bought at a no-return, last-markdown sale before finding one I preferred for a better price at just the next store was somehow meant to be mine, meant to be used for a higher purpose.
With this added perspective, shopping is starting to grow on me. I’m learning to welcome the surprises, the unexpected turns and encounters, and to bring home what was mine—His, rather—all along.
FOOTNOTES
1. Psalms 37:23.
2. Paraphrase based on many teachings of Chassidism. For example, see Hayom Yom, 3 Elul.

3. Talmud, Pesachim 68b.
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  • How Your Home Décor Reflects Who You Are (By Chana Weisberg)
Recently we moved, and I had the opportunity to make our new house into a home. And so, I had fun injecting my personal tastes into my surroundings while I went about decorating. Paint colors, furniture placement, light fixtures, window coverings—from small to big, there were lots of decisions to make.
Being an independent thinker, I had definite tastes of how I wanted my home to look. But I also became aware of a current trend in home décor that I related to.
The popular trend is not to be too “matchy matchy”: that a room shouldn’t look too “staged” by professional decorators; that it shouldn’t look too “perfect.”
The idea is to bring your own personality and life story into your surroundings, and make your rooms reflect who you are. Your home should tell “your story”—not a decorator’s story—of your personal history, your background, your likes, interests and hobbies.
The colors you choose should reflect your moods, not necessarily what’s “in.” The mementos you exhibit should reveal your dreams and past (or current) experiences. The artwork you display is less about flawless techniques or artistic disciplines, and more about how it reflects your inner self and inner world.
So, beauty nowadays, at least in our homes, isn’t about perfect symmetry or perfectly matching decorative pillows, but is more about expressing our own unique individuality.
Our sages describe the purpose of the creation of our world as G‑d wanting a “home here in our physical reality.”
G‑d specifically wanted a home here in the mundane physical world, which is seemingly inhospitable to spirituality, that could be transformed into a place where He feels comfortable, into an environment that reflects His truth.
On the one hand, the physical world is the greatest concealment of divine truth. The physical seems to deny a spiritual reality, or anything other than the very existence of its own material self.
But on the other hand, the very fact that we can take this reality and imbue it with a higher G‑dly meaning makes it the greatest expression of how even something mundane can be sanctified to serve its Creator.
This is the meaning of the “décor” in the Holy Temple. We were given exact specifications on how to build it, including which materials to use, such as gold, silver, copper, and purple- and blue-dyed material. G‑d is telling us to use our “gold,” all our material reality, and build it into an environment that will make Him feel “at home.”
And the same is true with our homes.
So, the current trend advises us, don’t make your home décor imitate the physical tastes of what others consider pretty. Let it reflect you.
Judaism teaches us that our homes can be a mikdash me’at, a miniature Holy Temple, reflecting our inner, spiritual selves.
None of us are picture-perfect. But all of us are unique. Your home is more than a physical structure of wood or stone; it is a spiritual temple where your true self, your inner beauty and soul can feel at home.
Something to think about the next time you select something as part of your home décor . 
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VIDEO
Don’t Just Do Something
Rabbi Infinity teaches the meditation of all meditations—one that might just save your life. by Tzvi Freeman
Watch Watch (1:34)
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More in Video:
  • Thirteen Months of the Year
http://www.chabad.org/2462192
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  • The Collusive Witnesses (By Binyomin Bitton)
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STORY
The Living Orphan
They commanded Father to dress and come with them. Father came to my small bed, bent down, and gave me a kiss, long and painful. Tears—big ones, hot ones, blazing ones—rolled off his cheek and onto my forehead.
as told to Avraham Elya Plotkin
 Reminiscing about the years of my youth in the Soviet Union in the early twentieth century brings back fractured memories and complicated images. Amongst them, however, there are some complete pictures and figures that are engraved deep, deep in my psyche.
I remember that long, cold, dark night when I awoke to the sound of sobbing. Mother was standing, crying hysterically as she waved her hands in the air. Father was standing half-dressed, scared to death.
Three young people dressed in uniforms were milling around the room, searching the closets and the beds and looking at the walls. I watched as they approached the bookcase and examined each book, page by page.
I wondered: Who are they looking for? What are they looking for? What do they need? Will they sit and study the books like Mother and Father?
And then I saw that they found what they were looking for. They found a few handwritten pieces of paper, and a picture of the Rebbe [Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe—Ed.].
One pointed to the other, “Do you see? This is Schneersohn!”
They then commanded Father to dress and come with them. Three young people dressed in uniforms were milling around the room, searching the closets and the beds and looking at the walls Father came to my small bed, bent down, and gave me a kiss, long and painful. Tears—big ones, hot ones, blazing ones—rolled off his cheek and onto my forehead.
He then looked at Mother with fire and love in his eyes. He kissed the mezuzah on the doorway, and disappeared into the dark of night.
Only when the door closed did my childish mind grasp how great our tragedy was.
Mother began to sob, “Oy vey!”
She fainted.
The neighbors came and revived her. They tried to console her.
When the morning came, she threw on a scarf and ran out. She returned later, tired, despondent and broken. She fed me and fell into an exhausted sleep.
I once heard Mother tell the neighbors that on that night, “they” also took another fifty married men and several students, all of them Lubavitcher chassidim, friends and students of Father’s.
This was a communal tragedy; but that did not lessen Mother’s pain.
Now, day after day, she would run around the streets. She would go wherever possible, to beg, to protest and to cry, while I was left at home alone, like an orphan.
Out of pity, the neighbors would come to turn on the oven to heat our home and bring me something to eat.
I would sit at the window waiting for hours. Maybe Mother is coming? Maybe Father is coming?
My young soul was anxious. I held back my tears.
I felt as if a thief stole, without mercy, the beauty of life.“If I was able to, I would inject the entire Torah into his brain; who knows what tomorrow will bring?” He stole my smile, my happiness, my childhood.
It was only a short while ago that Father would spend days with me, playing and singing. He would run to me, give me a hug and kiss me without end.
He would tell me stories. Extraordinary stories from the Torah and Talmud.
I was already studying the Torah with Rashi’s commentary. But Father would insist on teaching me lofty concepts that I did not completely understand. He spoke about G‑d, about Jews and the Torah.
Mother would say to Father, “Gevald, what are you doing? To a child as young as our Sholom’ke, may he be well, you speak of such subjects? His mind is still tender; he cannot grasp and understand it.”
“If I was able to,” Father would say, “I would inject the entire Torah into his brain; who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
Father the Shoemaker, Father the Teacher
I was told that originally Father had been a rabbi in a neighboring city, until he was forced by the Soviet authorities to resign and flee. He then learned to be a cobbler.
I remember one day a woman came running in, “Oy, where is the rabbi? I have an important question!”
Mother angrily responded that there is no rabbi here. “I told you thousands of times: there are no rabbis in this house. Have mercy on us, and stop coming here!”
What I did not understand at the time was how being a rabbi could be more demeaning than being a cobbler.
I remember that Father would go out into the dark winter nights and disappear for a few hours. He would return very tired, but always in joyous spirits.
One time he took me with him. They all had the same look on their face. Their eyes held constant fear. Scared of the unknownWe traveled on a trolley, and then by foot. We walked through side streets until we came to an apartment complex.
We passed through a long-neglected courtyard and through three doorways, and then trekked up the staircase to the fifth floor. We entered a large room with horrible lighting and a large uncovered table in the middle.
In the room were three dozen lads, in their early teens. They all had the same look on their face. Their eyes held constant fear. They were scared of the unknown.
Between themselves, they were friendly, as if they were all part of a large family.
When they saw me, they said excitedly, “Sholom’ke is here!”
“Your father says that you have a good head,” one called out.
Another said, “Don’t worry, Sholom’ke, don’t let your spirit fall. By the time you grow up, the world will be normal again.”
They all took out their books. They studied Chabad philosophy, while I sat there wondering what wasn’t normal about the current world.
The hours went by. The students got into heated discussions as they discussed the intricacies of the teachings. Then, one by one, they filed out, in intervals of a few minutes.
Everything about that evening fascinated me.
The secretiveness and the hiding spot where the boys gathered. The poverty in the home. The friendliness they had for each other. Their confidence, despite the fear.
Watching them study had a great effect on me. Their studying was filled with enthusiasm, Father’s love for them and theirs for Father.
After that I never met with them again, because a short while later they took Father away.
The Childless Uncle Moshe
A few months after Father was taken away, his sister’s husband, Uncle Moshe, came to town. After talking with Mother for a while, they decided that I was to go live with Uncle MosheHe was a tall and thin man, and although elderly, was very strong. In his steps you heard confidence and assurance.
After talking with Mother for a while, they decided that I was to go live with Uncle Moshe in his city.
The parting was heart-wrenching.
All three of us cried. After Uncle dried his eyes, I burst into tears: “Mother, I don’t want to go. I want to live with you.”
“My child, what kind of life awaits you here? Who will study with you here? Soon, with G‑d’s help, Father will return home, and you will be able to return to a normal life.”
We hugged and kissed again.
Mother accompanied us to the train. There we piled into a small cabin. I watched as Mother stood outside, watching the departing train.
Her hands were open. The look on her face expressed her unspoken feelings: What have I done? My most precious . . . my only consolation . . . I have sent to the unknown.
Life with my aunt and uncle was not bad. Uncle was a carpenter and earned a good livelihood. They had no children.
I was sent to study under the supervision of Asher the melamed, the teacher.
Uncle Moshe would tell the teacher, “Remember that he is not just another pupil; he is the son of Shmuel, your childhood friend, may he return soon. And when he will see that his son is educated in the ways of Torah, his happiness will know no end.”
Leaving Uncle
One day, Uncle said to me, “I think that it is a good idea for you to go study in a yeshivah, a place of advanced Torah learning. As students in an underground Jewish school, we were forced to relocate every few daysHere you have no friends. There you will have friends.”
Shortly thereafter, he took me to the school. There were thirty young students and some older ones. The teacher was a great scholar.
As students in an underground Jewish school under Soviet rule, we were forced to move every few days from one home to another. Our teacher never managed to deliver an entire lecture series in one location.
We studied and traveled, traveled and studied. Nevertheless, under these difficult circumstances we all gained great Talmudic knowledge.
We also learned Chabad philosophy, which revealed a new dimension to life. We recognized a new world, G‑dly and splendid. We viewed reality differently.
Our thirst for learning was great. There was no need to force us to study; we just wanted more and more.
A Living Orphan
How I want to see my father one more time. To have one more talk with him. How I want to commemorate the anniversary of his passing, but I do not know when it is. Even the satisfaction of saying the mourner’s kaddish, to pay tribute to Father, I do not have.
Since my father was taken, they have called me the “living orphan.” As a child, I never understood—are other orphans not living?
Today I understand: I am indeed a unique orphan. Even to say the kaddish prayer once, to pour out my soul, I cannot.
But I know that there is something deeper that connects me to my father. There is something much greater than what any letter or telephone call could do.
There is a soul connection.
It is the Jewish practice I strive to maintain that connects us.
Based on an account related to Avraham Elya Plotkin, who recorded it in Di Yiddishe Heim (Kehot Publication Society) following his escape from the Soviet Union in 1946.
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THE REBBE
Does G-d Really Exist?
An answer to a child
“Your other question was: if you daven (pray) the rest of the year, will you get a trumpet?”
Correspondence by Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, The Lubavitcher Rebbe
By the Grace of G‑d
Rosh Chodesh Tammuz, 5730
[July 5, 1970]
Brooklyn, N.Y.
Greeting and Blessing:
My dear Assaf:
I was pleased to receive your letter, but I was very much surprised at the question you asked.
You wrote: “I want to know if Hashem really exists.” I will answer it this way: Suppose you were walking in the streets and saw a skyscraper. Would you ask, “Is there someone who made it?” And if this is so with a building of a number of floors, what will you say about the whole world, with the sun, moon and stars, oceans and mountains and woods, and all the creatures on land and in the seas, and so on?
Your other question was: if you daven the rest of the year, will you get a trumpet?
Since you are a thoughtful boy, I will again answer it with an illustration: Suppose you were invited to the White House, and the President of the United States received you with pleasure and asked you what kind of a present would you like. Would you ask him for a candy? Perhaps you know the story of King Solomon, who was only 12 years old when he became king of all the Jewish people, after his father, King David. G‑d appeared to him in a dream and asked him, “What shall I give you?” And all he asked for was a wise and understanding heart! And G‑d gave him that, as well as everything any person could wish for.
I trust you are learning Hashem’s Torah with devotion and diligence, and conduct yourself the way Hashem wants you to as befitting for a Jewish boy, a son of Avraham, Yitzchak and aakov, the fathers of our people.
With blessing,
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COOKING
Stawberry Apple Pear Fruit Compote
A healthy, refreshing and versatile treat. by Miriam Szokovski
If you've never had homemade apple sauce or fruit compote, go buy some apples pronto! There is absolutely no comparison between this and the store-bought variety. I like to throw some strawberries in for color and flavor, but you can make it just with apples and pears, or even just plain apples!
I prefer Granny Smith apples and Bartlett pears, but other types work too. Peel and core the apples and pears. Cut them into pieces, as pictured; not too small.
Add about an inch and a half of water to the bottom of the pot. The apples and pears will release a lot of liquid into the pot when they start to cook, so you don't want to start out with too much water.
Bring the water to a boil, then reduce to a simmer for about 45 minutes. After you turn it off, add in the strawberries. They can be fresh or frozen (I used frozen). The residual heat will cook the strawberries just enough. Feel free to omit the strawberries, if you prefer. It will be good without them too.
Now it's time to decide if you'd like your apple sauce smooth or chunky. For chunky, mash the fruit and eat as is. Eat it hot, or refrigerate and eat cold.
If you prefer smooth apple sauce, first drain most of the liquid. But do not throw it out! The water that fruit was cooked in is like a delicious natural juice. You can drink it hot, like tea, or cold, for a refreshing healthy beverage. I drink it both ways, depending on my mood.
Now blend the fruit until smooth. You can use a blender, food processor or immersion blender. It's healthy, sugar free and versatile. You can eat it plain, as a snack, for breakfast, serve it for dessert, or as a base for ice cream.
You might like to divide the applesauce and make half chunky and half smooth. Throw in some cut-up fruit for excitement.
This compote is a great staple to keep in your fridge if you're trying to eat healthily. It also freezes well, and tastes great half-defrosted, when it's all icy and slushy.
Ingredients
6 Granny Smith apples
6 Bartlett pears
2-3 cups strawberries (frozen or fresh)
Directions
Peel and core the apples and pears.
Fill a pot with about 1 1/2 inches of water. Add the apples and pears.
Bring to a boil, then simmer for 45 minutes.
Add in the strawberries and let the mixture cool for a little while.
For chunky apple sauce, mash the fruit. For smooth apple sauce, strain and blend.
Don't waste the liquid! Drink it hot, like a fruity tea, or add some ice for a refreshing cold drink.
Yields: 8-10 cups
Have you ever made fruit compote or apple sauce before? What's your favorite combination or fruit?
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ART
Pomegranate Jews
Every Jew is full of mitzvot like a pomegranate is filled with seeds. by Esther Rosen
Artist’s Statement: Pomegranates are so pretty.
Every Jew is full of mitzvot like a pomegranate is filled with seeds.
Doesn't matter with which part of the Jewish community one identifies with or doesn’t identify with.
How learned or unlearned one is.
How affiliated or unaffiliated one considers themselves.
Every single Jew is full of mitzvot, just like a pomegranate is filled with seeds.
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More in Art:
  • Family (By Sara Seldowitz)
Paper Collage & Mixed Media
Artist’s Statement: I dedicate this painting to single mothers. ”Your children will be like olive plants around your table.” (Psalms 128)
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JEWISH NEWS
Excellence Is Rule No. 1 When It Comes to Early-Childhood Education
The demand for quality Jewish preschools with strong religious and secular-based educational components is high, and so are the costs of establishing them. How did Chabad emissaries open so many excellent early-childhood programs in such a short amount of time? The second of two articles. by Faygie Levy
Rivka Goldschmidt started the Gan Menachem preschool in Dallas five years ago because she wanted a school for her own young children “where Judaism was integrated and woven through the whole early-childhood experience, where Judaism is not a subject that’s taught, but where everything is based on Yiddishkeit.”
There were six kids in that first class, and the school has since grown to 27 students between the ages of 2 and 5, almost the maximum number of 30 children Goldschmidt can legally have in her school.
For some of her students, Goldschmidt says, Gan Menachem may be the only formal Jewish education they receive: “With Jewish [day] schools costing so much money, parents want them to have this background as they move into their lives.”
That reality, educators say, is why it’s even more imperative to provide a solid foundation in secular subjects, in addition to all of the Jewish material. To that end, Goldschmidt’s own curriculum, like many of her contemporaries, includes art, music and reading—“we cover a broad range of topics.”
And the benefits seem to have paid off. Paula Winslow, a kindergarten teacher at Akiba Academy of Dallas and an early-childhood educator for many years, says the kids who come to her from Gan Menachem have “really great kindergarten-readiness skills.”
“They have a better attention span, can follow multi-step directions, have great phonemic awareness and, at that point, we can take off with [teaching] reading to those kids,” says Winslow. “They also have a good sense of writing letters and numbers.”
Competing With the Best
In the uber-competitive private-school environment of New York City, creating a strong program means not only competing with secular schools, but making sure that students from her preschool can transition to any “ongoing school,” says Sarah Rotenstreich, director of Preschool of the Arts.
“When we started the school 14 years ago, we had one vision—that parents would never have to choose between sending their children to a school with a stellar education [versus] their belief in Jewish education. Our goal was to combine the two, so that parents would enroll in our school and know they were getting the best of both worlds,” she says. “In addition, they know that by choosing our school, the ability to get into the best private schools is still there.”
The school has such a strong reputation in the general early-childhood community that Rotenstreich created the Global Educator Initiative, which allows educators from around the world to come, observe and learn from the teachers at Preschool of the Arts. The most recent participants came from China.
And it’s also quite popular among parents. Currently, Preschool of the Arts operates three locations in Lower Manhattan, each with a unique flavor: one offers a Jewish library that’s open to the public; another features an art gallery where artwork by children and professional artists can be seen; and a third uses inspiration from New York’s Cooper Union College for its design. A fourth branch, for infants and toddlers, is slated to open in February. Even with the expansions, Rotenstreich reports that she has a waiting list of prospective students.
Likewise, the Chai Preschool in Foster City, Calif., isn’t able to offer slots to all the children who want to attend, according to school director Esty Marcus. The school opened in Marcus’s home nine years ago with just 12 kids and blossomed.
“We’ve now expanded it to 60 students,” she says, “and we still have 20 kids on the waiting list.”
That probably isn’t surprising given how much work Marcus has put into making sure her program is the best it can be, including consulting with the Stanford University-run Bing Nursery School—an educational research institute known for its famous “marshmallow study,” which examined kids’ impulse control.
“I had really wanted to work with them, but they hadn’t consulted with other schools that we knew of,” she says. Then, she had a chance encounter with Beverley Hartman, an associate director at the preschool. According to Marcus, Hartman was pleased to find that the Chai Preschool focused on what the Bing School values: community, respect and the importance of relationships. And so, she began consulting with the school.
Hartman’s feedback and ideas, Marcus says, “really changed our school.” These days, the Chabad educator passes the favor forward by consulting for other preschools.
Bang for the Buck
If the need for quality Jewish preschools that offer both religion- and secular-based educational components is out there, the costs of establishing such an institution are challenging. Some estimate the cost of starting a quality early-childhood program to be close to $100,000—for building costs, curriculum and staff development, materials and more—though certainly, many start with much less. But even $20,000 to $30,000 is a significant sum.
How then did Chabad emissaries open so many early-childhood programs in such a short amount of time?
Part of it was ingenuity on behalf of the shluchim, who believed in the importance of reaching out to young children and their families right away, and made that sentiment known to their communities. Others have benefited from local donors who shared a belief in Jewish education.
But it was the Machne Israel Development Fund, Early Childhood Initiative—which received a $5 million pledge from philanthropists David and Lara Slager of Manhattan—that in the last three years really sparked the rapid expansion of Chabad-run preschools. To qualify for funding, would-be educators had to prove that they had done their research and were prepared to open quality programs. That meant they needed to have detailed operational plans in place, along with a demographic study that showed a need for a preschool in their community.
“We want to know that they’ve done their work,” says Batya Lisker, project administrator for the initiative. “It’s not enough to think a program start can succeed; rather, that they did the work and are realistic, and know what they are dealing with and where they want to go. Their passion needs to be tangible when applying for a grant.”
Some 50 schools have received grants from the fund ranging from $7,500 for a small “Mommy & Me” program to $100,000 for a larger preschool program. While some of the funding was seed money for new schools—such as those in Vail, Colo., and Yorba Linda, Calif.—several of the grants went to already established programs to help them expand their offerings to better serve their constituents.
“Our perspective is that the challenge to Jewish continuity can be solved with a Chabad-preschool experience,” says Lisker. She points to “anecdotal evidence” that shows those who have attended Chabad preschools as youngsters grow up to become active participates in the Jewish community. “Whether it’s supporting Jewish causes or joining a shul or enrolling their own children in Jewish programs,” Lisker says, “ … the Jewish awareness they’ve acquired stays in their hearts and doesn’t just impact them as a child, but in their future as well.”
Having a Chabad-run early-childhood center in a community does more than just mold the minds and bodies of the Jewish youth there, it also builds bridges to local families—a key component in making the schools a success. To that end, many of the schools offer programs for families as well—from holiday parties to group picnics to, in some cases, an actual kosher cafe where parents can spend time with fellow parents.
Classes specifically for the parents are also on the schedule at some schools. For instance, Chai Preschool offers a range of classes—during both daytime and evening hours—that include general parenting workshops and more specific sessions on Shabbat and holidays, challah-baking and more.
“The Jewish classes explain the ‘how to,’ as many of our parents want to know what to do, and also a little about why we have the particular custom or tradition,” says Marcus.
“As you start with young families,” says Rotenstreich, “they learn along with the children.” When the kids come home talking about holidays and Shabbat, the parents start asking questions and then “incorporate things [into their lives] that they feel connected to.”
“The preschool is, literally, the best way to reach out to young families because when they come to town, the No. 1 thing they are looking for is a preschool,” says Rabbi Yosef Greenberg, the Chabad shaliach in Anchorage, Alaska, whose wife, Esty, runs the Gan Yeladim Preschool & Early Learning Center. “And if by sending them to a preschool they see that Judaism gives them love, warmth and a sense of family, they will go for it for the rest of their lives.”
Inspiration Becomes a Lifestyle
Living a religious life was not what Allison Meshwork and her husband, Jason, had planned for when they enrolled their oldest of their four children, Levi, in a Chabad preschool in Toronto. The young, unaffiliated Canadian mother was just looking for a good program, and her friends had recommended the school—Torah Tots Preschool at Chabad of Markham—to her. “It seemed like a nice environment … and I thought it’s a Jewish place, we’re Jewish, and it looks like a good first place to go outside of the home without Mom.
“The only thing that may have concerned me a bit—but it was a fleeting thing—was that we weren’t religious at all, and I wasn’t sure what Levi would be learning and how that would impact what we did at home.”
Then the Meshworks hit a crossroads. Levi, says his mother, “would come home very motivated, happy and excited. It was inspiring to us.”
At that point, they realized they had three choices: The first was to pull their son out of a school he loved because, as Meshwork explains, “he would be disappointed by the things we don’t do that he’s learning about, like Shabbat and holidays, but that didn’t feel right.” The next option was to tell her young son that what he learned at school was fine for school, but not practiced at home. “I probably felt worse about that,” she says, “because what’s the point of sending him to the school if he’s not going to do anything?”
The final option, which the Meshworks ultimately chose, was to “go with it” and make some changes at home.
From there, their exploration of Judaism grew and grew. Today, the family lives an Orthodox, but not Chabad, lifestyle. In fact, they made aliyah in July and now live in Israel. They also all now use their Hebrew names.
Reflecting back on all the changes, Meshwork says: “I wonder where we would be if we hadn’t embraced Judaism. I know [our life] wouldn’t be as enriched as it is now.”
But for that kind of response, the Chabad emissaries need to make sure they are engaging the family at the same time they are educating the children. “People used to say that the Jewish population [in Reno] is aging and shrinking,” says Sarah Cunin, director of the Aleph Academy in Reno, Nev., “but because of the preschool, more young families are connecting to Judaism.”
And if the many shluchim who work in early-childhood education have their way, that will be a model not just for Reno, but for Jewish communities across the country.
This is the second of two articles on Chabad early-childhood education programs.
The first article, The ABCs of Early-Childhood Education: Heritage Starts in the Classroom, can be viewed here.
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More in Jewish News:
  • The ABCs of Early-Childhood Education: Heritage Starts in the Classroom (By Faygie Levy)
New York mom Jennifer Muhlrad recently noticed her younger daughter, 4-year-old Zoe, taking change out her wallet. When Jennifer asked her what she was doing, the little girl responded that she needed the money to give tzedakah, to charity, at her school, the Preschool of the Arts in Lower Manhattan.
“It’s adorable, it’s perfect and exactly what she should be doing at this age. I want my kids to know about the foundations of Judaism, and that’s why Preschool of the Arts is so important. It has a wonderful educational program,” says Muhlrad, whose older daughter, Dalya, 6, also went there.
The preschool is one of an estimated 400 early-childhood centers in North America under the auspices of Chabad-Lubavitch shluchim, or emissaries.
The schools are located in big cities like New York, Los Angeles and Chicago, in addition to smaller communities like Vancouver, Wash.; and Lone Tree, Colo. They cater to a wide range of Jewish families, many of whom do not belong to a synagogue and are not religiously affiliated.
According to Rabbi Nochem Kaplan, director of the education office of Merkos L’Inyonei Chinuch—the educational arm of Chabad-Lubavitch, headquartered in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y.—the number of established schools has risen dramatically in recent years, thanks to enterprising Chabad emissaries, individual donors and a recent grant program.
“In the last 20 years, preschool education has become increasingly important on the American secular educational scene for two basic reasons: one, with two parents working today, most children have to go to a preschool, whereas 50 years ago it was a luxury,” Kaplan explains, adding that research has shown that kids who attend preschool programs perform better in elementary school.
“If you do a quick [online] search, you will find studies that show that the early-childhood years—from an educational standpoint, and from a psychology and brain developmental one—are a very formative time,” says Esty Marcus, director of the Chai Jewish Preschool in Foster City, Calif. “It is a window in time when a child’s emotional and social development is happening.
“If you wait until they’re 5 or 6 to teach them kindness, or how to behave, or how to work with each other or be resilient if someone hurts your feelings, it is much harder,” she adds.
Planting Seeds for the Future
Chabad educators say their push for substantive early education comes directly from the Torah and from the words of the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory.
“The Torah says that children are like a seed,” Marcus explains. “Anything you do will have an impact on them. We want to give them a foundation from when they are very young and surround them with the alef-bet and kedusha [holiness].”
According to a 2008 publication from the Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University, “The emotional and physical health, social skills and cognitive-linguistic capacities that emerge in the early years are all-important prerequisites for success in school, and later, in the workplace and community.”
If that is true from a general development and educational perspective, Chabad educators stress that it’s even more crucial from a Jewish viewpoint to ensure that children have a basic understanding of their heritage. This is especially pertinent in light of a recently released Pew Research Center study that found 30 percent of Jews had no denominational affiliation, and 20 percent said being Jewish is either “not to/not at all” important in their lives.
Preschool can have “life-altering effects,” insists Sarah Rotenstreich, director of Preschool of the Arts. “You can’t make up for the early-childhood years. Judaism has always told us this, but now science is catching up. From a Jewish perspective, [the question is] what memories will they have, what spark can we give?”
“People want an environment that’s warm, loving and educational, and that’s what we try and do,” says Rabbi Mordechai Shain, executive director of Lubavitch of the Palisades in northern New Jersey, which opened its preschool almost 20 years ago and expanded into elementary-school education four years ago. “A lot of it is the teachers—you have to have the right teachers, who are warm, loving and smart, and who can figure out how to transmit the education to the children.”
The early-childhood programs also give young Jewish families the chance to engage Jewishly at a time in their lives when they might not be thinking about continuity and the future. Kaplan notes that many parents don’t join a synagogue until their children are old enough for Hebrew school, and so poses: “What’s giving young families the opportunity to connect to Judaism? Precious little, and that’s where shluchim come in. If there’s a need, the shluchim are there to meet the need.”
Early-childhood programs, he continues, embody a “vehicle and opportunity to help young families begin to orient themselves to living Jewish lives.”
Integrated Into Everything
However, simply talking about the alef-bet and singing traditional songs aren’t enough to appeal to parents who want the best academic program to prepare their child for elementary school, but may not necessarily be looking for a “Jewish” education.
To offer the best, say educators, Judaism must permeate every aspect of the day and be integrated into everything a child does. Thus, a nature walk might lead to a discussion on the beauty of G‑d’s world; a counting game may incorporate the use of plastic dreidels; and setting a table for a pretend dinner may include a loaf of challah, a Kiddush cup and Shabbat candlesticks.
Judaism cannot be treated as a “circle time” event, says Devora Krasnianski, national coordinator of the Chabad Early Childhood Education Network, a project of the Shluchim Office, the global Chabad-Lubavitch resource center. CECE comprises a coalition of about 100 Chabad preschool directors throughout the United States who offer each other advice on a wide range of issues—from handling student challenges to innovative classroom arrangements.
To encourage Chabad-run preschools to offer the best possible programs, Chabad’s national education office has released a booklet, “The How and Why of a Merkos Early Childhood Center.” Among the topics addressed are creating a school’s philosophy; curriculum development; and issues related to children’s health, safety and nutrition. All of the guidelines are designed to help schools reach the preschool standards set forth by the National Council for Private School Accreditation.
That council is comprised of smaller accreditation agencies, including Merkos L’Inyonei Chinuch, which institutes rules designed specifically to address the needs of Orthodox nursery-to-grade-12 schools. Thus far, according to Kaplan, about 40 Chabad programs have received national accreditation.
“As the need for early-childhood education grows, the need for quality education will become much greater,” adds Kaplan. “If parents send their child to preschool, they want to know it’s the best. So, increasingly, the need for accreditation is being felt all over the place.”
Some preschools are also proving their mettle by acing state standards and qualifications, such as the Jewish Early Childhood Center in Boynton Beach, Fla., which has gotten perfect scores from the state’s Voluntary Prekindergarten (VPK) Program’s Provider Kindergarten Readiness Rate four years running and five-star ratings from Quality Counts, a school assessment, for the last three years.
While similarities may exist from program to program, the schools are as unique as the populations they serve, says Krasnianski, adding that there is no one central preschool philosophy.
“Teachers are very sensitive to their clientele; that’s why there’s no general curriculum from Brooklyn [the headquarters of Chabad]. It has to be localized for the specific community and classes,” she says. “Every preschool aims to work with their community. In some communities, Montessori is an exciting way of educating, so Chabad will open a Montessori-style school,” where students learn at their own pace. “In other areas, they may go for a more traditional preschool or a Reggio Emilia program,” a style of teaching founded in post-World War II Italy that focuses on the community’s involvement in a child’s education.
Tuition rates vary from community to community, ranging from a few thousand dollars a year for a smaller, suburban preschool to upwards of $20,000 for a big-city, full-day early-childhood program. Many educators say they try to keep their tuitions on par with other schools in their area and will work with families who want to send their children, but find it financially difficult to do so.
That point was reinforced by Chabad’s educational office in Brooklyn: If parents seek a Chabad preschool, everyone will work togetherto try and make that happen.
Preferring the Philosophy
Rachelle Hornung, who is Orthodox, was so happy with the Chabad-run preschool she sent her older daughter to in Boston that when the family relocated to Long Island, N.Y., she sought out another Chabad preschool. “I recognized that the philosophy differed religiously, as my family and I are not Lubavitch, but I found in the Boston program and in the Five Towns Chabad preschool that . . . they push v’ahvata leracha kamocha [‘Love your fellow [Jew] as yourself’], and I have no problem with my children growing up with that strong sentiment.”
While some choose a Chabad-run preschool for its Jewish substance, others select one because it is simply the best educational facility in their region.
“We are known as one of the top five preschools in town,” says Sarah Cunin, director of the Aleph Academy in Reno, Nev. “We’re part of so many initiatives … and we do a lot of progressive initiatives at our school. Parents just really like the philosophy.”
Now in its fifth year of operation—previously, Cunin had a home-based preschool—Aleph Academy incorporates the Reggio approach, which offers a curriculum dictated by the interests and discussions of the children themselves.
“We thought it was the closest to the Jewish philosophy of ‘Teach your child, according to his way.’ So it really is seeing what our children’s interests are and what can be learned based on that interest,” she explains. “We are big believers in place-based education; that you can learn a lot from where you live. The families here are very outdoorsy, and we have a natural playscape.”
Cunin notes that many of the 40 children between the ages of 18 months and 5 years old who attend the preschool are not observant and/or come from homes where only one parent is Jewish. What draws them in, she says, is the school’s reputation, and the fact that it is entirely “green,” running on solar power.
“The parents who come through our doors are knowledgeable consumers, well aware of developmentally appropriate practices,” says Malkie Herson, who started the Zimmer Preschool at the Chabad Jewish Center in Basking Ridge, N.J., more than a decade ago with just three students, one of them her own son. “Ours is a school that hones the child’s development across the spectrum—emotional, motor, cognitive and spiritual.” The last one, Herson notes, may not necessarily be the goal of the parents who pick her school, but it certainly is one of her key concerns.
“Hashem [G‑d] created us as a total being,” she explains, “with our body, mind and emotions all working in sync. It’s our job as educators to look at the child as a holistic being, and hone their skills and development across the spectrum. Thus, working on motor development is as ‘Jewish’ as all other aspects of education.”
This is the first of two articles on Chabad early-childhood education programs.
The second article, Excellence Is Rule No. 1 When It Comes to Early-Childhood Education, can be viewed here.
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  • A Spiritual Investment in a Promising Part of Detroit (By Carin M. Smilk)
The economic situation in Detroit has gone from bad to worse—worse being that the city filed for bankruptcy last summer, with a court ruling in December that Detroit was eligible for Chapter 9 on its whopping $18.5 billion debt. That fact has followed years of Detroit topping lists of the most crime-ridden or dangerous cities in the United States. It seems the place just can’t get a break.
But at rock bottom, there’s only one way to go, and that’s up. There are optimists out there, and for them, the glass is at least half-full.
Take, for example, Rabbi Yisrael Pinson
A tall man with an easy smile, Pinson, 37, hails from Nice in the south of France. He studied in Israel, England, America, France and Australia, where he received his rabbinical ordination, arriving in Detroit from France in 2000.
Until very recently, the rabbi worked in the suburb of West Bloomfield at the Daniel B. Sobel Friendship House, which provides support and guidance to individuals and families struggling with addiction and other life crises. His wife, Devorah, a Cincinnati native, continues to help at the Friendship House and Friendship Circle, even in the midst of a move to a brand-new Chabad House—officially purchased in mid-December—in the urban area known as Brush Park in Midtown Detroit.
Chabad of Greater Downtown Detroit—known locally by its much catchier name, “Chabad in the D”—is situated in a 105-year-old grand mansion on Mack Avenue, in what was once a wealthy Jewish area. With its striking architecture, own side parking lot and roomy interior—4,300 square feet, plus a basement—the Pinsons thought it seemed right for a Chabad House and home for their five children.
Still, moving past the negative P.R. and building a positive reputation for the neighborhood will take some doing.
“Detroit is in the news for bad reasons,” says Pinson. “So I thought I should start something for good reasons.”
“There are 60,000 Jews in the metropolitan area, most born in Detroit and now living outside of it,” the rabbi goes on to explain. “But they have a nostalgic connection and more. Families are losing young people to Chicago, New York, Miami. If they want their kids to stay, then they need to boost up the city. We need to help make the city attractive to young people.”
Turning Around a Decades-Long Decline
The first recorded Jew in Detroit was Canadian fur trader Chapman Abraham, who had a residence there until his death in 1783. In more contemporary times, the city’s Jewish community saw its halcyon days in the 1940s and ’50s, but by the end of the 1960s, specifically after the Detroit riots in 1967, most left—some residents even use the word “fled”—for the western suburbs.
The continued population drain from the city over the next two decades caused all kinds of economic problems, as did the automobile industry’s increasing woes due to foreign competition, a global rise in fuel prices and plain-old poor management; “Motor City” was spinning its wheels.
But the current generation of young people has a newfound respect for urban life, and a desire for cultural activities and alternative housing. They want to live closer to where they work and study, and some larger companies—Rabbi Pinson notes Quicken Loans, the largest online retail mortgage lender in the United States, headquartered in Detroit—have taken notice and are trying to help expedite that process.
He acknowledges that “we’re at the beginning. We’re trying to create a community where people are comfortable.”
What also helps is a new Whole Foods Market down the street that has a common goal of serving and boosting up the neighborhood. Wayne State University is also just blocks away, attended by more than 30,000 students in all of its various programs, and Pinson currently serves the Jewish students there as the Chabad on Campus representative. Many commute, but that’s a lot of activity for one section of the city. A vegetarian/dairy kosher restaurant already operates on campus, but Pinson is trying to make it cholov Yisroel, where dairy items are closely supervised throughout the production process, so that even strictly observant Jews can eat there. Others are looking to open kosher eateries in the greater downtown area.
As for Devorah Pinson, 34, she currently serves as the program director for the Friendship House and will remain in that position on a part-time basis until a replacement can be found.
In her new location in Detroit proper, she plans to launch the Rosh Chodesh Women Society, which will offer a monthly “women's only” gathering with activities such as cooking and baking classes, as well as lectures and discussions geared towards Jewish women and themed around upcoming Jewish holidays.
“We would also like to become full members of the Midtown community, getting involved in local events and activities," she says. “We are planning to start a community garden this spring, and invite our neighbors to join us and be part of the greening of Brush Park.”
‘Great Energy in the Room’
On Tu B’Shevat, Jan. 16, the Pinsons held an Open House—on the same night as a sudden snowstorm and what turned out to be enormous traffic gridlock from the North American International Auto Show, Detroit’s largest annual event and a consistently impressive one, attended by some 800,000 people. But guests still showed up at Chabad and nibbled on the Seven Species—two grains and five fruits grown and celebrated in Israel.
That night, Rabbi Pinson affixed a new, oversized mezuzah on the front door.
“We opened a Chabad House and on Day One, we had 100 people come in bad weather,” he says. “There was great energy in the room; there were people from different backgrounds who showed a passion and an ambition to do something in Detroit. Now everyone wants to know: What’s next?”
Some have already addressed that question. Justin Jacobs, who returned home to Detroit nearly 10 years ago after graduating from DePaul University in Chicago, lamented the fact that so little existed for young adults outside of work and the occasional trip to the gym. He himself was bored.
“I decided to do something about it, so that I could stay here,” he says. What he did was announce on his Facebook page the creation of a men’s basketball league for his friends, 95 percent of whom were Jewish; 100 people immediately signed up. It became such a success that he followed it by creating a kickball league for women.
One thing led to another and now his company—Come Play Detroit—runs 12 different sports over four seasons. Its web page describes it as “Detroit’s largest provider of recreational sports leagues for adults,” with a fitness studio located downtown.
Jacobs, 31, met Pinson in West Bloomfield, where his younger sister volunteered with the Friendship Circle. He says the rabbi “relates to people directly and makes them feel comfortable. He’s going to be great; he has the personality people want to follow.”
He has been to Shabbat dinners at the Pinson home and wrapped tefillin with him this summer using Google Glass. “I love the sense of community and the feeling that you are part of something special,” he says of Chabad activities.
And he’s confident that Chabad will succeed. “There’s nothing else Jewish in that immediate area. (There is the Isaac Agree Downtown Synagogue, about a mile away on Griswold Street, where it’s been since 1937 and which is also being rejuvenated by young residents.) Like everything else in Detroit, it’s not going to happen overnight,” he says. “But there is a need for it in town. We’re both providing something people want—the social aspect of the Jewish community and the Detroit community.”
His mother, Mindy Krigel, phrases it in stronger language: “I really believe Detroit is coming back. I feel like it’s brewing, percolating. Things are happening.”
She mentions the recent, community-wide Chanukah menorah-lighting, held downtown in front of some 2,000 onlookers—500 more people than last year. It was “huge,” she says.
The West Bloomfield resident comes to the city often because she runs a family pawn shop there. “There are people like me who will definitely go to events [at the new Chabad House]. I’m trying to get others to go, and once they do, they’ll like it.” She thinks that eventually, they will conquer the exaggerated fear of coming into the city.
“Rabbi Pinson is walking the walk and talking the talk,” says the 55-year-old. “I like him. I believe in him. And young people can relate to him; he’s very approachable.”
They are more than relating to him, they are learning from him. The rabbi held his first Thursday-night Kabbalah class about a week after the building’s purchase. Two men and two women gathered around an oval-shaped wooden table on a bitter-cold evening, eyes turned toward Pinson.
Right Time, Right Place
One of them, Ryan Hertz, a metropolitan-area native, has been studying Tanya with the rabbi for about a year-and-a-half. They usually meet at Hertz’s office at the South Oakland Shelter, a homeless service agency he runs.
Hertz, who graduated from Indiana University in Bloomington with a bachelor’s degree in folklore and holds a master’s degree in social work from Wayne State University, explains: “I fell into my faith through studying other religions. I was exposed to a lot of world traditions, but I never really took a deep dive into my own.
“My experience was hazy, a sort of ‘figure it out for yourself’ kind of thing. Over time, I’ve come to have a deep, deep respect for observant Judaism—something I’ve never been exposed to—and a much better understanding of who I am as a Jew. It’s an ongoing relationship, me and my Judaism.”
One thing he has started doing is wrapping tefillin daily “because that act is meaningful to me and because I understand it.”
The 33-year-old insists that serendipity caused his path to intertwine with Pinson’s: “I’ve been exposed to Chabad in other contexts, but Yisrael is unique. He was the right person in the right place at the right time.”
He means that personally and generally, in terms of Detroit and the younger dynamic that’s being attracted to the city and its potential. In fact, both he and Pinson note that the Midtown occupancy rate is higher than ever, and that right now, people are having trouble finding places to rent in the area.
“Jews have a thirst for spirituality; they’ll look for meaning in the world and find it. People are going to be drawn to them,” Hertz says of the Pinsons. “They are making the leap, and I can’t think of it working out better for them … the location, the timing, everything.”
As for him? What does he think of the development of the new Chabad House? Without a moment’s hesitation, he responds: “It’s one of the most exciting things that’s happened to me in some time.”
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