Editor's Note:
We’ve just entered a period of time known as the “Three Week,” when we mourn the destruction of our Holy Temples, our nation’s dispersion, and the suffering that has been our lot for much of the past 2,000 years.
In Hebrew this time is called Bein Hametzarim, which means “Between the Straits.” Visualize yourself squeezed between two cliffs, and you understand the name. As a nation, more often than not, we’ve been between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
But there is a positive message here as well. Sure, it takes effort to extract yourself from a pinch, but when you do, you’re likely to catapult forward, going farther and faster than if you’d not been pinched in the first place.
Yes, we are squeezed, and it sure isn’t comfortable, but we’re looking forward to the final push, when all our suffering and wandering will propel us to the greatest spiritual heights. May it happen soon.
The Chabad.org Editorial Team
P.S.: Have you ever felt squeezed by life circumstances, only to to transform the negative into a positive and come out stronger, healthier and happier than before? Please share your experience in the comments section. We’d love to be inspired by you.
Who Is Doing What?
G‑d wanted a being—a somebody—not a puppet. A creature that would decide, “This is how it should be done, using such-and-such and in such a way with such a feeling—this is what my Creator wants from me.”
The score is handed to us, but the music comes from our own souls.
This Week's Features
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Rabbi Y: Why Wait Between Meat and Milk? by Yehuda Shurpin
Rabbi Y: Why Wait Between Meat and Milk? by Yehuda Shurpin
I understand that the Torah tells us that you are not supposed to eat meat and dairy together, but why can’t I have a dairy dessert after I already finished eating my steak? What’s up with the six-hour buffer zone, and why is there no six-hour break between dairy and meat?
Meat and Dairy
In a somewhat cryptic discussion on this topic, the Talmud relates that the Babylonian sage Mar Ukva stated, “I am like vinegar, the son of wine. My father, if he would eat meat today, would wait until tomorrow to eat cheese. I, however, will not eat them during the same meal, but at another meal I will eat cheese . . .”1
While this statement makes it clear that one can’t eat meat and dairy at the same meal,2 the Talmud itself does not actually explain the reason why we need to wait six hours.3 However, the commentaries offer a number of reasons:
- Maimonides explains that we are concerned that meat may get stuck between the teeth.4 However, after six hours, it would deteriorate to the degree that it would not be considered meat.
- Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, known as Rashi, explains that due to the fatty nature of meat, the meaty taste can remain in a person's mouth for an extended period of time. If a person would eat dairy during this time, he would have the combined flavor of milk and meat in his mouth, which is prohibited.5 6
- Some explain that it takes up to six hours to fully digest meat.7
Dairy and Meat
So why don’t we wait an equally long time after eating dairy products before eating meat? If we look at the reasons above, it makes sense: the taste of dairy is not as strong, and pieces of dairy food do not generally get stuck in one's mouth. According to the Talmud,8 it's sufficient if one eats or drinks something else in order to cleanse the mouth of any residual dairy foods before eating meat.
However, according to the Zohar, one should be careful not only to refrain from eating milk and meat in the same meal, and but also in the same hour.9 For this reason, it is the Chabad custom to refrain from eating meat for a full hour after eating dairy; other communities have a custom of waiting a half hour before eating meat.
This is true for the majority of dairy products. When it comes to eating hard cheeses or cheeses with a very strong taste (e.g., parmesan and Swiss cheese), the custom is to wait six hours before eating meat.10
| FOOTNOTES | |
| 1. | Talmud Chulin 105a. |
| 2. | Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deiah 89:1; Shach 5. |
| 3. | Most commentaries interpret Mar Ukva’s statement to mean the wait should be six hours, since in those days, the rabbis would eat their morning meals around midday, so the average amount of time between the morning meal and the evening meal was six hours. There are minority opinions that hold that it's sufficient to wait one hour or three hours. If one belongs to a community that follows those opinions, he may rely on those leniencies. Otherwise, one should wait a full six hours. For more on this, see Meat & Milk. |
| 4. | Laws of Forbidden Foods 9:28. |
| 5. | Rashi on Chullin 105a. |
| 6. | On a practical level, one difference between these two reasons is that while according to Maimonides, a mother who merely chews on meat to soften it for her child would need to wait six hours, as there is most likely meat between her teeth, according to Rashi, she would seemingly not need to, since she didn't ingest the meat. See Tur, Yoreh Deiah 89. |
| 7. | Kreisi Upleisi 89:3. |
| 8. | Talmud Chullin 105a. |
| 9. | Zohar 2:125a. See also Rabbi Yishaye Halevi Horowitz, Shalah, Mesechet Shavuot 8, where he explains that on the holiday of Shavuot, when it is customary to have both a dairy and meat meal, one should both wait an hour and make a Birchat Hamazon after eating the dairy meal. In other words, it is not enough to eat neutral foods for an hour in between the dairy and the meat; one needs to make an after-blessing in between as well. |
| 10. | See Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deiah 89; Shach 15 and Taz 4, ad loc. |
3 Weeks
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I recently visited an apartment that was under construction. Tools were strewn about, nails were poking out from the floorboards, and doors were missing. It was a total mess. Despite the obvious rawness of the environment, I could not help but think about the potential this apartment had. In my mind’s eye I placed the china closet against one wall, chose my favorite color to paint the dining room walls, and imagined how much more spacious it would look if one of the walls were moved over just a little bit.
I have seen mansions and castles, none of which fascinated me to this extent. It was a total messI wondered what it was about this construction site that drew me so. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was the potential of its incompleteness that allowed me to use my creativity. The bareness was looking for a designer, and that designer could be me. The three weeks between the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av are a time when the Jewish people mourn the destruction of the Temple. The first nine days of the month of Av are an even more intense time, as we draw closer to the day when the devastating event took place. We abstain from listening to music, having weddings and buying new clothes. We avoid things that will make us happy, so that we can truly absorb and integrate the loss of the Temple into our modern-day psyche. Interestingly, the Lubavitcher Rebbe also encouraged the learning of the laws of the service in the Temple during this period. While in exile, we pray instead of offering sacrifices. Wouldn’t it be more relevant to study laws that pertain to our present-day service? The prophet Ezekiel felt similarly when G‑d appeared to him during the Babylonian exile, following the destruction of the First Temple. G‑d instructed him to tell the Jews about the building of the Second Temple. Ezekiel said to G‑d, “Your children are in exile; they cannot build the Temple.” G‑d responded, “Just because they are in exile, should the Temple not be built?” G‑d was communicating to Ezekiel that the destruction of the First Temple happened only in order to be followed by the building of the Second Temple, which was to be even more special than the first. G‑d did not want the Jewish people to be living with the reality of exile, but rather to be preparing for—and yearning for—the future redemption. The Lubavitcher Rebbe expressed this vision in many of his interactions. Once, when visiting Camp Gan Israel, he was taken on a tour. The campgrounds looked generally impressive. As they were passing a storage room, the Rebbe asked for it to be opened. It was strewn with tables and chairs, and covered in graffiti. To cover up his embarrassment, the tour guide said, “The graffiti is zecher l’churban (to commemorate the destruction of the Temple).” The Rebbe responded, “Zecher l’mikdash”—it is to commemorate the Temple itself. The Rebbe was pointing out a fundamental concept, not only regarding this storage room, but about our outlook on destruction and life in general. The churban, the destruction of the Temple, was a temporary event. The Temple, however, is eternal. It is expressed in every single one of our thoughts, deeds and actions. It is constantly being built on a spiritual level, and although it was once destroyed, in essence it still exists on this level. During this time of year, especially through studying the details of the Temple, we have the opportunity to manifest the potential of the “construction site” of exile and imagine its ultimate expression. This period may appear to be one of sadness and mourning, yet in truth it is a time of preparation for the true reality of redemption.How can we envision such a reality? How can we envision such a reality while living in exile and being faced with the day-to-day challenges it presents? Rabbi Akiva, a sage who lived during the time of the Second Temple, was able to see the destruction for what it really was, even while living in an intensely challenging time. He was once walking in Jerusalem with a group of fellow sages soon after the Temple was destroyed. They passed the Temple Mount and saw foxes roaming freely there. All the sages cried at the site of the desecration, but Rabbi Akiva laughed. When confronted about his seemingly inappropriate reaction, he said, “Now that the prophecy of the destruction of the Temple has come true, surely the prophecies regarding the rebuilding of the Temple will come true, too.” He saw the destruction as an event in a sequence, allowing something even greater and more eternal to happen. He was able to celebrate destruction, since he could envision a truer and even more beautiful reality. In his mind’s eye, the Temple was already being rebuilt. Exile may seem to be our reality. We live in a construction site strewn with tools and nails. In this setting, however, there is both exile and redemption. In exile, we both mourn the destruction of the first two Temples and build the Third Temple. As we mourn the destruction, we acknowledge the beauty that has been lost—yet here we stand, on the threshold of a new reality. Let us celebrate destruction so that we can embrace our ability to build a greater future.
Chaya Strasberg is
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3 Weeks
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Talk about Jewish guilt. It is said that if we don’t witness the rebuilding of the Holy Temple in our lifetime, it’s as if we witness its destruction. If that’s not difficult enough, the key to rebuilding is simple to articulate but challenging to do: to love another Jew for no reason whatsoever (ahavat yisrael). This love repairs the “baseless hatred” (sin’at chinam) that caused the Second Temple’s destruction on Tisha B’Av, the 9th of Av, in 69 CE.
Until Talk about Jewish guilt!the Temple is rebuilt, our nation stops to grieve during the three weeks leading up to the 9th of Av. During this period (known as the “Three Weeks”) there are no weddings, no haircuts and no music. During the nine days from the 1st of Av to the 9th of Av (the “Nine Days”), forget about swimming, eating meat (unless it’s Shabbat) and taking a summer vacation. Then there’s Tisha B’Av itself, a 25-hour-long fast that usually feels longer because it’s so ridiculously hot outside. But what I always disliked most about this time period was how clearly I could see what was lacking in me. When I was growing up, summer meant fun. And that’s what it continued to mean to my extended family, old friends and neighbors who didn’t know about the Three Weeks or the Nine Days or Tisha B’Av. They were happily taking vacations and making barbecues, while I was sitting home in the middle of summer with a bunch of kids and nothing to do. I have to admit that I didn’t always view my fun-loving fellow Jews so kindly during the Three Weeks. After all, I rationalized, I’d done a lot of heavy lifting to do what G‑d wants so that the Temple could be rebuilt. What about all the Jews who couldn’t care less? Which was exactly the worst possible thought I could think about other Jews, especially at this time. I knew that, too, which meant that I didn’t especially like myself at this time of year either. But even so, I always kept an image of the Temple in my mind, remembering how it inspired me during a Shabbaton my young family attended nearly 30 years earlier. Before that weekend, I knew that the Temple had existed—I had been to Jerusalem and seen the Western Wall—but I assumed it was basically a bigger version of our giant synagogue in Pittsburgh. (What else should I have thought? Everyone referred to our synagogue as “temple.”) When on this Shabbaton I learned that G‑d performed open miracles in the Temple in Jerusalem and that, up until its destruction, people actually knew that G‑d existed, I was thrilled to be able to confirm my suspicion about G‑d’s existence. The Temple in Jerusalem provided enough evidence for me that the whole G‑d and Torah story was true. From there, the idea chain was fairly straightforward: our mitzvahs hasten the coming of Moshiach, who will rebuild the Third Temple, which will exist for eternity. Learning about the Temple put Jewish history, indeed all of creation, into a meaningful context. My existential questions had answers right in my own religious backyard. By I have seen a change in my relationship with G‑d and the worldthe end of the Shabbaton, my husband and I signed on the spiritual dotted line, sure that we wanted to be part of the rebuilding campaign. But every year the Three Weeks would set me back, and I would fall into the trap of looking at what other Jews weren’t doing for G‑d. Only recently have I seen a change in my relationship with G‑d and the world. I am able to see other Jews in a way that I couldn’t before—to accept, care about and love them no matter what they do, even during the Three Weeks. That this attitude helps rebuild the Temple is almost secondary. It took many years for me to internalize that surrendering my will to G‑d’s will would be my ticket to personal happiness, and that what He wants most from me is to love other Jews. What surprises me still is how happy I am when I do it.
Lieba Rudolph lives in Pittsburgh, PA, and writes a weekly blog about Jewish spirituality.
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Judaism 101
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So, you have been invited to join a family for a Shabbat meal. What do you need to know?
General InformationShabbat is a day of rest that lasts from sundown on Friday evening through nightfall on Saturday night. In addition to a plethora of things that observant Jews will famously not do on Shabbat (such as driving, working, or turning on a light switch), there are a host of things we do do in order to “make the Shabbat a delight” (in the words of Isaiah 58:13).A big part of the “delight” of Shabbat is the enjoyment of three Shabbat meals, mainly the first two—Friday night dinner and Shabbat lunch—that are elegantly prepared, preceded by the sipping of ceremonial kiddush wine and the breaking of traditional challah bread, and lingered over with songs, inspiring thoughts and camaraderie. (The third meal, eaten late on Shabbat afternoon, is normally lighter.) If you are joining as a guest, the first thing for you to know is that guests are considered an integral part of any Shabbat meal. Your hosts are very happy to have you—their meal just would not feel right otherwise! When to ComeConfirm with your hosts what time they would like you to show up, and make sure you have good directions, as they will not be answering their phones starting at sundown on Friday night. The timeframe given may be loose—“sometime between 12 and 1”—and so you can be flexible in your arrival.If you are a woman attending a Friday night meal, your hostess may invite you to come early, before Shabbat starts at sundown, so that you can join her forcandle-lighting. If you do this, the time spent between candle-lighting and eating will likely be filled with a combination of chatting, preparing for the meal, or just simply relaxing on the couch. Your help setting up or reading to restive children will likely be appreciated. Note: Shabbat starts on Friday evening with sunset, so the exact time for each week’s Friday night meal may vary based on geography or time of year.Both the Friday night meal and the Shabbat day meal are preceded by services in the synagogue. Even if you don’t generally attend synagogue, or don’t attend the same one as your hosts, you can consider joining them this week, and then simply go home with them afterwards. What to BringThough not necessary, a small hostess gift is appropriate. If the gift is a food item, such as wine or chocolate, make sure that it is kosher (and if it is wine, that you see the word mevushal on the label). The world of kosher certification can be complicated. When in doubt, flowers always make a good gift.Avoid giving a dairy dessert, even a kosher one, as most Shabbat meals feature chicken or meat, and we do not serve dairy in the same meal as chicken or meat. If you do choose to give a gift, bring it to your hosts’ home before Shabbat starts. This may seem strange, but is actually quite normal in observant circles, since Torah does not allow us to carry or conduct transactions—including the giving or receiving of gifts—on Shabbat. Please don’t bring your gift when you come for the meal, as your hosts will not be able to receive it then. (If it feels very awkward to you to skip a gift altogether, you can always follow up with a thank-you note and a gift after Shabbat has ended . . . but rest assured that your hosts are absolutely not expecting you to do so.) What to WearClothing on Shabbat is a notch more formal and festive than on a weekday, so if you think “dinner party,” you will likely strike the right note. Men will fit right in with a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt (coat and tie optional) and kippah, and women with a modest dress or a modest top and skirt.What to Expect?After everyone has arrived and indulged in a few minutes of chit-chat, family and friends will move to the table and find their seats.At this point on a Friday night, your host, accompanied by his sons or other men present, will sing two hymns:
At the Shabbat day meal, we begin immediately with kiddush. KiddushYour host will recite kiddush holding a cup of wine, and everyone will receive a few sips of wine to drink. The recitation of this blessing over a cup of wine is a way of fulfilling the mitzvah of sanctifying the day of rest (the word kiddush translates as “sanctification”).On Friday night all typically stand for the recitation of kiddush, while on Shabbat day some people sit. Take your cues from those around you. ChallahImmediately following kiddush, everyone will leave their chairs and go to the sink for the ritual hand-washing for bread. If you are not familiar with this procedure, your hosts will be happy to guide you through it and help you recite the blessing.After washing hands, we don’t speak until after we’ve eaten some challah, so just return to your chair and wait quietly. Hand motions and facial expressions are often used for necessary communication at this point. When everyone is seated again, your host will recite the blessing over bread and then distribute challah, first dipping each piece in salt. After you’ve eaten a bite, feel free to talk again. The FoodThe traditional Friday night Shabbat meal features a fish course (with gefilte fish as an Eastern European classic, often nowadays accompanied by salads inspired by Israeli cuisine), followed by a soup course (most classic is chicken soup), and then a meat or chicken course.Shabbat day generally features a fish course and then a meat course containing a hot stew called tcholent. Since it is forbidden to cook food on Shabbat, the tcholent has been slowly cooking since Friday afternoon before sundown, either on the stovetop or in a crockpot. (Tcholent is the Eastern European term; in Sephardic parlance, the equivalent, often spicier, dish is known as chameen.) These multi-course menus are traditional but not mandatory, and it is increasingly common to serve a one-course Shabbat meal, but be prepared . . . what seems like an entire meal may be just the first course. All that, of course, followed by dessert! Don’t worry, you are not obligated to eat or even taste everything. What to DoEnjoy the food and the company! In addition to table talk, we make sure to include words of Torah at our Shabbat tables, and at some point someone will probably take the floor for a few minutes to present a Torah thought. If your hosts have children, they may share their knowledge of the weekly Torah portion and enjoy some positive attention. There will also likely be some singing, of traditional Shabbat hymns as well as other Jewish songs of a joyful or spiritual nature.You can feel comfortable discussing all the usual topics that might be discussed a dinner party—politics, recent experiences, the weather . . . and don’t be afraid to ask questions. If anything seems mystifying or unclear to you, don’t be shy. Your hosts or fellow guests will be happy to explain. If you lend a hand with clearing plates or carrying serving dishes, it will likely be appreciated. What Not to DoWhen you come, don’t ring the doorbell. Knock instead.Don’t take pictures. Don’t use your phone. When using the bathroom, avail yourself of the tissues or pre-torn toilet paper, rather than tearing toilet paper. Important: Please don’t turn off any lights, as there will be no Shabbat-permissible way to turn them back on. (If you have already mistakenly turned off the light in the bathroom, you can at least know that you are not the first one to have made this mistake . . . even those who have observed Shabbat for many years may unthinkingly do this.) Don’t worry, there is no problem at all with flushing the toilet. Grace After MealsAs the meal is winding down, someone will suggest bentching. This Yiddish word means “blessing,” and is a reference to the Grace After Meals. Small booklets will be brought to the table containing the text of the Grace After Meals. There are sure to be some booklets with an English translation, so you can read it comfortably yourself.Come again!
Nechama Golding is an associate editor for Chabad.org.
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Question
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I understand that the Torah tells us that you are not supposed to eat meat and dairy together, but why can’t I have a dairy dessert after I already finished eating my steak? What’s up with the six-hour buffer zone, and why is there no six-hour break between dairy and meat?
Meat and DairyIn a somewhat cryptic discussion on this topic, the Talmud relates that the Babylonian sage Mar Ukva stated, “I am like vinegar, the son of wine. My father, if he would eat meat today, would wait until tomorrow to eat cheese. I, however, will not eat them during the same meal, but at another meal I will eat cheese . . .”1While this statement makes it clear that one can’t eat meat and dairy at the same meal,2 the Talmud itself does not actually explain the reason why we need to wait six hours.3 However, the commentaries offer a number of reasons:
Dairy and MeatSo why don’t we wait an equally long time after eating dairy products before eating meat? If we look at the reasons above, it makes sense: the taste of dairy is not as strong, and pieces of dairy food do not generally get stuck in one's mouth. According to the Talmud,8 it's sufficient if one eats or drinks something else in order to cleanse the mouth of any residual dairy foods before eating meat.However, according to the Zohar, one should be careful not only to refrain from eating milk and meat in the same meal, and but also in the same hour.9 For this reason, it is the Chabad custom to refrain from eating meat for a full hour after eating dairy; other communities have a custom of waiting a half hour before eating meat. This is true for the majority of dairy products. When it comes to eating hard cheeses or cheeses with a very strong taste (e.g., parmesan and Swiss cheese), the custom is to wait six hours before eating meat.10
Rabbi Yehuda Shurpin responds to questions for Chabad.org's Ask the Rabbi service.
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Editor's Pick
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So you’re a chocolate lover. Maybe even a bona fide “chocoholic,” as the popular diagnosis goes. And yet, could you say you actually know the secret of chocolate? Here’s a test. Have you ever found yourself surveying the chocolate bar shelf at the supermarket and shaking your head in wonder: “Wow, who actually likes this 99% cocoa stuff?” Well then, you haven’t met a true blue-blooded chocolate aficionado. You’re a respectable chocolate dilettante like the rest of us; at best, a chocolate connoisseur.
A breed entirely apart, the aficionado alone still guards the secret of the Mokaya passed down  by the ancient Mayans in their culinary discovery of the frothy, harsh proto-chocolate beverage known as xocolātl, “bitter water.” The aficionado alone knows that chocolate is not really a confection. With each percentage point that the 100% cocoa mark of his afición is compromised by means of mellower substances like sugar, vanilla, lecithin, to say nothing of actual milk, one descends a step from his princely elevation down to the hoi polloi of so-called chocolate lovers.Is there anything at all of this dark secret that can be communicated to the uninitiated, we, chocolate beinonim? As in other such esoteric matters, the best explanatory approach involves a good metaphor. And there may be no better metaphor for the extreme gustatory phenomenon in question than the experience known in the Chabad psychoanalytic school as mara sheḥorah, “black bitter,” or more simply merirut, “bitterness.” The phrase mara sheḥorah has a long history. It is evidently a Hebraicization of the ancient concept of melaina kholé, the “black bile” secreted by the spleen which post-Hippocratic physicians saw as the humor responsible for the dark mood that came to be named after it, namely melancholia.1 In common parlance, of course, “melancholy” is often taken as a synonym for “sadness.” Chassidic psychology, however, perhaps with an eye to etymology, prefers to put the stress specifically on the bitterness that belongs to melancholia.  Rabbi Shneur Zalman explains the difference as follows: A broken heart and a bitter soul .... are not called sadness [atzvut] in the Holy Tongue. For in sadness the heart is dull like a stone and devoid of vitality. But in bitterness [merirut] and a broken heart there is, on the contrary, a vitality in the heart that percolates agitation and bitterness.2Agitation and bitterness over what? The most immediate domain of experience in which bitterness can have a positive value is teshuvah, repentance. In this domain, bitterness is in fact an immediate and urgent desideratum. But the fuller horizon in which bitterness is appropriate includes every preoccupation with bodily existence. Not just the sins for which one must repent, but even the desires one has not acted upon and even the kosher pleasures in which one has indulged,3 are an appropriate occasion for bitterness, even to the extreme emotional limit where one “despises one’s very life.”4 It is not appropriate, on the other hand, to be sad over this. And here is where the critical difference comes into play. Sadness tends to be bittersweet, rather than purely bitter. Which is why one can wallow in sadness: “O sinner that I am!” Indeed, an entire movement of Romantic poetry was even able to raise such emotional loitering to a methodical delectation in bittersweet “melancholy” orWeltschmerz. The feeling that “It’s a pleasure to be sad!”5 thus corresponds to the common run of chocolate that titillates the taste buds with a hint of uncomfortable dark depth while keeping the tongue at a safe distance from the full abyss, by comforting it with sugar and, if necessary, a splash of milk. Is this perhaps milk chocolate’s secret as a “comfort food”: that its sweetness keeps one comforted like a baby at its mother’s bosom while the darker cocoa tones resonate with whatever feelings of loss one needs to wallow in pathetically? Rabbi Shneur Zalman, in any case, confirms that such sadness is essentially a pathetic, passive experience. It lacks vitality. Whereas bitterness, by contrast, is an experience of heightened vitality. It is not like a piece of sweet milk chocolate melting scrumptiously in one’s mouth. It is like a piece of purest dark chocolate that provokes one to irritation and makes one want to spit out the stuff. It’s not comfort food. If anything, it’s discomfort food. For this reason, the experience of bitter melancholia presents itself as an opportunity, a “propitious hour” for actually doing something, changing something about one’s life.6 In fact, it is instrumentalfor producing joy. “For there is no greater joy than the escape from exile and imprisonment.”7 Melancholy is an instrument in the way that Egypt, that “iron crucible” (Deuteronomy 4:20), was an instrument for refining the souls of the Israelites so that they could know prophetic joy at the foot of Mount Sinai. Using this to explain the issue at hand, then, we might draw the following comparison. Just as the captivity in Egypt, where the lives of the Israelites were made “bitter” (Exodus 1:14), has a instrumentality that must not be forgotten even by the former captive who might have wished to put the days of his captivity altogether behind him,8 so too, for the exclusive club of chocolate aficionados in question, 100% pure bitter chocolate is not something to spit out, despite the natural desire to do so. Indeed, the natural desire to spit it out, paradoxically enough, constitutes the sublime supernatural appeal of this chocolate. How does one enjoy the taste of something one wants to spit out? More or less the same question: How does one enjoy the taste of maror, “bitter herbs,” on Pesach? We have the son of Rabbi Shneur Zalman, Rabbi DovBer, to thank for revealing a secret told to him by his father which untangles the paradox. This is something I heard straight from the lips of my father and master, of blessed memory, who heard it in these very words from his teacher, the Maggid of Mezritch, of blessed memory: A person cannot receive the secret truths of the Torah or experience the light of the Infinite in a deep way, a way that really grabs his soul, unless he suffers from a natural and essential bitter melancholy … This is genuine, natural soul-brokenness to the point that he is constantly irritated with his life from minute to minute. Then the Source of all life, the Source of everything, will reside within him and bring him back from his depression. As Scripture says: “Where will I dwell? With him who is depressed and humble of spirit.” In all that he does in contemplating the secrets of the Torah, these secrets are transmitted to his soul in a truly revealed manner. .... Then all his sighs and bitter melancholic emotions will be transformed into joy and pleasure … .9There is a secret wisdom to which bitter melancholia alone is privy. As the wisest of men, King Solomon, put it, with memorable succinctness: “Vanity of vanities! ... Vanity of vanities! All is vanity!” (Kohelet 1:1)  Existential melancholy is an experience of the soul arising from the latter’s antipathy toward the body and all its pleasures. Again, where more typical forms of melancholy arise from “bodily lacks and deprivations”10 and pathological needs, existential melancholy arises from the fulfillment of the body’s desires. Bitterly enduring human life in a half-embodied half-disembodied state, the soul rises to an altitude where it experiences new powers of perception. It is given a higher vision. It is permitted to peer into another dimension, the innermost dimension of the Torah.How does the joy of such spiritual soaring and sublime visions co-exist with the bitterness? Is the bitterness altogether overcome and completely replaced by joy? Not so long as the soul is embodied, even if only in part. Rabbi Shneur Zalman cites a teaching from the Zohar regarding the simultaneity of the conflicting emotions: “Weeping is lodged in my heart on that side, while joy is lodged in my heart on this side.”11 There is no such thing as holistic joy, according to chassidic psychology. That’s an illusory and unattainable ideal for pagans and hippies. Joy, true joy, simcha, is an experience that can be attained only in a perfectly “schizoid” or bicameral psyche. The animal soul is at war with the divine soul, like two nations fighting over a small city.12 Thus, when the divine soul has the ascendancy, so that the animal soul is forced to turn upon itself in bitter melancholia, this bitterness actually compliments the joy. It even supports it. For the weeping of the animal soul is what creates the necessary conditions for the divine soul’s rejoicing. The weeping is positively instrumental. And not like a styrofoam cup to be crumpled up and thrown in the garbage after use. The instrumentality of the weeping is like that of a sacred vessel in the Holy Temple. The talmudic sages require that the cosmic mysteries in Ezekiel’s vision of the supernal Chariot, the Ma’ase Merkava, be transmitted “only to one whose heart is anxious within him.”13 “His heart is in a state of constant anxiety,” Rabbi DovBer explains, “over when he will get to see the face of the living G‑d.”14 If our metaphor has been adequate to the task, to conclude, any intelligent chocolate lover should be able to draw the necessary parallels. The special appeal that the darkest bitter chocolate has for those few who can “enjoy” this biting flavor (for, indeed, this anti-flavor is really that of an anti-food that bites back) is the secret knowledge that knows: All the delicacies and of this world, chocolate included, are empty vanities—and beyond these hollow delights, yet on this side of life, a “flavor” is to be found of which the milkiest, sweetest, most truffle-like chocolate confection is but a remote, all-but-insipid metaphor.
Michael Kigel received his Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Toronto for his dissertation on the Book of Job, after a specialization in 20th-century French and German thought. In Canada he taught in the departments of philosophy and of Jewish studies at the
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He was formally accused of treason, demonized, insulted and arrested. The events of his life had a profound effect on European and Jewish affairs. Indeed, his name has become synonymous with “scapegoat.”
Despite the lack of hard evidence supporting his guilt, he was stripped of his military rank, sentenced to deportation, and caused to suffer tremendously—just because he was Jewish. Ultimately he was acquitted of his crime and allowed to return to military service, but was not publicly declared innocent by the military until almost 100 years later. He was Alfred Dreyfus. 
Alfred Dreyfus, wrongfully convicted of treason, had a profound effect on European and Jewish affairs
Early Life and FamilyAlfred Dreyfus was born on October 9, 1859, in Mulhouse, in the Alsace region of France, to Raphaël and Jeannette Dreyfus (née Libmann), the youngest of nine children. Raphaël, once a peddler, had become a successful textile manufacturer.Jews had lived in the region since the fifth century, but the first stable Jewish communities in Alsace appeared in the eleventh century. It was decreed in 1215 by the Fourth Lateran Council that Jews were to wear specific clothes, in order to be recognizable, and were forbidden from participating in social or occupational groups such as guilds. In 1349, most Jews disappeared from Alsace due to violence and expulsion. The few that returned were often attacked and expelled due to blood libels or other fallacious accusations. The communities in this area were always fluctuating, but by the sixteenth century, 160 families lived there.1 By the time Dreyfus was born, Mulhouse was a very affluent city in the Alsace region. Although Raphaël spoke Yiddish, German was also the first language of most of the Dreyfus children; only Alfred and one brother were educated in French.2 In 1871, Alsace was annexed by Germany following the Franco-Prussian War.3 After the annexation, the Dreyfus family moved to Paris.4 Entering the Military and MarriageIn 1878, Alfred Dreyfus, who had witnessed much war in his childhood, entered the École Polytechnique military school in Paris, where he trained for military service.5 He then went on to attend the artillery school at Fontainebleau, reaching the level of lieutenant in 1885. In 1889 he was promoted to captain and made adjutant to the director of the École Centrale de Pyrotechnie Militaire.6As a captain, Dreyfus was accepted to the École Supérieure de Guerre in 1890. A few days later, at the age of 31, he married 20-year-old Lucie Eugénie Hadamard,7 whose family was religious. They were married under a chupah in the main synagogue of Paris, by Chief Rabbi Zadoc Kahn.8 They had two children,9 Pierre10 and Jeanne.11 
The children of Alfred Dreyfus, Pierre and Jeanne (dreyfus.culture.fr)
During this period, on January 1, 1893, Dreyfus was appointed intern to the Army Staff Office.12 He was respected for his mastery of “military theory and administrative procedures,” and was called "intelligent, hard-working and blessed with a prodigious memory.”13 The Arrest“High Treason: Arrest of the Jewish Officer Alfred Dreyfus,” read the November 1, 1894, headlines of the La Libre Parole newspaper.On September 27, 1894, a piece of paper with detailed reports of the positions of French soldiers and information about artillery was found in a trashcan in the German embassy.14 The handwriting on this document, thereafter called the bordereau,15 was compared to the handwriting sample of Dreyfus, after Major Armand du Paty de Clam ordered Dreyfus to write a prepared text that he dictated. Five experts analyzed the handwriting samples, but only three found them to be similar.16 Despite the lack of evidence, Dreyfus was arrested on October 15, 1894.17 The Minister of War, General Auguste Mercier, announced in November that he had “positive proof of Dreyfus’s treason.” The trial was held in private, without the public’s access. General Mercier provided the judges with fabricated incriminating documents.18 Dreyfus was then sentenced to deportation to a fortress. His sentence was confirmed on December 31, 1894, by the review board,19 and on January 5, 1895, Dreyfus was formally cashiered:20 his rank insignia, buttons and braid were cut from his uniform, and his sword was broken. 
Representation of the cashiering ceremony, where Dreyfus was stripped of his honor
An Island PrisonIn accordance with the sentence of deportation, Dreyfus was transported to Devil’s Island, a former leper colony,21 off the coast of French Guyana. He was imprisoned in a small stone hut, surrounded by a high wall. Vermin and scorpions inhabited the same enclosure. Dreyfus was shackled for prolonged periods of time, and his food, usually foul, was cooked and eaten in rusty cans.In total he endured 1517 days on Devil’s Island, from April 13, 1895, to June 9, 1899.22 Dreyfus, unaware of the great tumult happening in France on his behalf, was a model prisoner.23 New Evidence and The AffairIn France, the Dreyfus family began fighting for his release.At the beginning of the ordeal, the French public supported the conviction; it was easy to assume that the Jewish soldier was the one at fault. Anti-Semitism was already growing very prevalent in that decade, and this event only furthered the already established consensus on Jews.24 
Anti-Semitic newspaper headline, reads: “The Treason of the Jewish Dreyfus”
Initial public support for the conviction was, in part, also due to the plethora of anti-Semitic organizations and publications, such as the newspaper La Libre Parole,25 edited by Édouard Drumont, publishing more articles in the first stages of the arrest than other groups. On November 6, 1894, La Libre Parole published the headline “The Treason of the Jewish Dreyfus.” At that time French Jews were called Israelites, not Jews. The very mention of the term “Jew” evoked the image of illegal immigrants from the Russian Pale of Settlement.26 Through articles and drawings, Dreyfus was presented as a symbol of the supposed disloyalty of Jews to France.27 Soon, though, sides began to form. Lieutenant Colonel Georges Picquart,28 head of the French army’s counterintelligence unit, recognized Ferdinand Walsin-Esterhazy’s handwriting, not that of Dreyfus, on the bordereau and had him brought before a court-martial in 1897.29 Esterhazy, the true author of the document, was acquitted of the crime. He fled to Belgium and then to London to escape prosecution.30 Those against reopening the case were called the anti-Dreyfusards. The Dreyfusards, at first just the Dreyfus family, were those who pushed to reopen the case.31 The Jewish community support included Chief Rabbi Zadoc Kahn and others.32 On January 13, 1898, Emile Zola published his famous open letter headlined “J’Accuse” (“I Accuse”),33 denouncing the military for its fabrications and lies.34 AcquittalEventually, the very documents that had once “proved” Dreyfus to be guilty were exposed as forgeries.35 The case began to unravel, and after a new court-martial found Dreyfus guilty in September 1899, the President pardoned him. He was then reinstated into the military. In July 1906 a civilian court of appeals set aside the judgment of the court-martial, and Dreyfus was rehabilitated. But it was not until 1995 that the French military declared his innocence publicly.36Later YearsDreyfus continued to serve in the military until he requested retirement on June 26, 1907. However, he was called up again at the beginning of World War I on August 2, 1914. Dreyfus was promoted to lieutenant-colonel of the Reserves in the fall of 1918, and was made an officer in the Legion of Honor by Clemenceau in July of 1919.His grandchildren remembered him as distant, often crying out at night because of his experiences.37 Dreyfus died at his home in Paris on July 12, 1935, and was buried at the Montparnasse Cemetery on July 14, 1935.38. Lasting EffectsThe Dreyfus Affair brought to light the age-old evils of anti-Semitism, abuse of the innocent, and the struggle for power. Due to the fight between the Dreyfusards and the anti-Dreyfusards, and the miscarriage of justice, parts of society began to change. The press began to be used as a weapon, and it became a key player in politics and social change for future decades.Jews were left wondering how it was possible that in one of the most modern countries such great injustice was able to be done. The Affair demonstrated that despite promises of equality and progress, Jews were not able to fully integrate into European society. Reportedly, the Dreyfus Affair also inspired Theodor Herzl and his dream of Zionism. Herzl had been sent from Vienna to represent the Neue Freie Presse, as were journalists from most leading newspapers in Europe. As he saw the case unfold, he realized that the methods used by the government were unjust and that the case itself was unfair. He felt that only by having their own homeland could Jews receive respect from the other peoples of the world. Despite all that he suffered, Alfred Dreyfus never lost his love for his country and his search for truth. Even while suffering on Devil’s Island, he never lost hope and he did not become embittered by his situation. After he was acquitted of wrongdoing, he even returned to the organization that had unjustly sentenced him to many years of suffering, and once again served with distinction and pride.
Chaya Mindel Way is a student at
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Parshah
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We find a haunting passage in this week’s Torah portion, Pinchas. G‑d has delivered to Moses the painful news that he will die in the desert and not lead the Jewish people into the Promised Land. When the people reach the eastern bank of the Jordan, the future inheritance of the tribes of Reuben and Gad, Moses’ hopes rise: Perhaps if G‑d allowed him to come this far, the decree will be annulled and he will lead the Jewish people across the Jordan as well.1 But G‑d informs Moses that His decision is final. Moses will ascend Mount Avarim and be gathered unto his people, just as his brother Aaron had died before him.2
He will die in the desertAt this, Moses turns to G‑d and begins to give Him instructions: “And Moses spoke to G‑d, saying . . .”3 This is quite a departure from the norm, as usually this expression is used when G‑d is giving Moses instructions to relay to the Jewish people. The word“leimor,” “saying,” means, “let me know if my instructions were carried out.”4 So Moses quite boldly turns the tables on G‑d. What is Moses’ directive to G‑d? “Appoint a man over the congregation, who will go forth before them and come before them, who will lead them out and bring them in, so that the congregation of the L‑rd will not be like sheep without a shepherd.”5 Although Moses is not completely reconciled to his death in the desert (as we will see later in the Parshah of Va’etchanan), he can not leave the world in peace without knowing that his people will be in good hands. G‑d accedes to Moses’ request, and instructs him to appoint Joshua as his successor: “Take for yourself Joshua the son of Nun, a man of spirit, and you shall lay your hand upon him. And you shall present him before Elazar the Kohen and before the entire congregation, and you shall command him in their presence. You shall bestow some of your majesty upon him so that all the congregation of Israel will take heed.”6 After this matter is addressed, G‑d then turns back to Moses and they resume their familiar roles: G‑d gives Moses a command to relay to the Jewish people, regarding the daily sacrificial offering, thekorban tamid. Rashi comments that G‑d was saying to Moses, “Before you command me regarding My children, command My children regarding Me.” This is analogous to a princess who is about to depart from the world and instructs her husband about her children. He replies, “Before you instruct me about them, instruct them about me.”7 Since these two themes are linked—appointing a new leader and bringing the daily tamid offering—there must be a relationship between them. The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains that Moses’ primary concern was that the Jewish people not be left “as sheep without a shepherd.” It was not their physical survival that was at stake. After all, they were a community of adults who surely would figure out how to manage in their own land. Moses was worried about their spiritual survival. Without a strong leader, who would provide the spiritual guidance they needed to establish a homeland on a strong moral footing, one that would fulfill G‑d’s vision for the Holy Land, his “land of desire”? Who would provide the spiritual guidance they needed?And G‑d’s answer to this was the command to bring a korban tamid. Through the act of bringing a daily sacrifice in the Temple, the people would acknowledge that G‑d is the King of the Universe, and that the world runs according to His guidance and providence. By keeping this in mind at all times, the people would not be left “as sheep without a shepherd.” This concept helps us to understand the purpose of the animal sacrifices. Does G‑d need our meat? Rabbi Shimon ben Azzai says,8 “Is G‑d perhaps in need of food? The text therefore states, ‘If I were hungry I would not tell you, because the world and its fullness are Mine.’9 It also says, ‘For every beast of the forest is Mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills.’10 Do I eat the flesh of bulls or drink the blood of goats? It is not for My sake that you bring sacrifices but for your own sake, as is written, ‘You shall sacrifice it from your own will.’”11 Since G‑d does not need to eat, then why are sacrifices described in terms of food, as in, “My offering, my bread”? While G‑d certainly does not need physical food, He does have a “need” for nourishment in some form. Just as we live as souls enclothed in bodies, G‑d’s presence suffuses the entire world, sustaining it and bringing it into existence at every moment. Just as we need food to sustain the soul so it can animate the body, G‑d needs the nourishment of our sacrifices to reveal His presence in this world. It’s not that G‑d would not exist without our sacrifices, G‑d forbid. But bringing the offering is one way for us to acknowledge and thus expose the G‑dliness present in this world. When we bring a korban, there are two aspects: what it does for G‑d and what it does for us. On the one hand, our offerings do bring pleasure to G‑d. The verse describes the sacrifice as “a fire offering, a pleasing spirit to G‑d.”12 Yet, as ben Azzai explains, the entire purpose of the offering, including the “pleasing spirit,” is not for G‑d’s benefit but for our own. G‑d’s desire and “need” for korbanot is but one instance of His desire and need for all of creation. Why does He need a world? Why does He need us? The most fundamental concept in chassidic thought is that G‑d created the world because He wanted a relationship with us. He doesn’t need our food, but He does need us to turn to Him on a regular basis and say, “G‑d, we know You are there. We know this is Your world and we want You to be revealed in it.” Why does He need a world?Moses did his part by demanding that G‑d send the appropriate leader who would guide us how to accomplish this. G‑d did His part by providing us with specific instructions—in the form of korbanot and other mitzvahs—by which we can relate to Him, interact with Him and even give Him pleasure. Now we need to do our part. The action is the main thing. Each time we do a mitzvah, each time we give up a little of ourselves or of our hard-earned possessions for the sake of G‑d, we make G‑d’s desire into a reality. We make the world into a home for G‑d. (Based on an address of the Rebbe, Likutei Sichot, vol. 12, pp. 10-19.)
Chaya Shuchat is the author of A Diamond a Day, an adaptation of the chassidic classic Hayom Yom for children, as well as many articles on the interface between Chassidism and contemporary life. She is a pediatric nurse practitioner with a master’s
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Parshah
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This week's Torah portion begins with the reward which Phinehas received for his act of bravery—meting out punishment to Zimri ben Salu who was openly contemptuous of Moses and was cohabiting with a Midianite woman. Zimri was the chieftain of the Tribe of Shimon, who were staunchly loyal to their leader. Thus Phinehas' act was fraught with danger. The Talmud speaks of the various miracles which occurred on that day which allowed Phinehas to emerge unscathed from Zimri's tent.
Phinehas' act wasn't too rational. He was the proverbial man in Tiananmen Square standing in front of the approaching column of tanks. His chances of success were minimal, but he was merely following the example of the very first Jew. Abraham was a young man in Ur, living amongst a pagan society, when he started preaching a philosophy of monotheism. This was before our Founding Fathers invented revolutionary concepts such as the freedoms of Speech and Religion, and the dictatorial tyrant Nimrod was decidedly displeased with the nuisance Abraham was creating. In fact, Abraham was called the "Ivri" (Hebrew), which means "from the other side," because the entire world was on one side while he, with his monotheistic beliefs, was on the other side. But Abraham didn't flinch because he knew that he was doing the right thing. Phinehas' chances of success were minimal, but he was merely following the example of the very first JewThe story of Abraham and Phinehas has repeated itself like a broken record throughout our difficult but glorious history. Our nation would not exist today if not for the many heroic, odds-defying acts performed by courageous individuals and groups. Two examples: The holiday of Chanukah celebrates the bravery of a small group of people who refused to reconcile themselves with the spiritual pollution of Hellenism and battled a Greek army which was many times larger and stronger than they. This week's Torah portion always falls in proximity to the 12th of Tammuz, the day when Chabad chassidim celebrate the miraculous release of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the sixth Chabad Rebbe, from Stalinist-communist prison in 1927. This after he was sentenced to be executed by a firing squad. At a time when teaching Torah meant almost certain death or Siberian slave labor, the Rebbe did not despair. He defied the Soviet regime, and encouraged his followers to do the same. He established underground yeshivas, mikvahs, kosher slaughter-houses, etc., and he personally oversaw and arranged for the financing of this underground network of Jewish defiance. The end result of all these stories was victory. Abraham's opponents are relegated to the annals of history, whereas millions of his descendants still follow the path which he paved. [Actually, his legacy includes not only the Jews, but also most of the population of the world today that follow religions which are ostensibly monotheistic – and all of them find their roots in Abraham.] Phinehas was rewarded for his deed, and to this very day his offspring serve as Kohanim (priests) who bless the Jewish people and will resume their service in the Holy Temple with the coming of the Moshiach. The Greeks were banished from the Holy Land; Torah-true Judaism continued to flourish; and we were given another few days every year to celebrate, eat, and be merry… Jewish education continued behind the Iron Curtain until the day when it was shattered. They are gone, and the Torah is still here. Even when the odds are against us, we must put up a fight for that which is right. We must do what is incumbent upon us, and G‑d will take care of the rest.
Rabbi Naftali Silberberg is a writer, editor, and director of the curriculum department at the Rohr Jewish Learning Institute. Rabbi Silberberg resides in Brooklyn, NY, with his wife Chaya Mushka and their three children.
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Parshah
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On the plane back to America, I was sitting next to a psychologist who mentioned to me how important it is for them never to psychoanalyze family members. One of the reasons: it’s not fair. Of course, Jews were psychoanalyzing way before Sigmund invited people to lie on his couch—we just had no name for it.
For the non-professional, a greater danger is pseudo-analysis. “Oh, she always does that, she’s so compulsive.” “There he goes again with his bipolar.” Worse: “The reason she always helps is because she’s eager to please—it’s her low self-esteem.” “You know why he gives so much tzedakah? He needs to see his name on a building. Typical megalomaniac!” Says who? Is it that simple to know everything going on in someone else’s head? Are you always that accurate with what’s happening in your own head? Secondly, what difference does it make? A good act with bad intentions beats a bad act with good intentions—and the pavement is a lot smoother. Granted, giving it your best and things not succeeding the way you like is aggravating and unrewarding. We know that. And all G‑d asks is that you do your best; the results are in His hands, we accept that. And that no action is ever wasted, good always accumulates, and whether results are immediately recognized or not is immaterial in the long run—and, from a G‑dly, timeless (beyond quantum physics) perspective, redundant. We believe that. But that is not what we’re talking about. Look at it this way: Guy A helps old lady cross street because: the TV crew is filming, she has a big will, she has a wealthy nephew, etc. Guy B doesn’t help old lady cross street because: the TV crew is filming, she has a big will, she has a wealthy nephew, and how dare you think he’s so shallow! See, bottom line is, the lady needs help; your yin-yang harmony don’t do much. As the Kabbalah puts it: Love and awe are what make a mitzvah soar. A mitzvah without love and awe is a bird without wings. Love and awe without a mitzvah is wings without a bird. Okay, so action is it. But can intentions be improved, sublimated, sanctified? Well, now you’re getting serious. But if you’re not just doing it, then you’re seriously not getting it. The Parshah? When Pinchas acted decisively, he was ridiculed because his grandfather, a pantheistic priest, had done similarly: a plus-c’est-change chip off the old block in different circumstance. No, G‑d announced at the beginning of the Parshah, he did good; I alone know the inner workings of man. Judge him primarily by what he does. And unless you’re in the business, your couch is for people to sit on—and if you’re blessed with it, for overflow company to sleep on.
Rabbi Shimon Posner is the director of Chabad of Rancho Mirage, California.
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VIDEO
Tour the Western Wall
Join Rabbi Mordechai Weiss as he tours the Western Wall in Jerusalem, and discover its history and significance.
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Tour the Western Wall
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Story
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During his visit to New York in 1930, the Previous Rebbe stayed at the newly opened Roosevelt Hotel. Crowds of Jews gathered outside the hotel each day, hoping to see the Rebbe and request a blessing.
One morning, two young, wealthy businessmen were passing by and asked why the crowd had gathered. When they heard that a holy Rabbi from Europe was visiting and giving out blessings, they joked that the old Rabbi just wants their money. To prove their theory, they joined the waiting crowds to see if they would be called sooner than the others since they appeared to be wealthy and dignified. Meanwhile, the Rebbe’s secretary, Rabbi Eli Yechiel Simpson, “was making his rounds,” inquiring about each person’s reason for seeing the Rebbe. Sure enough, within minutes, they were called to the front of the line! As they were ushered into the Rebbe’s room, the pair smirked — pleased to have been so quickly proven right. The Rebbe asked the businessmen to sit, and before they could say a word, he began: “You’re probably wondering why I asked to see you before those who have been waiting longer. You see, many of these people want a blessing for health. But I’m not a doctor, and to bless them with good health is a strenuous task. Likewise, others want me to bless their business endeavors. But I’m not a businessman; I never studied economics, and giving the correct blessing is quite taxing. “But when I heard that there were two young Jews wanting to know how one can be religious in America, I said, ‘Here we go! This is precisely my area of expertise. Please send them right in.’” “What area of business are you in?” asked the Rebbe. “We are diamond merchants,” they replied. “What is your profit margin?” the Rebbe asked. “We have a 100% markup rate.” “And if someone were willing to pay only 20%, would you still make the deal?” “Yes,” the men replied. “What if the same person came back the next day. Would you again take the 20%?”the Rebbe asked. “Of course not!” the businessmen explained. “We would try again to get the full price.” “That,” concluded the Rebbe, “is the secret to being Jewish in America. It’s easy to be 20% observant and feel comfortable with that. But it’s important to remember the 100% and strive for it.” Now, we’re only human, and sometimes we’ll only get to 20% — certainly better than nothing because it’s still a profit. But the next day, we have to strive for 25%, then 30%, and so on until we’re closer to 100%. Keeping our eye on the prize — the 100% — will keep us motivated and inspired. Original translation by Rabbi Mordechai Lipskier who heard it from Rabbi Berel Futerfas
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory; adapted by Dovid Shraga Polter
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Women
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I feel as though I am swimming. Sometimes I’m going upstream, against the current. Sometimes there is a weight on my body, further slowing me down. The water is cool and refreshing and it’s supposed to be enjoyable—so why does it feel so oppressive and burdensome?
I consider myself to be a generally happy person. But there are days when my brain is so fired up with worries of what if’sWhy does it feel so oppressive and burdensome? and how could’s that my fight-or-flight instincts take center stage, resulting in mental paralysis, emotional hyperactivity, and the never-ending feeling of swimming upstream while weighted down. Most days begin with gratitude. I’m thankful be an emissary of the Rebbe and to work as a preschool director. I’m filled with joy at seeing my beautiful, healthy children waking up in the morning. And then, sometimes all it takes is a teacher telling me she is moving away, or a parent letting me know she has decided to switch to public school, to set my anxiety in motion. I imagine worst-case scenarios emerging: I will never find a replacement teacher this late in the game, more families will pull out when they hear this family is leaving, and on and on. I slowly spiral deeper down the rabbit hole that I have created for myself. Before long, I imagine no school and no job. Sound familiar? I know I am not in this alone. I hear it from friends, infer it from comments, and see it in the eyes of people around me. More telling is the way people parent and make life choices, so often basing their decisions on fear and worry. (Think: “You have how many kids? How will you afford to pay for college, cars when they are 16, and savings for their future?”) Fear is all around us. The Facebook newsfeed filled with information about the hazards of GMOs and spray sunscreen. The you-think-your-child-won't-walk-off-with-a-stranger-well-you-are -certainly-wrong video on Whatsapp. And, of course, the things that hit closer to home—a sick relative, a pink slip, a child's diagnosis—that fill us with dread. Just the other day, a friend who is going through a particular challenge said to me, "I can handle this challenge, it’s OK, it’s just that you don't know which bad news is lurking around the corner." Living with this thought is neither positive nor healthy, it is swimming upstream with a heavy weight. “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself,” as Franklin Roosevelt so famously stated in his inaugural address. When I am self-aware enough to notice my actions are based on fear, I stop and take stock: Did I contribute to the situation that is causing me distress? Was I party to the choices being thrust upon me? Essentially, I need to turn my fear into faith and a cognitive therapy of sorts. The critical teaching of the Baal Shem Tov is that our entire existence is based on divine providence, hashgacha pratit. Everything that happens to us is orchestrated by the One above, specifically tailored to our existential needs and growth. And all our actions are predetermined, except moral and ethical choices. This message is so deep and vast that I have not fully grasped it. But it is with this mindfulness that I can come back to myself. I remember that I did not cause the teacher to need to relocate to a new city, nor cause the parent to decide carpooling and tuition for preschool are not her priority. Nothing here is in my control, and none of it means failure for the future. Even if, in the future, I can trace back to this moment in time and say, "I knew it! I knew this would cause me to fail,” I actually did not know anything, and I had no control over the situation anyway. TheNothing here is in my control appropriate response to the above situations would be to vigorously search for a new teacher, enlighten the parent about staying in a Jewish school, and assure the other parents that there would not be a mass exodus. It’s a response quite the opposite of paralysis and drama. Because that is all I can do, that is all I should do—turn my fear into faith and positive actions. And then there is the place where I really want to be at, and that is joy—no matter the circumstances. And really, what better gift can we give ourselves and our children, friends and colleagues, than being pleasant to be around? And here is the bottom line: I teach my children deliberately about the dangers and opportunities of friends and strangers. I did not invent the sunscreens or the GMOs that may or may not be harmful. Because I am not in control of these matters, I am not going to let my fears of them grip me and take over. The emotions each of us experience are real: There is disappointment, hurt, sadness and pain. But there is also joy, awe and laughter. We must try to reject the mind-numbing negativity that fear imposes, and instead focus on faith and, hopefully, real joy. Then we will best be able to serve G‑d.
Dena is a mother of 8 children including three year old twins, and Chabad Shlucha in Atlanta, GA. She is the Director of the Intown Jewish Preschool, wife to her husband, and spends time writing, interacting with, teaching, and mentoring the people in her community.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Women
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The sunshine streams through my large floor-to-ceiling windows. I am enjoying a cup of tea and a quiet moment when my baby is sleeping and all is peaceful in my heart and home.
I deeply appreciate these minutes of solitude. My mind is quiet and I pause, thanking G‑d for this point in time, when everything feels calm. The silence is broken by the ringing of my phone. The screen proclaims, “BLOCKED CALL.” I know what this means. It is a phone call from Chaim Boruch’s classroom. I immediately put down my cup and my heart skips a beat. Seemingly, a part of me is always on edge. But this phone call is one that changes my life in a magnificent way—a new piece placed into the puzzle of our journey with Chaim Boruch, a new window to the vast horizon that lies deep within his heart, soul and mind. The teacher’s voice is full of excitement and energy and the words seem to tumble out all at once. She places me on the phone with her classroom assistant, who explains in detail what occurred only moments before, while my son was in a mainstream third grade class, which he visits daily with his aid. Once I got off the phone, tears streaming down my cheeks, I realized I couldn't possibly recount the happenings of the morning. I immediately asked this most dedicated teacher to please share with me in writing what occurred, so I could hold onto it for life and recount this story of my special Chaim Boruch: Dear Chana,I am in awe, overwhelmed with sheer admiration, wonder and respect for this brilliant little boy. My heart is pounding within my chest, with even more love than I ever thought was possible to experience. How does he know the scent of a forest? How would he know the texture of “soft”? Of “rough”? Of the combination of both? How is it that he knows the varying shades and colors of life? How remarkable is it that he soaks up the hues and textures of the world around him, surprising and delighting us to our core? I am left feeling so grateful, so proud, so humbled. I am left without words. I too remain in the silence of my mind, not uttering a sound, just like my little boy. Yet my heart speaks volumes upon volumes. My soul plays louder than any symphony that ever existed. Rough. Soft. Forest. The sunshine streams through my large floor-to-ceiling windows, and I finish my cup of tea and close my eyes. I use every sense within me, and smell the the scent of forest. A fresh fragrance of cedar, pine, leaves, moss and soil. My fingers gently run along the rough and soft texture of bark from the gigantic redwood trees, eyes closed, all the while. A chassidic master once asked his disciples, “If you find yourself lost in a forest, are you better off being lost while walking or while riding on a horse?” One student replied, “Of course, you would be better off being lost while walking on foot, as you wouldn’t be as far lost to begin with, compared to one who was riding on a horse!” The Rebbe replied with a smile, “It is better to be lost while riding a horse, because as soon as you realize you are lost, you can find your way back much faster.” In other words, a person who strays so far from the path of Torah can return so quickly, if he has the energy and motivation. Life is often like a forest, with “rough” patches and “soft” moments. We often get lost, find our way . . . and very often, get lost again. My eyes remain closed, and I think of all that I need to do to re-route, re-discover, and remain close to the path, and which inner tools I need to find my way, ever more quickly. It is my special journey with my son, in a forest of miracles, wonder and surprise. I am right there with him. Rough. Soft. Forest.
Chana is a proud wife and mother of eight living in Mill Valley, California. She is inspired by the colors and textures of everyday life, and loves sharing her creative ideas with her community. Chana writes DIY projects, crafts and recipes celebrating her Jewish life and shlichus on her blog Chana’s Art Room, and is the co-director of Chabad of Mill Valley with her husband, Rabbi Hillel Scop. To read more about Chaim Boruch, and Chana’s journey, take a look at her personal special-needs blog, Life of Blessing.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Lifestyle
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What's summer without frozen desserts, like ice cream, sorbet or popsicles? These blueberry and Greek yogurt popsicles are deliciously cold, refreshing and healthier than most store-bought varieties. They're also incredibly easy to make.
 If you don't like blueberries, or they're not in season where you live, you can replace them with pretty much any other kind of berry. Pomegranate seeds would work well too. Simply cook the blueberries with the sugar, salt and lemon juice until they are nice and syrupy, and let the mixture cool to room temperature.  Layer the yogurt and blueberry mixture in the popsicle molds. You could also blend the yogurt and blueberry mixture together and use that to fill the molds, if you prefer.  I made 10 popsicles, but if you use smaller molds, you can definitely make more with this amount.  Put the molds in the freezer overnight until the popsicles are frozen through. Run warm water over the outside and gently ease the popsicles out of the mold. Eat and enjoy!  Ingredients:
Directions:
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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Jewish News
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Ever since Tami Sasporta moved from Israel to Accra, Ghana, 12 years ago —her husband, Shahar, is involved in road construction—she says Jewish communal life pretty much began and ended with the High Holidays and Passover.
“Each year, Chabad of Central Africa sent two young rabbis,” she explains. “They’d improvise a synagogue, spend a few days before the holiday meeting many Jews as possible, hold educational programs for the children, and then invite everyone for services and meals during the holiday itself.” For the rest of the year, the Sasportas and families of mostly Israeli expatriates living in the sub-Saharan nation were pretty much on their own Jewishly. She expects that to change, however, with the imminent arrival of Rabbi Noach and Alti Majesky and their three children, who will be leading a new Chabad center in what will be the latest branch of Chabad-Lubavitch of Central Africa, founded in 1991 by Rabbi Shlomo Bentolila of Kinshasa, Congo. In fact, Rabbi Majesky notes that many of the people he has met on two pilot trips there were on first name with Bentolila, even though the French-speaking rabbi rarely has time to visit Ghana in person. Based out of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Chabad-Lubavitch of Central Africa currently operates in 13 countries, including the Congo Republic, Nigeria, Ghana, Angola, Namibia, Gabon, Ivory Coast, Kenya, Uganda, Ethiopia, Mali and Senegal. “There is no doubt,” he says, “that the fact that we are able to open a Chabad center, and that the community is so supportive and receptive is due to the very strong connections that Rabbi Bentolila has established, both personally and through the ‘Roving Rabbis’ who have been coming throughout the decades.” 
The Majeskis offer education, classes, programs and services for all age groups.
‘A Positive Buzz’Majeski says neither he nor his wife—natives of Brooklyn, N.Y., and Paris, respectively—ever thought they would call an African nation with no more than several hundred Jewish souls home. But then, after a visit to the Ohel in Queens, N.Y.—the resting place of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—in which he prayed for direction, he suddenly got phone calls from a number of friends who had seen a notice on an message board for Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries that a position had opened up in a distant location. He soon discovered that location was Ghana.“I went to visit for Chanukah,” he says, “and I am still amazed by what I saw. There is a beautiful community of young families and singles—mostly from Israel, but also Americans and others—and they are just thirsting for Jewish communal life. “We had a kids’ program for the holiday, and 40 children attended. We then hosted over 100 people for a Chanukah party,” recalls the rabbi. The whole family flew in for Passover with 15 suitcases in tow. Three contained personal belongings; the rest were stuffed with matzah, wine and other Passover essentials. 
Rabbi Noach and Alti Majesky, and their three children
With just a few weeks left until their arrival in Africa, the rabbi says he and his wife are busy planning programs, fundraising, and taking care of the countless odds and ends that come with moving across the globe to a new nation. As for Sasporta, she and her fellow Israeli-Ghanaians are eagerly awaiting the Chabad family’s arrival. “There is no doubt that there is a positive buzz,” says the mother of three, who has raised her children in both Israel and Ghana. “My friends and I are looking forward to Jewish programs for ourselves and improved Jewish education for our children. And I know that some of the men are very excited about the prospect of having a synagogue—something we’ve never had before.” To help jump-start Chabad of Ghana, visit their page here. 
A CTeen barbecue event
Before bringing his family, Majeski and rabbinical students hosted a Chanukah party in Accra, meeting many community members.
Based out of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Chabad-Lubavitch of Central Africa currently operates in 13 countries, including the Congo Republic, Nigeria, Ghana, Angola, Namibia, Gabon, Ivory Coast, Kenya, Uganda, Ethiopia, Mali and Senegal. (Map: Google)
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Jewish News
Helping local Chabad emissaries spread a message of faith and hope | ||
As Greece faces closed banks, looming bankruptcy and possible expulsion from the Eurozone, Chabad has dispatched a pair of “Roving Rabbis” to bring hope, comfort and support to Jewish communities large and small.
According to Rabbi Mendel Hendel—co-director of Chabad Lubavitch of Athens, Greece, with his wife, Nechama—Mendel Tubul and Mendel Wolowik (ages 22 and 20, respectively) are currently combing the peninsula nation, bringing a Jewish message of hope to many amid what has become considerable concern and worry. Their extensive itinerary includes islands such as Crete, Rhodes and Corfu; and landlocked cities like Larissa, where they just spent two days meeting local Jews, many of whom are shop owners with stalled businesses right now. “People are not in total crisis here,” says the rabbi, who has called Greece home since 2001. “Yes, there are lines at the ATM machines as people try to get out their 60 euro maximums and the banks are closed, but people are not on the brink of starvation. “However,” he continues, “there is no doubt that people are worried. Locals and also tourists are just not sure what tomorrow will bring. They need a listening ear, a reassuring word and the knowledge that they are not alone as the world around them teeters on the edge of the abyss.” The young men will reach out to members of the community, often during one-on-one home visits, spending time with individuals and families, and talking and answering questions as they seek to reinvigorate people’s Jewish connections. 
Map of Greece (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)
“The very fact that we are here—as our predecessors have been for so many summers before us—tells them that some things remain the same, and that they are part of a Jewish community that cares about them,” says the rabbinic intern, who has previously served as a “Roving Rabbi” to Destin, Fla. Their next stop is Volos. The two plan to be in Greece until July 19. “Roving Rabbis” visit more than 100 countries around the globe and every state in the United States. This year, 350 Chabad-Lubavitch rabbinical students have been dispatched to Jewish communities in Asia, Europe, the Americas and beyond. 
The “Roving Rabbis” with a local resident in the synagogue of Larissa, which serves a community that has been in place for more than 2,000 years.
Even in uncertain times, Larissa small-business owners gladly took time out to wrap tefillin and pray.
The two young men will be in Greece until July 19, visiting Jewish residents there.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Jewish News
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This is the second in a series of articles on the unique lives of Chabad-Lubavitch yeshivah students. A series featuring the lives of female students is in the works as well.
Young men in yeshivah likely reach tens of thousands of people around the world—local residents and business people they regularly visit on Fridays after their studies are done and before Shabbat starts, offering Jewish practice and knowledge. But as they get older, their work can also bring them to other, more remote places—physically and spiritually. With summer in full swing, many of the more senior students are on the go, adding to the miles of travel they have already accumulated. Mendel Marasow, for example, has been all over the world. The 24-year-old rabbinical student from Montreal spent time in Kenya last fall for part of the High Holidays. He has also traveled to Columbia, Peru, Argentina, the ABC Islands in the Caribbean, Greece and Germany. “Throughout the year, we study a full day,” he says. “When the yeshivah closes during the holidays, some boys choose to go home, and some go to other communities that don’t have a rabbi and could use the help.” Such is the case in Nairobi, the capital and largest city in Kenya. The local Jewish community boasts a more than 100-year-old synagogue—the Hebrew Congregation of Nairobi—but no rabbi to lead it. “It’s very difficult to live in Africa as a Jew,” says Marasow. “Things we have in North America, like basic security, they have a compound surrounded by live wire.” 
Marasow, originally from Montreal, at Multnomah Falls on in Oregon
About 150 Israelis come for business throughout the year, and a handful of large Israeli companies are headquartered there. Another 120 or so local Jewish people reside there year-round. “The people are really looking for Judaism,” attests Marasow. “In America, you don’t feel so isolated, but in Africa, you really don’t associate with the people around you. They are different—different foods, different value system, different lifestyles.” And yet, he marvels, “it’s actually harder to lose your identity as a Jew in Africa than it is in America.” Even though the synagogue has a compound and is surrounded with guards (and he and the other students had a security guard at the beginning of their stay), Marasow felt he didn’t need one. Africa, he states, is not as intimidating as people often believe: “It’s a very nice community. The Jewish community gets along very well with the local people.” 
The flier Marasow used last fall in Kenya to invite people to a Simchat Torah celebration
“The Rebbe [Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory] knew that some people are more into study, and some more into getting out [and about]. The Rebbe demanded 100 percent devotion. We should do both properly,” he explains. “Even though a yeshivah bochur is someone who learns, we should also go out into the world. That can be a different way of learning. “Studying Torah is very important. Going out and giving back to the world is also important. They don’t contradict each other.” Recently married, he is spending the summer with his wife in Crown Heights, learning part-time in a Chabad House on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. 
An exterior view of the Hebrew Congregation of Nairobi, established in 1913
‘Inspiration From Deep Inside’Dovid Lew, 22, just obtained his semichah (rabbinical ordination); up until that point, he was immersed doing outreach in South Palm Beach, Fla.Fridays meant going out to the nearby streets of downtown Lake Worth, asking people if they’re Jewish—wrapping tefillin on men and giving out Shabbat candles to women. He continues to make connections and forms relationships, and lets people know about the local Chabad. Lew, who grew up in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., has traveled to San Diego doing mitzvah work and up the West Coast to San Francisco; Portland, Ore.; and Seattle. He also spent a year in Paris on shlichus and has been all over New York, New Jersey and Connecticut helping Chabad emissaries. 
Dovid Lew, right, with his friend Menachem Rosenthal, left, and a banker named Aaron; they visited him each Friday in Lake Worth, Fla.
He is spending this summer in Israel, learning with and helping people at a yeshivah for baalei teshuva (“returnees to the faith”) in Safed. Lew plays the piano and the Native American flute, a hand-crafted wooden instrument. He taught himself to play both instruments, and occasionally shares his musical talents in the community during events. He sings as well. “The Rebbe said a person cannot be Jewish by himself,” he explains. “Having a relationship with G-d can’t just be about me and G-d. I cannot be whole unless I’m helping other people be close to G-d. “I see that in myself,” he continues. “When I teach something, I get a better grasp of it. When I’m out talking to people, inspiration comes from deep inside me, and what I learn becomes more meaningful when I’m helping others.” 
Lew, a native of Brooklyn, N.Y., with Mrs. Wechsler at Purim time. They met in Florida, where he discovered that she grew up in Montreal on the same street as his grandmother.
As Lew believes, “You cannot have one without the other two. If you’re lacking, however, and you work on the love of other Jews, you’ll get the other two. Helping people has to be a priority.” 
Lew and Rosenthal hand out boxes of shmurah matzah for Passover on the streets of Lake Worth.
A flier for a post-Shabbat event organized by Lew, who recently received his rabbinical ordination.
Lew taught himself to play the Native American flute, a hand-crafted wooden instrument he sometimes shares at events.
Other Jewish musicians at a Florida kumzitz that wound up moving indoors due to the weather.
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Jewish News
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With more than 3,000 young Jewish families living in the Stamford Hill neighborhood in London, it’s no surprise that quality preschool programs are in great demand. Since opening six years ago, the Lubavitch Children’s Centre has been leading the way with an educational program that is getting noticed by the community.
To that end, director Devorah Leah Sudak has begun providing guidance and training to educators from other Chassidic groups looking to enhance their own educational programs, including the Belz, Satmar and Vizhnitz communities. And she’s using teachings from the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—to do so. “Lubavitch has two preschools in Stamford Hill that are very well-attended by children from the local communities,” says Sudak. “We run a high-quality preschool—one that meets all the legislative guidelines and maintains high levels of Yiddishkeit.” Still, they wanted to take that to another level. Explains Sudak: “We wanted to actively share our good practices with leading professionals working in the local nursery schools in order to raise the quality of early-years education, so that more children can benefit from a better start in life.” After applying for, and receiving, a grant from the local neighborhood council to conduct training for preschool directors, Sudak had enough funding to purchase a guidebook to accompany the class. She chose The Educator’s Handbook by Rabbi Chaim Mordechai Aizik Hodakov, the Rebbe’s chief of staff for more than 40 years. He was also heavily involved in education, working as the head of Jewish education in Latvia back in the early 1900s. The book contains ideas and thoughts from the Rebbe on teaching, working with students, and describing the role and responsibility of an educator. “I always try and infuse Yiddishkeitinto my training programs,” says Sudak. “The Educator’s Handbook is a book we refer to for [guidance] on education that’s in line with our ethos. Therefore, we felt it was appropriate to hand it out to all participants.” She started the training session by introducing the book, mentioning how it first came about and including the involvement of her late father-in-law, Rabbi Nachman Sudak, who had personally received much of guidance mentioned in the book. The late Rabbi Sudak was a longtime leader of the Chabad-Lubavitch community in London; he passed away last year. 
The Lubavitch Children’s Centre in the Stamford Hill neighborhood of London.
‘Joined as One’As part of the curriculum, each participant read a different chapter of the book and shared what they learned with the rest of the group. The result? Sudak reports that some very lively discussions took place on the role of educators in a child’s life, different modes of learning and more.Rabbi Hodakov’s words on Ahavat Yisroel (“love a fellow Jew”) proved a particularly meaningful topic for some. As one participant said: “We have a duty to love our neighbors, co-workers, parents—and, of course, the children who have been entrusted to our care—as we would like to be loved.” The educator further noted that, as Hodakov discusses, the Tanya—the seminal early work of Chassidic philosophy by Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of Chabad Chassidism—describes that there is no “I” or “You,” but instead, “we are all joined together as one. … Whichever age we are in charge of, we must bring the message of Ahavat Yisroel into all our activities.” In addition to the Tanya reference, what everyone found remarkable, according to Sudak, was how the information in the handbook—written decades earlier—remains so highly relevant today: “It was most interesting to note how the guidelines mentioned in the book are very much in line with the current national educational framework.” As one of the preschool directors, who also preferred anonymity, summed up: “The Educator’s Handbook was very informative and relevant to my everyday practice. I will use it to reflect on my own work and refer to it when dealing with staff, children and parents.”
© Copyright 2015, all rights reserved.
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Chabad.org Magazine - Editor: Yanki Tauber
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