Chabad.org Staff
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The last message that Yoav Hattab, 21, sent before entering the Hyper Cacherkosher supermarket last Friday—where his life was cut short in a brutal act of terrorism—was an SMS message urging a friend to observe the upcomingShabbat.
11:24 Yoav ... try to make the Shabbat as soon as you arrive
11:52 Friend: That is to say?
11:53 Yoav: This is a difficult time in France for Jews ... At least try ...11:53 Friend: This Shabbat is very stressful, i have exams tomorrow morning, and I’m taking a flight, but after the Shabbat
11:53 Yoav: Do not do everything but at least try to do something
11:54 Friend: Ok, don’t worry; of course I’ll do it
11:54 Yoav: You’re the bomb
11:54 Friend: Lol thank you
In a heart-wrenching letter penned this week by Yoav’s father, Rabbi Benjamin Hattab of Tunisia, the revered rabbi and educator urged world Jewry—just as his son had to one friend a week earlier—to increase in love of the Jewish people and the performance of mitzvahs as the most fitting response to terrorism and anti-Semitism.
“If I can make one request, it would be to continue Yoav’s embrace of life, to perpetuate it, to be infected by his love and to try to love the Jewish people even more,” Rabbi Hattab wrote. “And, like Yoav, to encourage everyone you know to increase in mitzvahs for the merit of his soul and the souls of his fellow victims, Yohan, Philippe and François-Michel.”
Rabbi Hattab wrote glowingly of his son and his commitment to Judaism.
“Yoav had a special love for Shabbat. He would prepare for Shabbat, buying the best foods and preparing them himself. Before Shabbat, he would bathe and apply fragrance, like a groom for a bride, and then proceed to synagogue, where he would lead services.”
Yoav Hattab sent this last SMS last Friday just before entering the Hyper Cacher supermarket, where he was shot and killed.
“He would rise early on Shabbat morning to study the weekly Torah portion. Even in his last moments, he was on his way to purchase special foods with which to honor his beloved Shabbat.”
“He never missed a day of donningtefillin. And he had regular times to learn Torah with a rabbi in his community, who invited him to a special session they spent together in the morning of that tumultuous Friday a week ago.”
“Yoav was meticulous about keeping the mitzvot, including the command to honor one’s parents. Simultaneously, he was always encouraging his friends to add one more mitzvah, and then another one.”
Rabbi Hattab emphasized the observance of the Jewish Sabbath in memory of his son:
“I’d like to ask specifically that all add in honoring the Shabbat queen, who was so dear to our son,” he urged. “Even if you do not yet feel ready to keep the entire Shabbat, try to keep it at least partially. Light the Shabbat candles, hold a Shabbat meal with your family, attend prayers at synagogue—and when you hear the sweet voice of the cantor, please remember the sweet voice of our dear Yoav, the voice that is singing in heaven for all the righteous souls, “Let us sing before G‑d!”
“It would be particularly touching to do this now,” Hattab concluded, “while still in the shiva mourning period for the departed.”
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| Yoav Hattab, right, with a friend. |
By the Grace of G-d
Friday, Erev Shabbat, Parshat Vaera
25 Tevet, 5775 - Jan. 15, 2015
The past few days, I felt the love of the entire Jewish people. I felt the heavy mourning that descended upon us all with the gruesome murder of Yoav, who was killed together with Yohan, François-Michel and Philippe at the hands of terrorists.
This love touched our hearts deeply, and I feel the need to put to paper my feelings and share them with you. What can I write about Yoav—a charming young man, the love of my heart—who was snatched from us so suddenly? Dear Yoav, you left us a gaping hole, an oozing wound in our hearts that will never be healed. On Friday afternoon, we got the awful phone call from Paris. We were told that a terrorist had taken over the Hyper Cacher supermarket, and that our Yoav was inside. There were rumors that a number of people had been killed struggling with the terrorist.
In tears, I told the people I was with that I am sure Yoav was among them. Because Yoav was not one to stand by quietly watching a terrorist try to kill people. I knew that he would fight; I knew he would do everything in his power to stop the savagery, even if it meant putting his own life on the line.
A few hours later, my instincts were tragically proven right. Shortly after the terrorist had entered the store, Yoav took one of his weapons and tried to shoot him. The gun jammed, and the terrorist shot him dead on the spot.
Yoav’s soul ascended on high, directly to paradise, to be with all the righteous people, together with the other martyrs who gave their lives to sanctify G-d’s name.
Yoav grew up in a home steeped in education. Our family has the great merit to continue the mission of Rabbi Nissan Pinson, may his memory be a blessing, and his life’s partner, may she live and be well, Rachel, who were sent by the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—to Tunis to breathe life into the Jewish community and to found educational institutions.
Yoav was a great student. But even more than that, he was devoted to the service of G-d and overflowed with love for his fellow Jews. He was filled with concern and love for everyone, helping others at every possible opportunity.
Yoav Hattab sent this last SMS last Friday just before entering the Hyper Cacher supermarket, where he was shot and killed.
Yoav was blessed with a sweet voice. He was a cantor and Torah reader, whose songs and prayers were a pleasure to listen to. He would pray and read the Torah with his whole heart—and his voice touched everyone.
And he didn’t utilize his gifts only for himself: He regularly prepared children for their bar mitzvahs, teaching them in the evening after long days at work, doing so at no charge. And quietly, without any fanfare, he also gave a lot of charity.
Yoav will be sorely missed by his family, who love him so much, but almost equally by his friends, to whom he was always so devoted and helpful.
‘Honor the Shabbat Queen’
Yoav had a special love for Shabbat. He would prepare for Shabbat, buying the best foods and preparing them himself. Before Shabbat, he would bathe and apply fragrance, like a groom for a bride, and then proceed to synagogue, where he would lead services.
He would rise early on Shabbat morning to study the weekly Torah portion. Even in his last moments, he was on his way to purchase special foods with which to honor his beloved Shabbat.
He never missed a day of donning tefillin. And he had regular times to learn Torah with a rabbi in his community, who invited him to a special session they spent together in the morning of that tumultuous Friday a week ago.
Yoav was meticulous about keeping the mitzvot, including the command to honor one’s parents. Simultaneously, he was always encouraging his friends to add one more mitzvah, and then another one. In the last SMS conversation he had, only minutes before entering Hyper Cacher, he urged his friend to increase his observance of Shabbat. He wrote, “This is a difficult time in France for Jews ... try at least to do something [in observance of Shabbat].”
That was our beloved Yoav.
The past few days, we received so much love and support from the Jewish people. Thousands of individuals who never even met Yoav came to his funeral to comfort us and share our grief. This touched our hearts deeply.
If I can make one request, it would be to continue Yoav’s embrace of life, to perpetuate it, to be infected by his love and to try to love the Jewish people even more. And, like Yoav, to encourage everyone you know to increase inmitzvahs for the merit of his soul and the souls of his fellow victims, Yohan, Philippe and François-Michel.
Your good deeds will continue their lives, which were abruptly cut short. This is what Yoav loved, and now, from paradise, he is looking down together with his fellow victims and taking pleasure in the sight of us continuing his way, adding good deeds and encouraging others to do the same.
I’d like to ask specifically that all add in honoring the Shabbat queen, who was so dear to our son. Even if you do not yet feel ready to keep the entire Shabbat, try to keep it at least partially. Light the Shabbat candles, hold a Shabbat mealwith your family, attend prayers at synagogue—and when you hear the sweet voice of the cantor, please remember the sweet voice of our dear Yoav, the voice that is singing in heaven for all the righteous souls, “Let us sing before G-d!” It would be particularly touching to do this now, while still in the shivamourning period for the departed.
Our Yoav, please pray to the Master of the World that He put an end to all our people’s suffering, that he send us Moshiach, and that we once again see you and hug you.
We love you very much and will always be thinking of you.
Binyamin Batu Hattab
Tunis
Rabbi, Grande Synagogue
Director, Yeshivah Oholei Yosef Yitzchak Lubavitch school
You are invited to share your condolences with the family using the reader comments.
PARSHAH
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Parshah
Sun or Moon: Which One Are You?
By Menachem Feldman
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Sun and Moon
People have always looked up to the heavens for clues about the mysteries of the universe, and for an understanding of their place within it.
Some fell in love with the moon, intrigued by her soft and gentle glow, comforted by her light illuminating the night sky. As they watched the waxing and waning of the moon, completing a cycle in just about thirty days, they realized that she offered a convenient and straightforward way to mark the passage of time.
As people became more sophisticated and started developing agriculture, they began to realize the significance of the solar cycle. Although the changes in the sun's position is harder to notice as compared with the changing shape of the moon, they understood the power of the solar calendar to predict major economic events. To know when to plant or to predict the overflowing of the Nile, you need to look to the sun. Craving the sun’s power, strength and brilliance, they began moving away from the lunar calendar and adopting the solar one.
The Mitzvah
The first mitzvah G‑d commanded the Jewish people, just as He was about to liberate them from Egypt and establish them as an independent, free people, was the commandment to establish a Hebrew calendar. As slaves, they did not control their own time, nor were they free to think about time on their own terms. Their time—and their perspective on life—was controlled by the powerful Egyptians. To be truly free, they would have to learn to think about time—its purpose and meaning—on their own terms.
So which calendar should they choose?
Which would be their primary one? Would they identify with the mighty, powerful, masculine sun, or with the more subtle, reflective, feminine beauty of the moon?
An essential feature of the Hebrew calendar is that it synchronizes the lunar and solar cycles. It does so by establishing a leap year, adding a lunar month approximately every three years, closing the eleven-day gap between the lunar and solar years.
While not the first to sync the calendars, the Hebrew calendar is unique in that the synchronization of the sun and the moon is a central feature.
G‑d and Us
The way we think about time informs our attitude towards the universe as a whole: What is the purpose of creation? Does life have meaning? Does time have meaning? The Jew’s answer is that the purpose of everything is the unity of the sun and the moon, of giver and receiver, of G‑d and the Jewish people.
The brilliant sun symbolizes the consistent, powerful and illuminating light of G‑d. The moon shining in the dark sky represents the Jewish people, whose job it is to reflect the light of G‑d into a dark world. The Jewish people, therefore, are subject to challenges imposed by the world. At times they shine in all their glory, and at times their light is hidden.
The first commandment demonstrates the goal of all the following commandments, which is to synchronize the sun and the moon. Every mitzvah we perform draws down divine energy and connects the light of G‑d with the Jew in this world, uniting them, forming one reality where “in the heaven above and on the earth below, there is nothing besides Him.”
Moses and Aaron
No surprise then, that the commandment to establish the calendar was one of just a few commandments related to both Moses and Aaron: “ The Lord spoke to Moses and to Aaron in the land of Egypt, to say . . .”
If our calendar synchronizes the sun and the moon, then it should be given through our metaphorical sun and moon. Moses, through whom the Torah was given, is our sun. He shines with a radiant light from above, communicating divine wisdom with great passion and energy. Aaron is our moon. He teaches us how to refine ourselves to the point that we can reflect the light of G‑d. He teaches us how to get along with other people. He understands that peace may, in some cases, be more important than truth.
Both the word of G‑d and the way the people absorb and reflect it are important to our mission. We need a Moses and an Aaron. A sun and a moon.
Rabbi Menachem Feldman serves as the director of the Lifelong Learning department at the Chabad Lubavitch Center in Greenwich, CT.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Parshah
Reality Check
By Chaya Shuchat
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Parshah
Have You Seen a Miracle Lately?
By Chana Weisberg
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Dear reader,
I see miracles all the time. Walking, talking miracles.
If I would be on the lookout, I would notice many more of these living miracles. But every once in a while, the miracle just stares me in the eye and it becomes too hard to ignore.
Like the Holocaust survivor I met, who saw horrors that no mortal eye should see, yet refuses to miss his daily prayers.
Or the young woman with flaming red curls who approached me after my hair-covering lecture to tell me she plans to cover her beautiful locks once she marries, but wants advice on how to sensitively approach her parents so they don’t feel rejected by her lifestyle change.
Or the woman who had an abusive childhood and who would be justified in giving in to bouts of depression, but is determined to use her experience instead to grow spiritually and bring joy to our world.
Or the man I met in a small European town who decided to uproot himself and move to a new country, a new language and a new career in order to find and marry a Jewish woman.
These are all miracles. The repercussions of each of these nature-defying acts are world-shattering.
These are people inspired to bring positive change to their lives. People who don’t allow the natural heavy pull of inertia, pain or disillusionment to hold them back from achieving greatness. People who break all barriers to connect with their divine soul.
In this week’s Torah portion, after the miraculous ten plagues are visited on the Egyptians, G‑d commands Moses, “This month shall be to you the head of the months; to you it shall be the first of the months of the year.” (Exodus 12:2)
Up until this point, Tishrei, the month of creation, was considered the first month of the year. Although Tishrei still begins the new year, when counting the months Nisan is considered the first month, and Tishrei the seventh.
When G‑d created the world, He set up divine forces, which we call nature, to govern it. Miracles were the exception. Therefore Tishrei, the month in which the world and its natural forces came into being, was considered the primary month.
But then came the birth of the Jewish people, a nation that would become living, walking miracles. The miraculous Exodus and our subsequent survival throughout our tumultuous history defy the very laws of nature. The existence of the Jewish people proves that when you are attached to G‑d and His Torah, you are not subject to natural limitations.
And the most profound way in which we transcend nature is by fusing heaven and earth, by breaking through our physical and emotional limitations, striving higher and bringing an awareness of an infinite G‑d into this finite, material world.
Here’s to a week full of living miracles!
Chana Weisberg,
Editor, TJW
Chana Weisberg is the editor of TheJewishWoman.org. She lectures internationally on issues relating to women, relationships, meaning, self-esteem and the Jewish soul. She is the author of five popular books.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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VIDEO
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A documentary film crew comes to Rabbi Kadoozy's Synagogue to explore daily Jewish life and Jono explains why he's dressing mice up in sweaters.
Dovid Taub & Jonathan Goorvich
<script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://embed.chabad.org/multimedia/mediaplayer/embedded/embed.js.asp?aid=1703905&width=auto&height=auto"></script><span style="clear:both;" class="lb" id="lbdiv">Visit <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish.TV</a> for more <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish videos</a>.</span>
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More in Video:
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http://www.chabad.org/2815201
http://www.chabad.org/therebbe/livingtorah/player_cdo/aid/2815201/jewish/When-the-Alter-Rebbe-Chopped-Wood.htm |
| | • What Happens When We Get to the Next World? (By Shifra Sharfstein) |
<script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://embed.chabad.org/multimedia/mediaplayer/embedded/embed.js.asp?aid=2813832&width=auto&height=auto"></script><span style="clear:both;" class="lb" id="lbdiv">Visit <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish.TV</a> for more <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish videos</a>.</span> |
Focus on France
Campus Chabads to Host ‘French-Themed’ Shabbat Dinners
By Karen Schwartz, Chabad.edu
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| Sara Alevsky, co-director of Chabad at Case Western & University Circle in Cleveland with her husband, Rabbi Mendy Alevsky, is incorporating this logo for a student Shabbat dinner. |
With terrorist murders in France, as well as growing campus anti-Semitism on the minds of Jewish students everywhere, some Chabad on Campus chapters are making special efforts this Shabbat to feature French-themed Shabbat dinners in a show of unity and support for French and world Jewry. They can also serve to help students deepen their understanding of the recent tragic events through the Torah’s teachings.
France is still reeling from a week of violence that included the murderous attack on the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo, which left 12 dead; the killing of a female police officer; and the murder of four Jewish men by a terrorist holding Shabbat shoppers hostage for hours in a kosher grocery store in Paris.
Rabbi Yehoshua Chincholker, co-director of the Indiana University Chabad House-Jewish Student Center in Bloomington, Ind., is inviting students to join him and his wife, Zlata, this Friday night for a Paris-themed Shabbat. Similar gatherings will be taking place at Case Western Reserve in Cleveland; the University of Central Florida in Orlando; Syracuse University in Upstate New York; Chabad on Campus NL & Amsterdam Zuidas in the Netherlands; in addition to a number of other Chabad on Campus centers around the world.
“It’s called ‘Paris Shabbat’ in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in France,” explains Chincholker. They plan, for example, to have a French-baguette challah and tablecloths patterned after the French flag.
Additionally, a young man from Marseilles—in the south of France and a city with a sizable Jewish population—is scheduled to talk about his experiences there. Then the rabbi plans to open up the discussion as to what students would do if they were living in France right now.
The event has been posted on Facebook, and is expected to draw between 50 and 70 participants, according to the rabbi. “I think the students are thinking about what happened in France, and they are looking for some place they can express themselves,” he says. That means also talking about any concerns and fears they might have for their own security as Jews.
Chincholker says students should be encouraged and inspired to take on mitzvahs. Specifically, he will be publicizing the wrapping of tefillin, eating kosher food and affixing mezuzahs to doorways.
It’s important to enhance Jewish identity and pride among young adults, he says, “so they’ll be happy being Jewish.”
Also on the agenda is the singing of “Napoleon’s March,” a marching tune played by the armies of French Gen. Napoleon Bonaparte, which Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (the Alter Rebbe) transformed into a Chassidicniggun.
“We have encouraged Chabad Houses on campus globally to dedicate their Shabbat experiences in the merit of the French Jewish community,” says Rabbi Yossy Gordon, executive vice president of Chabad on Campus International. “We know that every Jew is family, and in this time of distress, we want to show that we care.”
‘Shabbat Around the World’
Sara Alevsky, co-director of Chabad at Case Western & University Circle in Cleveland, and her husband, Rabbi Mendy Alevsky, are welcoming students back for their first Shabbat of the new calendar year.
They’re planning to host 10 to 20 students at their house for a France-themed Shabbat dinner. Sara Alevsky has been talking with a friend, an emissary in France, who gave her some ideas for how to make Shabbat food with a French twist. “We’ll have chicken in wine [coq au vin], and French desserts like crème brûlée and lemon meringue pie.”
Chabad holds a Shabbat dinner weekly, and three times a semester also features “Shabbat Around the World,” focusing on a different city or country with a Jewish tie-in. Under the current circumstances, France was a natural choice.
“Usually, we wouldn’t do a themed Shabbat right after they come back,” explains Alevsky, “but this week, because of what happened, that’s why we’re doing it—to support the students, give room for discussion about what happened and have them voice their opinions.”
Rabbi Yehoshua Chincholker, co-director of the Indiana University Chabad House-Jewish Student Center in Bloomington, Ind., in front of the campus Chabad center; he and his wife, Zlata, are sponsoring a “Paris Shabbat” for students this week in solidarity with the Jews of France.
In Florida, 20-year-old Rachel Sorsher pitched the idea of a Paris-themed Shabbat dinner for her campus Chabad, co-directed by Rabbi Chaim and Rivkie Lipskier, as a way to show support for France during this “tough time.”
The junior at the University of Central Florida in Orlando says they’re planning on incorporating red, white and blue from the flag into decorations, as well as create a menu featuring dishes like salad niçoise and tomato soup Française.
“I think this Shabbat is important because it’s our right not only as Jews, but as human beings, to be able to freely believe in and practice what we wish,” she says of the significance of this week’s Shabbat service and meal.
In the face of terrorism, she notes, it is important to stand strong: “By being brave, continuing to do the things that mean so much to us, we create more light to dispel the darkness. We don’t let them win.”
For more information on events at local college or university campuses, contact Chabad on Campus at www.chabad.edu.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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SPIRITUALITY
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Why I No Longer Hate Religion
By Anonymous
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I used to hate being religious. All the can’t do’s, don’t do’s, have to’s and you-really-should do’s were just not my thing. Who cares about so many details? Who cares if my candy is kosher? Who cares if I observe all of Shabbat, or if I only mumble half the prayers every morning? Or if I do any of the other stuff I have to do to be considered a “good girl”?
I used to hate being religiousAs a preteen, I wasn’t bothered so much about what I had to do; it was more about what I was missing out on—not being able to wear all the cool clothes, or go to certain concerts. Why can’t I watch any movie? Why can’t I eat at this friend’s house?
As I entered my teen years, my mind started working overtime. What is this? What’s in it for me? All day I have to live by these rigid rules, and then what? Where’s my prize, where’s my goody bag?
I looked around and saw some people leading happy, kind, productive lives, though they were completely irreligious, while there were some so-called religious people who were the absolute opposite of what they were preaching to me all day long. My sense of right and wrong was going crazy. How could it be that my Jewish studies teacher could teach us a lesson about love for one’s fellow, yet in the very same breath tear down a girl and shame her in front of a whole class?
And my mind kept fighting the system, the education that I was receiving. What kind of religion is this, that G‑d’s mercy is dependent on petty actions? Is He not our Father? Why is there so much suffering for the righteous, anguish for the kind, distress for the merciful? Why does my relationship with the all-loving, encompassing G‑d have to be dependent on these picayune actions? The G‑d who's supposed to love me is going to send me to hell because I missed out on some mitzvah? How, I wondered, did no one else see this situation the way I perceived it? They say religion is the opiate of the masses. And yes, I thought, the truth in that was quite apparent.
My thoughts and theories leaked into my actions, and I often was rebellious, angry, sad and confused. Nauseated by the tumultuous rollercoaster ride of my mind, I became indifferent to rules and higher-ups. Whenever I was told, "Don’t do this! You must do that!" it made me so angry. Who has the right to tell me what, how and when to do what I want to do?
Often I heard, “This life is so much better and fulfilling! Why look outside when you have everything here?" Well, I felt that just because I had been given the so-called truth, I still needed to search for and find it on my own.
And so I did. I searched, I asked, I read, I thought, I explored. And when you dig, you find diamonds. Sure, there’s dirt—there are religious leaders and educators who are hypocrites, there are rabbis who claim to be all that and they are anything but—yet what I learned is that Judaism is so much more than the real and imperfect people associated with it. It’s about G‑d, deep teachings, the Rebbeim, the Torah and how I fit into all of this.
One of the fundamental changes took place when someone suggested that the key to getting on board was to create a personal connection with G‑d. My first response was, “That’s a nice thought. A little cheesy, but cute.”
Eventually, I really started to think about it.
The more I ruminated over this idea, the more the ingenuity of this concept hit me! A personal connection with G‑d. The same G‑d that I referred to when I said, "Oh, my G‑d!" when I stubbed my toe or when I was surprised, excited, angry, annoyed—that was the same G‑d in the heavens, the G‑d who provided me with my life. That was the same G‑d in the Torah who spoke to Moses, who revealed Himself to Abraham, who split the sea. That was my G‑d? That was my G‑d. My personal G‑d! My direct line above!
As part of the 12-step recovery program for addicts, the first step is admitting that you are powerless over your addiction. In my own process of discovery, I realized that although I thought I was smarter than everyone else out there, all my genius theories were not getting me anywhere. I wasn’t able to figure out the secrets of the world, the secret to why the world was corrupt, or why G‑d never came to me and revealed Himself, saying, "I am G‑d!" I came to understand that, in a sense, I was addicted to not letting myself understand, not letting myself hear answers or listen to solutions. And yes, I did become powerless—I was going in circles, obsessively looking for answers, yet not listening to them when they came.
Once I understood the cycle of what was going on in me, I was able to take a step back and evaluate myself, leading me to step number two: coming to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity. Did I honestly and truly believe that there was no G‑d? Did I really think this world just made itself it up, just fell into being by some random coincidence? And even if it did, something had to have made the coincidence happen. Sure, in my mind it didn’t really make sense to believe in G‑d, yet it made even less sense not to believe. And that G‑d who I didn’t understand, He was the one who had power over me, over my life, over my world, over the universe, and with the power of my belief in Him, my life could take on a whole new meaning.
WhichI have actively chosen to take His hand led me to number three, making an active decision to turn my will over to G‑d. I understood that even though I didn’t understand G‑d and His ways, it didn’t make Him exist any less. No matter how hard I cried, no matter how much I kicked and screamed, the upper hand in the situation here was just that—the upper hand, the hand of G‑d. I understood and recognized that He was the power in this state of affairs, and as I assessed what was going on, I realized that I could either have a temper tantrum, or I could lovingly take the hand that I was being offered, and walk through this world with the best protection, love and care ever possible.
Thank G‑d, I have actively chosen to take His hand.
True, many of my questions remain unanswered, but I now understand and believe that there are answers and reasons to what is going on, and I trust with full faith that whatever G‑d dishes out is for the best. And yes, the nuances still exist, but they are no longer nuances, they are the key to my love affair with G‑d. They're the chocolates I give Him, the gifts I prepare. Doing the right thing, saying the right thing, wearing the right thing—it’s all still laborious, yet now that my mind is open, it’s a labor of love.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Spirituality
Answers in Boxes
Based on letters and talks of the Rebbe, Rabbi M. M. Schneerson
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How could it be that a prayer goes unanswered?
Some will tell you that every prayer is answered, but sometimes the answer is, “no”.
Those who say this do not understand the secret of prayer. For prayer is when a human being below burns down the walls of his or her own ego, bringing delight to the One Above. And when delight is brought Above, it must return below.
So some will tell you that, yes, the prayer is always answered, but perhaps only in a spiritual realm. Not always can a prayer affect the coarseness of our material world.
But this cannot be, for the human being below did not pray for a spiritual blessing, but for a material one. To the place from which the prayer came, to there the blessing must return.
Rather, it must be that every prayer is answered, in our world, now, for the one who prayed and for that which he prayed.
The problem is only in the packaging—that it is wrapped up in the messy business of our coarse and dark world, so that at times we cannot see through the wrappings to discover the answer to our prayer.
But there will be a time when all of us will return to the One Above with all our hearts, and then all the concealment of this world will be shattered. The wrappings will fall away and we will see how each prayer was answered in its time. And we will hold all the blessings of all those millennia in our hands.
From the wisdom of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous memory; words and condensation by Rabbi Tzvi Freeman. To order Rabbi Freeman’s book, Bringing Heaven Down to Earth,click here.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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YOUR QUESTIONS
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Must I Learn Hebrew?
By Levi Greenberg
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Question:
Thank you for your kind invitation to join one of your Torah classes. I have a strong desire to broaden my knowledge of my heritage, but I currently feel inadequate about pursuing these studies. Although I know how to read Hebrew, I do not understand a word of it. Should learning the language of the Torah not be my first priority?
Answer
Many people mistakenly think it necessary to first learn the language of the Torah and only then to consider studying our beautiful heritage. Although Hebrew comprehension is very desirable, learning a new language demands a considerable investment of time and energy and is not very inspiring, and your initial enthusiasm may fade. It is for this reason that all of my Torah classes are taught in English.
There is a prevalent misconception that throughout our history, Hebrew was the spoken language of our ancestors. In truth, this language was commonly used only during the first millennium of our nation’s existence. After the destruction of the First Holy Temple (422 BCE), the Jews were exiled from Israel. As a result of the great dispersion, the language of the masses became mixed with other dialects, not unlike Spanglish.
In fact, this was the catalyst for the standardized prayer liturgy that we have today. Maimonides writes that when the Jews returned to Israel to build the Second Holy Temple, the leaders realized that the common folk were not fluent, and could not express themselves eloquently, in Hebrew. Consequently, the people were unable to communicate with G‑d through prayer in pure Hebrew. The rabbis therefore established a fixed text for daily prayer.
The spoken languages during the Second Temple and Talmudic eras (352 BCE–500 CE) were various dialects of Aramaic. Although the scholars would learn in Hebrew, their discussions were redacted in the Talmud and Zohar in Aramaic. In subsequent generations, even Torah scholarship was discussed and debated in other languages. Many of Maimonides’s great works were written in Arabic, and the chassidic masters would communicate the lofty secrets of the Torah in Yiddish (a Jewish-German dialect spoken in Europe for generations).
Understanding the language of our tradition has always been a challenge, but never a barrier, to Torah study. Obviously, to render a halachic ruling or to develop an authoritative interpretation in Torah, one must be sufficiently fluent in the original. However, there is plenty of Torah to be learned in a plethora of languages. I encourage you to embark on the journey of Torah discovery and allow Hebrew to come with time.
Please click here for a discussion on the pros and cons of praying in Hebrew vs. the vernacular.
Rabbi Levi Greenberg is the director of programming at Chabad Lubavitch of El Paso, Texas.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Your Questions
What's the Role of a Best Man in a Jewish Wedding?
By Dovid Zaklikowski
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Truth be told, the idea of a "best man" is not a Jewish custom.
Nevertheless, if there is a specific individual whom you wish to honor, a Jewish wedding offers many opportunities to do so.
Examples of the tasks which can be delegated:
- He can hold the wedding ring for the groom until the moment when it is needed beneath the chupah.
- He can be made responsible for the ketubah (marriage contract). The ketubah is given to the bride beneath the chupah, and needs to be safeguarded (or placed in a secure place) from that point until the bride takes it home with her later on after the reception.
- He could also serve as a witness for the ketubah, or one of the other witnesses that are needed in the course of a Jewish wedding (click here for witness qualifications).
- The chupah also needs a master of ceremonies, to announce those who will be honored to recite the blessings over the cup of wine.
- And if your dear friend would like to toast you and your bride at the wedding reception, saying l'chaim and wishing another well is certainly a Jewish tradition...
For more ideas, see our Wedding Honoree List.
For more about Jewish wedding, see our Marriage mini-site.
Rabbi Dovid Zaklikowski,
Chabad.org
Dovid Zaklikowski is the director of Lubavitch Archives, a freelance journalist and public speaker. Dovid and his wife Chana Raizel are the proud parents of four: Motti, Meir, Shaina & Moshe Binyomin.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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JEWISH HISTORY
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The Fascinating Life of Rabbi Yaakov Aizer Dubrow
By Yehudis Litvak
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| Rabbi Yaakov Aizer Dubrow was a lifelong student and teacher of his beloved Torah. |
A true servant of G- d is able to do His will and bring others closer to Torah no matter the circumstances, to rise above differences and work with other Jews to increase Torah learning and mitzvah observance. Rabbi Yaakov Aizer Dubrow, of blessed memory, was such a person. Forced to move, first within Europe and then across the ocean to America, due to pogroms and persecution, he influenced and strengthened every community he joined. He remained loyal to his rebbe even when separated from him and, at same time, built relationships with many rabbis outside of his chassidic community, working together with them on many communal matters.
Rabbi Dubrow was born in 1881 in Zlobin, Belarus, to Rav Elyakim Getzel and Devorah Dubrow. His father, a judge and a student of the Mir yeshivah, devoted his life to Torah learning. Rabbi Dubrow followed in his father’s footsteps, dedicating his life to learning and teaching Torah. In Elul of 1897, at age 16, he left home to study at the newly-formed Chabad yeshivah, Tomchei Temimim, which was founded by the Rebbe Rashab, Rabbi Sholom Dovber Schneerson, the fifth Chabad Rebbe, in the town of Lubavitch in Belarus. After six years in Tomchei Temimim, Rabbi Dubrow received rabbinical ordination from Rabbi Shneur Zalman Kliatzkin, head of beit din (the Jewish court) of Rogotchov, and Rabbi Dovid Tzvi Chein of Chernigov.
Throughout his life, Rabbi Dubrow remained a chassid, first of the Rebbe Rashab and then, after the Rashab’s passing in 1920, of the Previous Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, who had been the head of school of Tomchei Temimim. Rabbi Dubrow arrived in America before the Previous Rebbe, and he was instrumental in helping to bring him to America.
Rabbi Dubrow maintained a correspondence with the Previous Rebbe, and some of his letters are preserved in the Chabad archives. He addressed his Rebbe as “a true chassid,” sent him money for the upkeep of his family (as is customary among chassidim) and signed his letters as “avdo v’talmido,” “his servant and student.” The Rebbe's letters to Rabbi Dubrow are warm and caring.
Rabbi Dubrow married Chana Leah Shifrin, the daughter of the well-known Lubavitcher chassid, Gershon Shifrin. The Dubrows had seven children.
Mrs. Chana Leah Dubrow was a key partner in many of her husband’s accomplishments.
Rebbetzin Chana Leah spoke several languages and was highly educated, the only religious girl in her town to go to high school. Her top priority, however, was her husband’s Torah learning. When the Dubrows were in Odessa, before they left to America, they ran out of money to provide for their basic needs. Rebbetzin Chana Leah went out to sell apples in the market in order to ensure that her husband could continue learning undisturbed.
Rabbi Dubrow must have been an outstanding scholar, because after he received rabbinical ordination, the Skverer Rebbe, Rabbi Dovid Twerski, hired him as a teacher for his son, Rabbi Yitzchak. After teaching Rabbi Yitzchak Gemara (Talmud) for two years, Rabbi Dubrow became a rosh hayeshivah (head of school) in Zivostav, a town near Kiev in Ukraine. Two years later, he became the rabbi of Shpitznitz, a town near Berdichev, where he remained for 12 years.
In 1920 there was a pogrom in Shpitznitz, and Rabbi Dubrow escaped to Podolia and became the rabbi of Strizhivka, a town near Vinnitsa. While not much is known about Rabbi Dubrow’s life in Europe, it is clear that he was appreciated as a Torah scholar and was given rabbinical positions wherever he went.
Rabbi Dubrow’s younger brother, Pesach Dubrow, had moved to America, and he arranged for Rabbi Dubrow and his family to join him. In 1924, at the age of 43, Rabbi Dubrow arrived in America.
Rabbi Yaakov Aizer Dubrow served as a rabbi in Washington, D.C., in the first half the 20th Century.
At the time, there were very few Lubavitcher chassidim living in America. Rabbi Dubrow found himself in a foreign land, far from his Rebbe and from other chassidim who shared his spiritual aspirations. But none of that deterred Rabbi Dubrow from serving G‑d under these new conditions. He intended to continue teaching Torah and leading a congregation in spiritual matters. And his scholarship and leadership qualities were recognized outside of the Chabad community. It was a non-chassidic rabbi, Rabbi Avraham Nachman Schwartz of Baltimore, who wrote a letter recommending Rabbi Dubrow for a position as a community rabbi. In 1925 Rabbi Dubrow was hired by Kesher Israel Congregation of Georgetown in Washington, D.C., as its first spiritual leader.
Rabbi Dubrow’s congregants in Washington appreciated his Torah scholarship and valued his lectures, and he taught a daily Gemara class at Kesher Israel. One congregant wrote, “The whole community is pleased with his richly spiritual lectures which he gives every Shabbat in synagogue.”Another congregant, Mr. Lee Greenstein, who was a child at the time, fondly recalls listening as the distinguished-looking rabbi addressed the crowd in Yiddish on Yom Kippur. Rabbi Dubrow also gave regular classes for the elderly at the Hebrew Home for the Aged. A local newspaper article described a celebration marking the completion of the second volume of the Talmud and the second volume of the Mishnah which took place at the Home for the Aged and reported that Rabbi Dubrow “gave a very interesting philosophical talk of the contents of these books.”
A contemporary newspaper clipping describing one of Rabbi Dubrow’s many deep lectures.
We can assume that Rabbi Dubrow also learned Chabad chassidic teachings with his congregants, and indeed, a set of Likutei Torah, written by the Alter Rebbe, the first Rebbe of Chabad, was recently found at Kesher Israel. Inside the books there is a list of synagogue members who contributed towards their purchase; Rabbi Dubrow is listed at the top.
Rabbi Dubrow’s love for Torah extended to Torah books. In his home in Washington, D.C., which was located above a department store, he collected books, old and new. However, he was willing to part with his precious books for a greater cause. In 1940 the Previous Rebbe miraculously escaped from war-torn Europe to New York, but he wasn’t able to bring his extensive library with him. Rabbi Dubrow wrote a letter to the Previous Rebbe, lovingly describing a 250-year-old book (Midrash Rabbah on Bereishit) which he had bound and which sat on his bookshelf “like a precious stone.” “It is very dear and beloved to me,” he wrote to the rebbe. Then he offered the book to the rebbe as a gift. “With this I will know,” he wrote, “that my heart is close to him [the Previous Rebbe] just as his heart is close to me.” The Previous Rebbe wrote a warm response accepting the gift. This book can still be found in the Chabad library in Crown Heights.
As a community rabbi in Washington, Rabbi Dubrow drew not only on his love for Torah and holy books, but also on his love for his fellow Jews. The challenges he faced in America were very different from those he had dealt with in Europe. While his congregation consisted mostly of recent immigrants from Eastern Europe, and services had always been conducted in the familiar European manner, many synagogue members were not fully observant. Like other Jewish immigrants of that era, they struggled with Shabbat observance because of financial pressures. Jewish residents of Georgetown supported themselves by operating small shops in the neighborhood, selling groceries, fabrics, clothes, shoes and liquor. The stores were run as family businesses, with children often helping their parents. The storekeepers who prayed at Kesher Israel on Shabbat were often in a rush to finish the services before noon so that they could open their stores. Other areas of observance were also being neglected.
Rabbi Dubrow with Rabbis Klaven and Silverstone.
This was the situation that Rabbi Dubrow encountered when he was entrusted with leading Congregation Kesher Israel in 1925. A new immigrant himself, in a land foreign to him both physically and spiritually, he was faced with the task of preserving Jewish life for the older generation, and of reaching out to the younger members who were growing up in America, far from the European traditions and values that were so much a part of his life.
Rabbi Dubrow rose to the challenge. He devoted himself wholeheartedly to educating his community and raising the observance level throughout the city. Rabbi Dubrow was well-liked by his congregants. One member, Joseph Mendelsohn, remembers that when he was discharged from the army because of ulcers, he met Rabbi Dubrow on the bus. Rabbi Dubrow got up and said, “Take my seat. I know why you were discharged from the army.” “He was a saintly person,” says Mr. Mendelsohn.
Rabbi Dubrow did not limit his work to his own synagogue. He joined the Agudat Hakehilot of Washington, D.C., and participated in many community undertakings.
Rabbi Shmaryahu Shulman, who was a student at the Ner Yisroel Yeshivah in Baltimore at the time, recalls a prayer gathering that took place in one of the largest synagogues in Washington when the news of the atrocities in Europe reached the community. Rabbi Dubrow was honored with the recitation of Psalms. Seventy years later, Rabbi Shulman still vividly remembers the sweetness of Rabbi Dubrow’s voice as he completed Psalm 22 with great feeling.
Rabbi Dubrow participated in the efforts to save European Jewry. He was a member of a group of rabbis who met with President Roosevelt, as well as with senators in Washington, to arrange for a special exception in the immigrations laws that would allow the Previous Rebbe to come to America.
After the Previous Rebbe arrived in America, Rabbi Dubrow helped raise money to support his activities. He would travel to New York often to visit the rebbe and bring the money he had collected. At the same time, he would also visit his married daughters in New York. One of Rabbi Dubrow’s grandchildren recalls that Rabbi Dubrow would test him on his studies and give him money as a reward if he did well.
Perhaps Rabbi Dubrow derived his strength from his relationship with the Previous Rebbe, who encouraged him to strengthen the observance level in his community and provided specific advice on how to transmit the timeless messages of the Torah to the younger generation. It was the rebbe who had issued a call to action regarding the observance of the laws of family purity among young married women. Rabbi Dubrow responded to the call, and then reported in a letter to the rebbe that he had formed a committee of women dedicated to the mitzvah of family purity and had instituted lecture series on these laws. The rebbe responded with advice and encouragement. Some time later, another letter to the rebbe reported the completion of the new mikvah (ritual bath) in Washington. A community-wide celebration held in honor of the new mikvah was reported in the Washington Post.
Mrs. Dubrow and her six daughters.
Another letter of encouragement, sent on Chanukah of 1942, was written by Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the son-in-law of the Previous Rebbe, who later became the seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe. In the letter, the Rebbe discussed the law that when lighting the Chanukah menorah, its light should be seen from outside, and that even those who live high up in an apartment building are obligated to place their menorahs where they would be visible. The Rebbe interpreted this law metaphorically, saying that even those select individuals who lead highly spiritual lives, who are located high above the material world, have an obligation to reach out to those below them and share their light with them. While these words were meant as encouragement for Rabbi Dubrow to continue reaching out to Jews in his community, they also indicate how highly the Rebbe thought of Rabbi Dubrow.
Rabbi Dubrow also received specific instructions and requests from the Chabad headquarters in New York. In 1942 Rabbi Menachem Mendel wrote to Rabbi Dubrow asking him to reach out to a Jewish soldier who was working in Washington,“to influence him . . . to put on tefillin and to eat kosher, even at work.” Rabbi Menachem Mendel further encouraged Rabbi Dubrow to reach out to other Jews “whose hearts are touched by fear of G‑d”and to arrange kosher food for other Jewish soldiers in Washington.
Rabbi Dubrow also established Jewish burial practices in his community,and the chevra kadishah (burial society) of Kesher Israel was formed under his leadership. The synagogue also purchased a plot of land to use as a cemetery. Any synagogue member could be buried there free of charge.
Rabbi Dubrow’s chief concern was the education of the children in his community. Together with the synagogue board members, he formed a Talmud Torah, a Hebrew school that met daily after public school hours. Boys and girls studied together, usually until the age of bar mitzvah, after which their parents often needed them to help out in the shops.
The synagogue hired a talented teacher, Rabbi Oscar Summer, who taught at the Talmud Torah for over 10 years. According to an article written in a local Jewish newspaper after Rabbi Summer’s passing in 1945, “the Kesher Israel Talmud Torah of Georgetown became a model school. [Rabbi Summer] had a unique way with children. His pupils always stood in awe and love for him. They will ever remember him with reverence and gratitude.”
Even though the Talmud Torah was very successful, Rabbi Dubrow felt that it wasn’t enough, as it was able to provide only a very limited Jewish education. His dream was to open a Jewish day school in Washington so that Jewish children born in America could learn Torah just as their parents did back in Europe.
It was a lofty vision, but difficult to achieve. Many Jewish parents opposed the idea of a Jewish day school. They feared that separating their children from the public school students would hinder their ability to fully participate in American society. Rabbi Dubrow joined forces with other local rabbis, including Rabbi Yehoshua Klavan, Rabbi Jeremiah Weitz and Rabbi Moshe Chaim Levinson, and together they were able to address the parents’ concerns and raise funds for the school.
In his final letter to the Previous Rebbe, written in 1944, shortly before his passing, Rabbi Dubrow joyously informed the rebbe that his dream had finally come true, as the first Jewish day school had opened its doors in Washington, D.C. He described the spacious building the community had purchased for the school and mentioned the school bus that was bought to transport the students to and from school. The school day ended at three o’clock, and a Talmud Torah for older children who attended public school took place in the school building at four o’clock. The older children learned Chumash (Bible) with Rashi’s commentary and Gemara. In its first year, the school had 24 full-time students and 10 Talmud Torah students. The school grew rapidly after Rabbi Dubrow’s passing and later became the Melvin J. Berman Hebrew Academy, which is still in existence today.
Rabbi Dubrow’s delight at the school’s opening is evident from his letter to the Previous Rebbe. He wrote, “We teach them from a young age the way of the Torah and the tradition . . . And at twelve o’clock, when they eat lunch . . . we teach them to bless before they eat and bless the Birkat Hamazon after they eat . . . This is my portion from all my toil, because this is my life’s purpose: to spread Torah to young and old, and to do tzedakah[charity]and chesed [kindness], and to help those who seek help.” Rabbi Dubrow expressed his gratitude to G‑d for helping him actualize his dream and concluded the letter with a request for the rebbe to pray for him, perhaps knowing that his life was coming to an end.
In the above letter, Rabbi Dubrow summarized his life and his goals in a nutshell. He made a similar statement in a letter to his newly married daughter, Rivka, where he wrote, “Everything here is as before. I go on with my holy work day to day, learning G‑d’s Torah with the Jewish nation, and giving tzedakah to the poor. May G‑d allow me to continue for many more years.”
All his life, Rabbi Dubrow strove to serve G‑d and to disseminate Torah wherever he found himself, whether among advanced students as a rosh hayeshivah, among the members of his community, or among young children in a land where mitzvah observance was neglected. Despite the striking differences between the level of education and observance he was accustomed to in Europe and what he found on American shores, he did not complain or bemoan his fate or that of American Jewry. Instead, he devoted himself wholeheartedly to his work and rejoiced greatly at every step taken towards greater observance.
Rabbi Yaakov Aizer Dubrow’s tombstone.
Even personal tragedies did not hinder Rabbi Dubrow’s holy work. His wife, Rebbetzin Chana Leah, passed away from tuberculosis in her early forties, leaving him with several young children. Rabbi Dubrow carried on and eventually remarried. One of his married daughters also succumbed to tuberculosis. Rabbi Dubrow’s only son, Eliezer, who had saved the whole family during a pogrom, was drafted into the Russian army and had to remain in Europe. During World War II, Rabbi Dubrow lost contact with him. Eliezer was killed towards the end of the war. The fate of Eliezer’s wife and child is not known. Despite these tragedies, Rabbi Dubrow continued teaching and leading his community with true dedication.
When Rabbi Dubrow passed away in 1944 at the age of 63, the community gathered for his funeral, and parts of Pennsylvania Ave. were closed off to accommodate the crowd.
Even after his death, Rabbi Dubrow’s kindness continued. In his will, he requested that the extensive collection of books that he owned be sold at an auction and the money used for a fund for the poor of the land of Israel.
Rabbi Shmaryahu Shulman purchased some of Rabbi Dubrow’s sefarim at the auction, and when he found Rabbi Dubrow’s Torah insights in the glosses, he had them published.
Some of Rabbi Dubrow’s descendants continue his holy work, serving as rabbis and teachers. Rabbi Dubrow’s grandson, Rabbi Elyakim Getzel Rosenblatt, heads Yeshivah Kesser Torah in Queens, NY, which serves the community with many daily minyanim (prayer quorums) and Jewish outreach activities. Some of Rabbi Dubrow’s great-grandchildren are also involved in Jewish education.
Rabbi Dubrow’s descendants also continue to disseminate Torah by sponsoring the printing of Jewish books. They sponsored the printing of the sixth volume of the Rebbe Rashab’s letters, as well as Torat Shalom, the halachic (legal) responsa of the Rebbe Rashab.
Rabbi Dubrow’s descendants are always looking for more information about their illustrious ancestor. If any readers knew Rabbi Dubrow or have any of his books or writings in their possession, the family would very much appreciate being contacted at JR@jrcap.com.
Rabbi Dubrow’s seventieth yahrzeit was on the 1st of Kislev of 5775. May his memory be a blessing.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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PARENTING
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What to Do When Your Child Is in Trouble
By Sarah Chana Radcliffe
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Your doorbell rings. You open it to find a large man wearing a police officer’s uniform standing on your doorstep. Why is he there? “Ma’am, we have a search warrant. We suspect that there are drugs on the premises.” What?? What is the police officer saying? Why is he, along with several others who have suddenly appeared, pushing his way into your home? What is going on?
Over the next hours and days you learn that your son, your precious 15-year-old baby, has been selling drugs. After throwing blankets, pillows, clothes and belongings all over his bedroom, the officers found the small stash they were looking for. Where you live, selling drugs is illegal, and the officers have handcuffed and arrested your child. You post bail and bring him home to await judgment.
Shock and Betrayal
At first, you and your spouse are shocked, scared and confused. But as the dust settles and you learn more details, your feelings turn to upset, rage and fury. How could your child do something so stupid and so wrong? What did you ever do to deserve this? What will everyone say? What will this cost the family financially and socially? How will this affect the future of this child and the others in the family? How dare he bring all this upon all of you! How could he?
It will take a while before you’re able to think of the youngster himself. What was going on in his mind? Did he choose this activity, or was he bullied into it? Is he safe, or did he get involved (maybe accidentally) with a dangerous crowd? Is he scared? Is he remorseful? Is he severely depressed or even suicidal? How can you best help him? What does he need from you now?
Expecting the Unexpected
Kids, and particularly teenagers, get into all sorts of trouble. They shoplift. They crash cars. They ring up cell phone bills into the thousands of dollars. They bully. They molest. They use drugs and, yes, they sell them too. Many times they do things because of their “teenage characteristics”: a sense of invincibility, poor judgment, impulsivity, hormonal madness, immaturity and naivety. Those with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and other mental health conditions are at even greater risk for giving way to impulse rather than considering their behavior carefully. And since it’s not surprising that kids get into trouble, it is imperative that parents know how to help them out of it.
Parenting Under Pressure
Kids may be impulsive, but parents should not be. Parents need to be prepared for those times when their kids will need them most, those times when the child’s world is falling apart. So here are some strategies that can helpyou when you most need to help your child:
- Think about what would help you: Remember that your primary goal is to support your child on his developmental journey. If you had done something incredibly unintelligent/wrong/risky/unfortunate, what kind of support would you wish that your spouse could give you? In your state of fear and remorse, would lectures, recriminations and threats help you cope? Probably not. Settle your own emotional chaos (with professional assistance if necessary) before trying to seriously address your child.
- Do not add unnecessary consequences: Ask yourself, will the natural consequence of this action provide all the necessary education? For instance, is there a financial fine, a prison sentence, community work, a process of judgment or confrontation, a suspension, a failed course or some other consequence that will significantly affect your child and drive the lesson home? If so, do not add anger, rejection and more negative consequences.
- Provide educational consequences: If there is no natural consequence, you may want to design a consequence that will have educational value. For example, you may want the child to get a part-time job to pay off the cell phone bill or the costs of repairing the car after his bout of drunken driving. You may insist that he take further driver education or volunteer in a center treating motor vehicle accident victims—something that will help prevent a recurrence of this behavior. Let the consequence do the teaching and do not add anger or rejection as these emotions detract from whatever lesson you are trying to teach.
- Be compassionate: We are all learning all the time. Teens make lots of mistakes because they are too young to have learned from life’s experiences; they are learning right now. Continuing to love and respect them teaches them that they can continue to love and respect themselves even as they are in a process of self-correction.
- Stay true to who you want to be: Remember that all of life for all of us is a process of growing and gaining wisdom. While our kids are learning how to function responsibly and morally, we are learning how to build and maintain healthy relationships with our loved ones. When they are failing in their tasks, we can still be succeeding in ours! There is no reason to lose the vision of who we are trying to be when we feel alarmed, dismayed, hurt or otherwise emotionally challenged. At all times and under all conditions (not just when things are going well), we are supposed to emulate G‑d—to be loving, forgiving and compassionate, just as He is. Moreover, G‑d reacts to us the way we react to others. Do we take a hard, unforgiving, judgmental line? Then that same line will be applied to us for the errors that we make. Being loving does not mean being weak.
Parents are able to push their children in the right direction without pushing them over the edge. Being prepared helps.
Sarah Chana Radcliffe is the author of The Fear Fix, Make Yourself at Home and Raise Your Kids Without Raising Your Voice. Visit her parenting page or access her teleclasses.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Parenting
Gazing at an Empty Nest
By Miriam Karp
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Just came back from a lovely bat mitzvah. The sweet girl was poised and tender. All of a sudden, from that playful child, glimpses of an emerging young woman could be seen. This milestone seemed to help Sara gain confidence, surrounded by nurturing family, as she prepared for her dive into bigger waters.
But as I watched her loving parents address her, beaming and wiping away tears as they talked, I wondered if the bat mitzvah was maybe even more significant for them—a framed moment in time to take pride, to help formalize the transition, to prepare them for a different relationship with their child/girl/woman.
I watched her loving parents address herI thought back, remembering how each of our bar and bat mitzvah celebrations helped us wrap our minds around that wondrous minefield of emerging adulthood that our children were inching their way into. Already! Stepping gracefully one moment, floundering and storming the next.
Like all teens, our kids were a brew of hormones flowing, driven towards independence. Mom and Dad, we hoary parents, were praying to strike that magical balance between discipline and authority, mentorship and letting them try their wings.
As they got ready to face a confusing world, we were glad for every morsel of morals, values, lessons, inspiration they’d gotten, and wished we’d given them more ultra-super-duper-soul-protecting-and-enhancing vitamins. (Why was I too tired to read another bedtime story of the sages so many nights? Why didn’t we make Shabbat more fun and meaningful?) They’d need every vital drop of Torah infusion we managed to muster up. Though we tried to give fortified doses of Jewish pride, joy, knowledge, we didn’t teach or live insularity. Finding balance between drawing in the good from the world without the garbage, while connecting strongly and vibrantly enough with their roots, was, and is, an ever-challenging tightrope act. And teens will test that tightrope to its limits, hanging over the edge, bouncing till it seems it’s going to fray.
As we settled well into our fifties, we’d ushered most of our kids through the teen years, and were thinking we’d gotten this stage pretty well nailed. But this September, something startling, unreal happened. Another major milestone.
Our very youngest children, our twins, headed off for a boarding high school, where they’d be able to receive a more complete Jewish education.
They flew the coop . . .
Those demanding, precious, wonderful, sometimes incessant and annoying, beautiful young teens—they’re gone.
The last few weeks of August were filled with frantic shopping, packing, filling out forms, as we got the twins ready for school, in New York, some 750 miles away. And then. The day came. Accompanied by their dad, Chana and Fayga left, they were up and off. I drove the three to the Chinese Bus stop—kissed, hugged, teared up—and let them go. Returning, I retraced the highway, my barren car with its empty trunk rattling down the road. With an unreal feeling, I pulled up in the driveway, and let myself into an empty, empty, quiet house. I hung up my keys, threw down my purse. Turned on a few lights. Opened the fridge. Stared inside, wondering, Who will eat the leftovers? What to do now?
I was tempted to turn something on. The electronics—the texts, the gadgets, the computer, that ubiquitous Facebook—stood ready to embrace me, to fill the stillness with chatter, mask the silence, dull the reality.
I kind of wanted to hear the silence, absorb the impact, but with a ding and a text and a zing every few minutes it was hard to even feel the quiet.
As I looked at the walls and wondered what to do next, I suddenly related to my single and older friends more fully. In all the years of busy chaos, I often yearned for this empty space. Now that this vast open plain stretched in front of me, I wondered if that longed-for quiet would really be so golden. It’s solitary.
This year, the same in which I’m sending off the kittens who won’t call Mommy each time they’ve lost their mittens, my biological clock rang with a resounding dong. After several years of inching in that direction, I have become an official wizened crone, crossing the threshold of menopause. The external loss of kids underfoot echoes the biological finality.
I’m liberated from, and I sorely miss, their debris, their drop-offs and pick-ups, their demands. I wandered back into Chana and Fayga’s room to pick up the remnants of the packing fury, folding a sweater left thrown on the floor, gathering up a few stray Walmart and Target tags, longingly prolonging their presence in the house.
I felt unanchored, floating, without the routine, the safe, the known.
“Bedtime, honey. Nine-fifteen, tomorrow’s school. Lay out your clothes.”
For so many years, I’d been repeatedly pulled back, often begrudgingly, from the edge, from new horizons, unknown vistas, to a sweet world of daily routine, responsibility, laundry to fold, order so lovingly rhythmic and regular.
They’re gone. They’ve separated.But when they stretch those lovely, fragile, barely hatched wings of confident immortality and fly, flapping tentatively, gaining strength—then no one needs the day-to-day, nagging, annoying, clinging Mommy.
No suckling babes, downy heads melting into my shoulder. No separation anxiety. They’re gone. They’ve separated. Out there, released, flying, falling, creating their lives.
We talk, we bond, but—I don’t know all those mommy details, what they ate, wore, did every day.
I ran alongside your wobbly bike, cheering, stabilizing, catching the falls. Then, suddenly—you’re off, careening down the block, pedaling away . . .
And quiet days of empty, lonely—wondrous possibility—are waiting.
If I can get on my bike too.
Miriam Karp is an award-winning writer, artist, Judaic studies teacher and lecturer. Her paintings explore intimate moments in Jewish life. Her first book, Painting Zaidy’s Dream: A Memoir of a Searching Soul, shares her story of search. Miriam lives in Cincinnati with her husband and family. Visit her website here.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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LIFESTYLE
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Cooking: Perfect Spinach Lasagna
By Miriam Szokovski
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Lasagna may very possibly be the ultimate comfort food. Cheesy...saucy...carby...it doesn't get much better than that!
Lots of people precook the noodles, but it's unnecessary. I use them raw by simply adding a little water, covering the pan tightly with foil and baking for a slightly longer amount of time.
Begin by lightly sautéing the spinach with the garlic, until just wilted. Mix the spinach with the ricotta, egg and spices. Set the mixture aside and get ready to assemble the lasagna.
Place 3 lasagna noodles on the bottom of the pan, and cover with ½ cup marinara sauce.
Spoon approximately 1/3 of the ricotta mixture over the sauce, and sprinkle ½ cup of shredded cheese over that.
Repeat the noodles, marinara, ricotta, shredded cheese pattern for the next two layers.
For the final layer, spread 3 noodles across the top. Cover with the last ½ cup of sauce and shredded cheese.
Pour the ½ cup of water around the edges of the lasagna. Cover the pan tightly with foil and bake covered on 400 for 1 hour. Uncover and bake another 15 minutes. Let the lasagna rest for 10-15 minutes. Cut and serve.
Ingredients
- 5 oz. raw spinach
- 2 cloves garlic, crushed
- 1 lb. ricotta cheese
- ½ tsp. basil
- ½ tsp. oregano
- 1 tsp. salt
- 1 egg
- 2 cups marinara sauce
- 2 cups shredded cheese
- 12 raw lasagna noodles
- ½ cup water
Directions
- Lightly sauté the spinach with crushed garlic until spinach is just wilted.
- Mix the ricotta cheese with the egg, salt, oregano, basil and wilted spinach.
- Place 3 lasagna noodles on the bottom of the pan. Cover with ½ cup marinara sauce. Spoon 1/3 of the ricotta mixture over the sauce. Sprinkle ½ cup shredded cheese over the ricotta.
- Repeat the noodles, marinara, ricotta, shredded cheese pattern for the next two layers.
- For the final layer, spread 3 noodles across the top. Cover with the last ½ cup of sauce and shredded cheese.
- Pour the ½ cup of water around the edges of the lasagna. Cover the pan tightly with foil and bake covered on 400°F for 1 hour. Uncover and bake another 15 minutes. Let the lasagna rest for 10-15 minutes. Cut and serve.
Leftovers keep well in the fridge for a couple of days, and can be reheated on low in the oven or in a frying pan over a low flame on the stovetop. To prepare in advance, assemble the lasagna, minus the water, and freeze. Before baking, simply pour in the water and increase the baking time by 30-40 minutes.
What's your ultimate comfort food?
Miriam Szokovski is the author of historical novel Exiled Down Under, and a member of the Chabad.org editorial team. She enjoys tinkering with recipes, and teaches cooking classes to young children. Miriam shares her love of cooking, baking and food photography on Chabad.org’s food blog, Cook It Kosher and in the N'shei Chabad Newsletter.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Lifestyle
Photo of the Week: Painting the World
Photo by Oneinfocus
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 The Torah teaches that we are day workers.
Day means light.
Our work is to paint the world with the light of Torah
by strengthening ourselves and inspiring others.
Michoel is an innovative educator, outdoor enthusiast and avid photographer. Michoel grew up in Australia where he used the 'Outback' to refine his photography skills. He pursued studies at Mayanot in Israel, the Rabbinical College of America in New Jersey and Rabbinical studies at Kollel Menachem in Brooklyn NY. He lives in Brooklyn with his wife, Sarah, and daughter. Read more about his organization at Oneinfocus.org.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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JEWISH NEWS
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Rabbi Mordechai S. Ashkenazi, 71, Chief Rabbi of Kfar Chabad
By Menachem Posner
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| Rabbi Mordechai Ashkenazi, right, with Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (Photo: Meir Dahan) |
Rabbi Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi—the longtime rabbi of Kfar Chabad, Israel, author of scholarly works on Jewish law, and a leading rabbinic figure in Israel and beyond—passed away today in Israel. He was 71 years old.
He was born to Rabbi Moshe and Devorah Ashkenazi in 1943 in Tel Aviv, where his maternal grandfather, Rabbi Eliezer Karasik, was rabbi of the Chabad-Lubavitch community. His paternal grandfather, Rabbi Meir Ashkenazi, was the famed rabbi of Shanghai, China, who was instrumental in saving many Jewish refugees who fled there during the Holocaust.
As a student at Chabad yeshivahs in Tel Aviv, Lod, and later, in Brooklyn, N.Y., and Montreal, Canada, the young scholar was widely admired for both his devotion to Torah study and his phenomenal memory.
Before he turned 15, he entered the study of the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—for a private meeting known as yechidus. To his shock, the Rebbe rose slightly and greeted him as “Rabbi Ashkenazi.”
The Rebbe went on to quiz him in the chapters of Talmud and Tanya that he was then learning, displaying a deep interest in his scholastic achievments. In the same meeting, the Rebbe advised him not to attend summer camp, since his mission was to learn Torah assiduously.
As a yeshivah student, Ashkenazi went on to have many meetings with the Rebbe, in which the Rebbe’s concern covered many areas, including providing tips to improving the memory.
Ashkenazi received his rabbinical ordination from Kfar Chabad’s first rabbi, Rabbi Schneur Zalman Gorelik, and taught in the Chabad Yeshivah in Kfar Chabad.
Rabbi Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi around the time of his first meeting with the Rebbe.
At the Rebbe’s behest, he began to collect and arrange sources to the rulings found in the “Shluchan Aruch” (Code of Jewish Law) of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi. In 1972, he completed the first volume and sent a copy to the Rebbe. The Rebbe noted the accomplishment at a sudden celebratory farbrengen on 24 Tevet of that year.
The Rebbe congratulated him privately on the accomplishment, telling him that it led to greater interest in learning the code and gave him advice on how to continue.
When the young rabbi showed his work to the venerable Rabbi S. Y. Zevin, the older man—who spearheaded the Encyclopedia Talmudit project—was so impressed that he gave the young man rabbinic ordination on the spot.
In 1974, following Rabbi Gorelik’s untimely death, Rabbi Ashkenazi was appointed rabbi of the village. He was all of 31 at the time.
Expert on Jewish Law
As rabbi of Kfar Chabad, one of his early innovations was to use stainless-steel surfaces for the matzah-baking—something that was viewed with suspicion by many traditionalists. The Rebbe—referring to himself as “a small chemist”—supported his decision, saying it did not pose a risk of making the matzahs leaven.
Ashkenazi’s most significant contribution to Torah scholarship was possibly his multi-volume definitive edition of Hilchot Talmud Torah (“Laws of Torah Study”) by Rabbi Schneur Zalman, to which he added copious footnotes and explanations.
In subsequent years, he wrote extensively on other matters of Jewish law and practice, giving special attention to Chabad customs.
An expert in many areas of Jewish law, he enjoyed a close relationship with many of Israel’s leading rabbis, notably the former chief rabbis—Rabbi Ovadia Yosef, Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu and Rabbi Shlomo Amar, among others. Although he was the rabbi of a relatively small village, he was a respected member of many rabbinic boards in Israel and abroad.
At the Rebbe’s behest, he would consult with Rabbi Moshe Feinstein on matters of Jewish law.
Ashkenazi traveled widely to confer ordination on hundreds of aspiring Chabad rabbis all over the world, helping to raise a generation of learned and qualified rabbinic leaders.
Rabbi Ashkenazi left Kfar Chabad this morning at 11 a.m. to travel to Tiberias in order to visit the gravesite of his father on his yahrzeit (anniversary of passing). He soon complained of severe chest pains and collapsed. He was immediately rushed to Tel Hashomer Hospital in Ramat Gan, where after many resuscitation efforts, he passed away—one day shy of the 40th-year anniversary of the day he was appointed rabbi of Kfar Chabad.
In the hours since his passing, condolences have begun to pour in. “With his special personality, Rabbi Ashkenazi radiated brightly the pleasantness of Torah Judaism and Chassidism,” wrote Reuven Rivlin, president of Israel, “in his activities as a member of the Chabad Rabbinical Court, in his daily actions and his leadership of his flock. His presence will be very sorely missed.”
He is survived by his wife, Sima (Wolpe), and their children: Gitah Brod; Rivkah Kaplan (Sitriyah, Israel); Rabbi Meir Ashkenazi (Safed, Israel); Rabbi Chaim Eliezer Ashkenazi (Montreal); Rabbi Zelig Ashkenazi (Yekaterinburg, Russia); Mrs. Chaya Feigel Wilhelm (Detroit); Rabbi Menachem Mendel Ashkenazi (Israel); Rabbi Schneur Zalman Ashkenazi (Rishon Lezion, Israel); Sholem Ber Ashkenazi; Rabbi Yosef Ashkenazi; Rabbi Yisroel Ashkenazi; and Rabbi Yehuda Ashkenazi.
His surviving siblings are Mrs. Malka Wilshansky (Safed, Israel) and Mrs. Esther Twersky (Brooklyn, N.Y.).
The levaya is scheduled for 10 a.m. on Thursday in Kfar Chabad. Internment will take place in Tiberias, alongside his parents and siblings.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Jewish News
First Digital-Media Birthright Trip Offers Unique Benefit
By Ben Tepfer
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| More than 40 young Jewish professionals participated in the first-ever digital media-focused Taglit-Birthright Israel: Mayanot trip in December, including Ben Tepfer, center in the gray T-shirt, who sums up his thoughts on the experience. The group was accompanied by Rabbi Mordechai Lightstone, social-media editor of Chabad.org, right behind Tepfer. |
We are somewhere in the Negev Desert. It is the evening of Dec. 30, and 2015 is barely more than 24 hours away. Below us is the sand and rock you would expect in a desert. Above us is nothing but stars. The only light is that of the moon—and the manufactured green light of the Bedouin camp nearby. This is Taglit-Birthright Israel: Mayanot, where Jewish young people from around the world come to discover Israel, Judaism, and ideally, themselves.
I recently participated in a unique version of such a trip. Titled #DigitalIsrael (yes, the hashtag is part of the name), the trip hit upon all of the key Birthright activities (visiting Jerusalem’s Old City, climbing Masada, riding camels, etc.), but was overlaid with the theme of technology in Israel.
We went to the Jezreel Valley Winery in Hanaton, where co-founder and chairman Jacob Ner-David—a self-described “serial entrepreneur in technology-based startups” and CEO of the messaging app “Zula”—spoke about how tradition and innovation coincide in their wine-making (for the record, all trip participants were over age 21).
In Tel Aviv, we met Ben Lang, who has founded several Israeli-based startup companies, such as Mapped in Israel, which is an interactive map of startups in Israel. We met with other tech leaders on our trip, but what stands out to me is that both Ner-David and Lang—and their work—are not only Israeli-based, but serve to help the growth of technology within Israel.
We heard from many others as well, including Avi Mayer, spokesman to international media for the Jewish Agency; Sarah Tuttle-Singer, new-media editor at The Times of Israel; Barak Raz, a former spokesman for the Israel Defense Forces and currently corporate chief of staff of an Israel-based international holding group; and Laura Ben-David, a marketing consultant, blogger and social-media activist.
At the Jezreel Valley Winery, the group met co-founder and chairman Jacob Ner-David, who explained how tradition and innovation coincide in wine-making. (Photo: Ben Tepfer)
But all of this was the explicit agenda of #DigitalIsrael. Like many of my peers (now friends) on the trip, I work in technology. As a product marketing manager at Adobe, I live and breathe technology and innovation, always thinking about what’s next. Like so many people today, work never really stops because I always have my phone with me. We are a perpetually connected generation. For us, to be connected to each other is to be connected to ourselves; connectivity is part of who we are. Our identity as individuals has become inherently enriched by our interactions with others.
As a perpetrator of over-connectivity, I am the first to admit that this can be a problem. And so, on the first Shabbat of the trip, our tech-savvy rabbinical leader Rabbi Mordechai Lightstone (social-media editor of Chabad.org) challenged us to disconnect; to leave behind our phones and cameras, and for 24 hours just be here in Israel. Be really present. No swiping down to see if you had any new “Likes.” No swiping right to see if you have a new match. For many of us (myself included), that wasn’t an easy request. Our reliance on technology means that we can be anywhere except where we are right now. The second Shabbat we spent at the Western Wall (again, of course, unplugged).
And thus, a fascinating dichotomy emerges for the organizers of Birthright: How to connect visiting Jewish youth to Israel without stripping them of their connectivity to the rest of the world? I’d like to share two examples of this dichotomy that resonated with me on the trip.
Camel-riding in southern Israel, part of nearly every Birthright trip. (Photo: Ben Tepfer)
Wi-Fi on the bus. It’s not great, and it doesn’t always work, but it’s there. Like water while hiking up Masada, Wi-Fi has become a necessity. While we were taking selfies on our phones and cameras during activities, the first thing we did when we got back on the bus was to upload them to Instagram. In fact, Birthright encourages this sharing through hashtags listed on a poster in the front of the bus. But shouldn’t we be more focused on connecting to Israel than our followers? Yes and no. As I mentioned, being virtually connected is part of our identity; without it, we aren’t ourselves. That’s the reason that at every hotel we went to, the first question was (you guessed it): “Is there Wi-Fi here?” Don’t get me wrong, it’s not necessarily a bad thing; it’s just a challenge we need to acknowledge and face on an ongoing basis.
Power outlets at the Bedouin camp. Aren’t we supposed to be in the desert? If the goal of this particular experience is to live like the Bedouins (at least, for a night), then why a power strip in the tent? Let’s face it. This wasn’t really a camp, but a tourist attraction. Which again, when you call it for what it is, it’s fine. Here we are, in the desert, and we can still connect. Electricity isn’t Wi-Fi, but it’s power nonetheless.
‘From Darkness Comes Light’
On the last night of the trip, we all shared some of our favorite moments. For many of us, it was the same. Let’s go back there now:
Tepfer speaks of the sand and rock in the desert, and the lack of Wi-Fi, though other connections are made. (Photo: Ben Tepfer)
We are somewhere in the Negev Desert. It is the evening of Dec. 30, and 2015 is barely more than 24 hours away. Below us is the sand and rock you would expect in a desert. Above us is nothing but stars. There is silence. I challenge you to think, when was the last time you truly experienced real silence? Not the hum of the heater or the sounds of urban life known as “white noise.” I’m talking about the kind of silence that is almost haunting. This is the sound of the desert. That night, under the stars, that was when I really felt connected to Israel and to myself.
There is a saying that “from darkness comes light.” Though a phrase generally used to symbolize hope out of pain, it’s one that hit a much more explicit chord for me here in the desert. It’s a beautiful thing, when you think about it. Nearly 50 of us are on a trip called #DigitalIsrael, and one of the most important moments is when we are not connected—at least, in the sense of technology.
For me, that was my connection to Israel, to my heritage, to my identity as a Jew and to myself. During this exercise, we were asked to sit in a circle and then turn around so all we could see were miles of moonlit desert. It was that moment that made me feel the closest to my new friends around me. Under the stars. Wrapped in the dark. In utter silence.
Miles of moonlight in the Negev, along with its absolute darkness and silence, wind up having a profound effect on the techies, who for some of the trip really do unplug. (Photo: Ben Tepfer)
Ben Tepfer of Boston, a product marketing manager at Adobe, participated with more than 40 young Jewish professionals and staff, including Chabad Rabbi Mordechai Lightstone, on the first-ever digital media-focusedTaglit-Birthright Israel trip.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Jewish News
Rabbi Meir Roness, 74, Quietly Introduced Chassidic Teachings to Thousands
By Eli Rubin and Menachem Posner
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| Rabbi Meir Roness, center, receives a dollar from the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory. |
Rabbi Meir Roness—a longtime resident of the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., who dedicated his life to the dissemination of Chassidic teachings—passed away on Jan. 13, just one day after celebrating his 74th birthday.
Born in 1941 to Rabbi Avraham and Gittel Roness in Montreal, where his father was a respected educator, young Meir continued his studies at the Central Chabad Yeshivah at 770 Eastern Parkway, the world headquarters of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement in Crown Heights.
In the 1950s and early `60s, he served as rotating substitute counselor at Camp Gan Israel in the Catskill Mountains. Campers still remember how he would lead them in song before playing sports and bring Chassidic joy to every activity.
As the children grew into young men, many of them wanted to have classes in Chabad chassidus in the yeshivahs were they studied. Working with Rabbi Dovid Raskin, chairman of the Lubavitch Youth Organization, Roness threw himself into organizing and sustaining classes throughout the tri-state area.
The efforts were a direct response to the pioneering call of the Lubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—to advance the welfare of Jews everywhere, not only physically but spiritually.
Roness and his fellow yeshivah students took the Rebbe’s message seriously, traveling near and far to give classes and talks, and to organize study groups. While many of his friends joined in the effort, it would be hard to find someone who surpassed the good-heartedness and single-mindedness with which Roness dedicated himself to his mission.
Late one night, for example, he was desperately looking for a ride from the Catskills to Brooklyn, where he needed to be to arrange classes. The person who took him mentioned it to the Rebbe. The Rebbe replied, “praiseworthy is his lot, and great is his merit.”
In 1967, he married Sara Beigel. The couple made their home in Crown Heights.
Rabbi Meir Roness surrounded by his wife and children in the early 1990s.
At one point, there was talk about Roness moving out to serve as a Chabad emissary, but the Rebbe insisted that he remain in Brooklyn, where he was accomplishing great things.
“He was persistent,” recalls Rabbi Avrohom Bluming of Brooklyn, who would often receive calls from Roness at the payphones, camps and yeshivahs he attended, encouraging him to start Tanya classes. “There are thousands of people who’ve learned chassidus thanks to him. Everything was done with simplicity and joy. You just couldn’t say no to him.”
Bluming says his uncle became a Chabad chassid because of an actual class Roness arranged, and that both he and his brother were active in giving classes at his behest. Each one required substantial arranging by Roness, involving recruiting students, a presenter and sometimes a driver, as well as raising money for car fare.
Youthfully Exuberant
More than 50 years later, he continued his efforts uninterrupted. Though he aged physically, his spirit remained youthfully exuberant, and he continued to work diligently on behalf of Lubavitch Youth Organization. Roness considered his work to be a privilege, and he made it his mission to share that privilege with others, inviting everyone he encountered to make a small donation towards Lubavitch Youth Organization’s ongoing programs.
With a wad of bills in his hand and a pocket full of change, he could be seen making his rounds in the Crown Heights neighborhood, approaching one person after another with warm greetings and an uplifting word. In the mornings, he circulated in the synagogues; in the evenings, he made a brief stop at every engagement and wedding celebration in town, energetically congratulating the celebrants and encouraging their generosity.
Roness often invoked the Baal Shem Tov’s teaching that “disseminating the wellsprings” of Chassidic teachings would lead to the ultimate redemption.
Within the Crown Heights community, he was a familiar and beloved presence. An individual of unsurpassed warmth, sincerity and devotion, everyone knew that it was Roness who was being generous; he was not there to seek aid, but to enable an individual to participate in a greater good.
In his quiet and humble way—and over the course of more than half a century—Roness helped introduce Chassidic teachings to tens of thousands of individuals.
“Like everyone else, I was surprised to learn that Reb Meir was 74,” says Bluming. “He was the kind of person who was friendly with everyone, no matter their age. That was a big part of his success. He viewed every person as a friend—and a potential teacher or student of chassidus.”
Rabbi Meir Roness was predeceased by his first wife, Sara, in 1995. He is survived by his wife, Devorah, and by his children: Chanie Abramowitz (New Haven, Conn.); Dini Gottlieb (Toronto); Dvorie Botnick (Brooklyn, N.Y.); Mushky Roness (Brooklyn, N.Y.); Yossi Roness; Shumi Roness; Zevi Roness (Brooklyn, N.Y.); and Mendy Roness (Brooklyn, N.Y.).
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Jewish News
Refugees Themselves, East Ukraine Chabad Emissaries Strive On
By Dovid Margolin
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| Rabbi Sholom Gopin, standing in center, chief rabbi and Chabad emissary of Lugansk, Ukraine, spends time in Ashdod, Israel, during Chanukah with former members of his community who left because of the war back home. |
The second of two articles on Jewish life in war-torn eastern Ukraine.
The fighting was heavy when Maya and her family fled this summer from Lugansk, Ukraine. When she recently returned after three months in Moscow, her pantry was empty. Hungry neighbors had raided her home, taking any food products they could get their hands on. Canned goods, preserves, tea; all of it was gone. Nothing was spared, not even a few bunches of dill she had been drying to use for seasoning.
“The only thing left in her kitchen were two forks,” recalls Svetlana, a friend of Maya’s who works for the Lugansk Jewish community, and asked that she be identified by a pseudonym due to the volatile situation. “There isn’t marauding yet; they left her other valuables, but what happened to her is not uncommon.”
While intense fighting has continued unabated in the vicinity of Donetsk—sometimes spilling into the city itself—Lugansk has remained relatively quiet. The sounds of war can be heard in the distance, but the city itself has been untouched for months. Still, as it has become increasingly isolated from the rest of Ukraine, daily life has become more difficult.
“Right now, there are no trains going into the city,” continues Svetlana, who, in her communal position remains in regular contact with Rabbi Sholom Gopin, the city’s exiled rabbi and Chabad emissary. “They say they might restart them soon, but for now, you have to go to a nearby town and then take a bus in. We’ll see if that changes. All we’ve been hearing and seeing is less and less connection with Ukraine.”
Like other Jewish communities in Ukraine, Lugansk and its residents has been thrown a lifeline by the crucial support of the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, headed by Rabbi Yechiel Eckstein. From funding Chabad-run refugee camps during the most intense months of war to sending thousands of care packages throughout the battered Donbass region, the International Fellowship has by all accounts been a vital agent of help for the Jews of Ukraine. Likewise, the continued support of Ohr Avner and the Rohr Family Foundation has been essential to the survival of these communities.
Luganskers now living in Israel celebrate Chanukah there this year.
As food and produce becomes scarcer, the regular care packages the organization has supplied—among other forms of assistance—through the local Chabad synagogues and centers have become crucial.
“Just a few months ago, it took us around two-and-a-half hours to get the packages from Severodonetsk [a city in Lugansk region under Ukrainian control] to Lugansk. Now it can take six or seven hours, going around the dangerous areas and driving through all the checkpoints,” explains Svetlana, adding that the aid is only let through with the help of a Ukrainian humanitarian nongovernmental organization. “There is heavy fighting around Stanytsia Luganska, which until recently was a big source of fresh vegetables for Lugansk; there was a milk-products factory there, too. Because of the fighting and the weather, produce from there hasn’t come into the city in weeks.”
The war has taken a heavy toll on the morale of the city’s population at large, including its Jewish community. Nevertheless, this year Jewish men, women and children gathered once again in their unheated synagogue to celebrate Chanukah, lighting a large menorah inside and on the building’s front steps, and receiving envelopes of financial aid packaged as traditional Chanukahgelt.
The warmth and joy that filled Lugansk’s synagogue—drawn from the candles and frequently refilled shots of vodka—was a fitting reminder of Chanukah’s message: the victory of light over darkness.
Eastern Ukraine (Map: Google maps)
‘We All Miss Home’
Far away in Israel, when in past years he would have been lighting the menorah in Lugansk’s city center, Gopin and his wife, Chana, were celebrating with dozens of their closest community members in Ashdod.
Like the rest of his fellow emissaries in the Donbass, Gopin was forced to flee his home and community during the intense summer of fighting in Ukraine. With his family now temporarily living in Kfar Chabad, Israel, Gopin makes the three-and-half-hour flight back and forth to Ukraine often, visiting community members and ensuring that help gets through to those still in Lugansk.
As weeks of conflict have turned into months, Gopin has watched as some of the most vibrant members of his community have disembarked in Israel, knowing that each arrival, while positive for the family, is a blow to Lugansk’s close-knit Jewish community.
“Of course, I’m happy for them that they left; this is good for them and their families,” shares Gopin. “But for our community, this is still a very big hit. People are leaving who never planned on it. Many of them were the backbone of our community.”
After a night of catching up, dreidel-playing and menorah-lighting in Ashdod, the Gopin family—the couple has seven children—flew to Ukraine to spend Shabbat together with displaced Lugansk Jews, joining Donetsk’s Shabbaton in Kiev.
Gopin and his family, who for the time being have moved to Kfar Chabad, Israel, shuttle back and forth to meet the needs of those in Lugansk. Here, they get together with fellow Ukrainians in Jerusalem over the holiday.
The Gopin family returned to Jerusalem for the last day of Chanukah, where the rabbi and his wife arranged another program for Lugansk’s Jews living near the capital. That night in Jerusalem, 35 recently transplanted Luganskers prayed together at the Western Wall, toured the tunnels that run alongside the wall underneath adjacent Arab homes and then sat down for a festive meal.
Unable to return home to Lugansk, the Gopins continue to work. Fifteen years ago, Chana Gopin founded The World of the Jewish Woman, a monthly Russian-language magazine. Throughout the ongoing situation in Ukraine and in whichever city she has found herself, she has continued to edit the magazine, ensuring every issue is published.
“It’s not easy,” says Gopin. “Our house, our car, everything we have … it’s all in Lugansk. Our children are in school in Kfar Chabad—and it’s a good school—but we all miss home. In the last five months, we’ve lived in 10 apartments. We desperately want to return to Lugansk in the next few months. Will that happen? I really don’t know.”
This young man, a refugee from Lugansk, moved to Boryspil, near Kiev and the Boryspil International Airport. The community has been scattered in different parts of Ukraine and beyond.
New Lifestyle Exceedingly Challenging
In the world of Chabad, shlichus is considered a permanent posting. Young couples wave goodbye to their families and set out on their assignments, filled with enthusiasm and a sense of mission. They build and work, buy homes, found schools, dig mikvahs and open synagogues. However difficult the years ahead may be, the vast majority remain for life, sure in their convictions that they have a job to accomplish in their chosen communities.
It was no different for the emissaries who settled in eastern Ukraine, and who, aside from the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee’s local Chesed social-services branches, together made up the sole infrastructure of Jewish life in that part of the country. Although the emissaries and their families have received personal aid from Ohr Avner, the Rohr Family Foundation and the International Fellowship, the dramatic change in lifestyle—and the uncertainty that has followed—has been exceedingly challenging.
Until late June of 2014, Rabbi Eliyahu and Hadassa Kramer, and their 12 children, served the Jewish Community in Makeevka, a city of 350,000 people about 15 minutes away from Donetsk. A confluence of family celebrations brought the entire Kramer family to New York in June, but by the time they made plans to return to Makeevka, they were told the situation had become too dangerous.
Donetsk and Makeevka (Maps: Google maps)
“We weren’t even running away when we left,” Kramer says by phone from Jerusalem, where he is now staying with his family, and where his wife gave birth to their 13th child. “I spoke to Rabbi [Pinchas] Vishedski [co-director of Chabad-Lubavitch of Donetsk and the eastern city’s chief rabbi] and to other rabbis, and they told me not to go back.”
While Makeevka itself does not have a very sizeable Jewish community, Kramer also served isolated Jews living in surrounding towns. When he recently called a contact to find out if he should send him a Chanukah menorah and candles, the man declined, telling Kramer that he was afraid to leave his house to pick it up at the post office.
“This has not been easy,” says Kramer. “Traveling from one place to the other … my parents, my in-laws, and now in a small apartment in Jerusalem. You’re not here, and you’re not there. We are all waiting to get back to our shlichus, and we all hope we can do that. It’s been difficult, but G‑d helps us.”
Altogether 17 emissary families have been displaced by the war. They are couples who years ago relocated to faraway cities in order to help build the vision of the Lubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—putting down roots, raising families and subsequently becoming vital catalysts for Ukraine’s Jewish rebirth. Today, these emissaries, rabbis and leaders of the Jewish communities of the Donbass find themselves in a state of transience, crammed into temporary apartments and hoping for the peaceful conclusion of a conflict with no end in sight.
Mariupol: The New Front Line
Most of the Donbass region is under the control of pro-Russian separatists, with little access to the outside world and where justice has become meted out in “people’s courts” by popular vote. In contrast, Mariupol—the 10th largest city in Ukraine—remains in Ukrainian hands; however, with war on its doorstep, the city has become the front line of the country’s war in the east. Just outside the boundaries of the port city, the Russian military has steadily been doing battle with Ukrainian defense forces, with rocket fire and shells often falling within the city limits. It’s been this way since September, and today, the threat of imminent warfare hangs heavy over Mariupol.
Rabbi Mendel Cohen, rabbi of Mariupol, Ukraine, and co-director of Chabad there with his wife, Ester, did not hold an outdoor public menorah-lighting this year, but did host numerous holiday events for all age groups.
“People are scared. You hear shooting on a daily basis, see troop movements, injured soldiers—that’s what you see in Mariupol,” says Rabbi Mendel Cohen, who serves as the city’s rabbi and, together with his wife, Ester, co-directs Chabad in Mariupol. “My situation is better than everyone else’s because at least I can go back and forth into my city because it is still Ukraine, but the circumstances are extremely dangerous. I pray for safety each time I enter and exit the city. ”
A boy in the after-school program at the Jewish community center in Mariupol receives a toy for Chanukah.
Like the rest of his fellow emissaries, Cohen and his family are living in less-than-ideal circumstances in Israel, far from their own beds, clothes and toys for the children. They’re not home and don’t know when they will be able to return. “Emotionally, this has been a very difficult time for me and for my family,” he acknowledges.
While the presence of an actual government has sustained a semblance of normalcy in the seaside city, Mariupol remains a tinderbox waiting to explode. “On the eighth day of Chanukah, the day I went back to Israel, an important railway bridge into the city was blown up,” reports Cohen, adding that it remains unknown if it was the work of saboteurs or hooligans. “Now, I’m going back to Mariupol in about a week, but no trains can take you directly into the city.”
Mariupol’s Jewish community has continued to function despite the war, and even as stress—both economic and psychological—continues to bear down on all of the city’s residents, a minyan(the quorum of 10 Jewish men needed to pray publically) gathers daily; the kindergarten remains open; and an afterschool program takes place at the Jewish community center each day.
“Chanukah was really amazing,” says Cohen, who is in Mariupol for about one week each month. “People were so happy to see us; that we were there, celebrating together. We had events every evening of Chanukah—for the elderly, for young people and for families with children. Our young people also visited the homes of elderly and sick people to help them participate in Chanukah.”
Kids at the Jewish after-school program in Mariupol show off their Chanukah presents.
Cohen says that for seven years, Mariupol has had a public menorah in its center, but this year he was advised not to assemble large crowds in open areas.
“It’s too dangerous, and I didn’t want to take that chance,” says Cohen. “It was painful when I drove by the place we usually do it. Hopefully, pulling back this year will lead to something even bigger next year.”
As he sat in a car on his way out of Mariupol, passing through multiple stringent Ukrainian military checkpoints, Cohen’s thoughts turned to the Jews of Mariupol. “We had such a nice Chanukah, old and young; it was beautiful. There was so much hope. How long can people live under the tremendous pressure they are experiencing now? Only G‑d knows how this will all end.”
The first of two articles on Jewish life in war-torn eastern Ukraine can be found here.
The children's part of a Chanukah concert in Mariupol. Rabbi Cohen says “Chanukah was really amazing. People were so happy to see us; that we were there, celebrating together.”
A Chanukah meal for families in Mariupol; its Jewish community, including a kindergarten and daily minyan at synagogue, continue to function despite the war.
Cohen notes that young members of the community visited the homes of the elderly and the sick to help them participate in the eight-day holiday. They also enjoyed traditional fried foods, like jelly doughnuts.
Members of the “EnerJew” group for young people, a semblance of normality. Even though the presence of an actual government still exists in the seaside city, Mariupol remains a tinderbox waiting to explode.
Jewish community members of Lugansk met in the city during Chanukah for a bit of a reprieve.
An outdoor menorah was lit in Lugansk in the backdrop of a city struggling under war.
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Chabad.org Magazine - Editor: Yanki Tauber
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