"Now on Jewish.TV: Parshah Mnemonics: Vayikra: Decoding the Hidden Messages - Aaron L. Raskin" Jewish.TV - Chabad.org Video of New York, New York, United States for Tuesday, 15 March 2016

 "Now on Jewish.TV: Parshah Mnemonics: Vayikra: Decoding the Hidden Messages - Aaron L. Raskin" Jewish.TV - Chabad.org Video of New York, New York, United States for Tuesday, 15 March 2016

Parshah Mnemonics: Vayikra
Decoding the hidden messages
Aaron L. Raskin

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This webcast begins:
Tuesday, March 15, 2016 at 8pm ET
About this webcast:
The parshah of Vayikra contains 111 verses and the mnemonic for it are the words D’u’el and Tzivah. Explore the coded message in this Masoretic note and its connection to the general themes of the Parshah.
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"Is Judaism Capitalist or Socialist?" Chabad Magazine of New York, New York, United States for Wednesday, Adar I 29, 5776 · 9 March 2016

Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
A fascinating piece of news you may have missed: Two tiny stone seals dating back to the First Temple period have been recovered in Jerusalem. What makes the discovery all the more remarkable is the fact that one of the 2,500-year-old seals belonged to a woman, Elihana bat Gael, who apparently did enough business that she needed a seal with her name to sign documents and authorize instructions.
In her wildest dreams, I doubt Elihana could have imagined that the descendants of her people would one day find her signet and wonder about her life. But then, there’s little about the Jewish people that could have been predicted.
Since Elihana’s days, we have survived Sennacherib and the Assyrians, Nebuchadnezzar and the Babylonians, Antiochus and the Greeks, Titus and the Romans, Count Emicho and the Crusaders,Torquemada and the inquisitors, Chmielnicki and the Cossacks, and, most recently, Hitler and the Nazis.
This coming month we celebrate Purim, when we were miraculously saved from Haman and his evil plot to destroy the Jewish people. Let us take a moment to recognize the many, many times that G‑d has saved us from evil, and thank Him for His continued care and love.
Menachem Posner,
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team

The World at Your Feet
Why are the lives of the sages filled with miracles?
Because they open their minds to truth and labor over it day and night. They are the awakened mind of the cosmos—through them the Infinite Light enters this world.
So, of course, nature bows to them, the angels wait upon them, and everything is arranged to serve their mission.
And so it is with any one of us who seeks the truth and clings to it with heart and soul.
This Week's Features:

Printable Magazine

Two Terror Heroes Who Didn’t Mind Their Own Business
By Mendy Kaminker Two Terror Heroes Who Didn’t Mind Their Own Business by Mendy Kaminker

This guitar was used to help thwart a Palestinian terrorist in Jaffa. (Photo: Tomer Neuberg/Flash90)
One young man was just sitting on a bench on the promenade near the Mediterranean sea in Jaffa, playing his guitar. Suddenly, he “heard screams and the sounds of chaos.” Seeing what could only be a terrorist running towards him, he jumped up onto the bench, lifted his guitar and began to beat the terrorist with it until police officers arrived and shot the terrorist dead.
Earlier that day, a second young man was in the Petach Tikvah shuk—a bustling open-air market—when out of nowhere he felt someone jump on him and felt a sharp pain in his neck. Within seconds he realized he was the victim of a terrorist stabbing attack. “I told myself I had to fight him,” he later said. So he pulled the knife from his own throat and stabbed the terrorist with it, killing him instead.
Who knows how many lives were saved thanks to their bravery?
There is much to learn from them and from countless other heroes—and not only in cases of attacks, G‑d forbid. Here were two men who could have focused only on themselves, thinking about what they did not have or could not do to help others in the current situation. Instead, they chose to act, despite the difficulties. No one would have made any judgments if one had decided to lie on the sidewalk in pain and wait for an ambulance. And there would not have been a shred of criticism if the other had said, “I ran for my life; what else could I do? I only had a guitar—no weapon or anything like that.” But one ignored his personal injury, and the other did not give a thought to what he had in hand.
What they both had was a courageous determination to do something. And both saved lives.
I hope that there will never again be such attacks, and that there will never again be a need to see such heroism. But even if with G‑d’s help there are no more, there is still a lesson in the spiritual sphere that we can learn from these brave men. We all need to help each other—physically and spiritually, both in general and especially during a crisis.
But it is so very easy to evade these responsibilities by saying: “How can I influence someone else if I’m not perfect myself? How can I help others if I’m ‘wounded’ spiritually? How can I inspire others if I don’t have the weapons—I’m not a scholar or articulate or a natural teacher or talented in some special way?
These two young men showed us that no matter what we have or do not have, the most important thing is a willingness and readiness to act.
With that willingness, we will experience the blessings and help of G‑d wherever we turn.
YOUR QUESTIONS

Is Judaism Socialist or Capitalist?
What exactly is our ideal society? by Tzvi Freeman
Dear Ask-the-Rabbi Rabbi,
With the current presidential elections in the U.S., there’s been a lot of debate about Judaism, socialism and capitalism, since one of the candidates—the Jewish one—identifies himself as a “democratic socialist.” Some Jewish voters are claiming socialism is not Jewish, while plenty of others associate their socialism with their Judaism and vice versa.
What do you say? Is Judaism socialist or capitalist?[Sandy Bernard]
Hi Sandy,
The obvious answer is yes.
If you think rabbis can’t agree on anything, you ought to listen to economists arguing. Both capitalism and socialism come in more flavors than Starbucks can serve coffee and tea—with the distinction that nobody quibbles over which cup is coffee and which is tea. But economists—they’re the guys sitting there in Starbucks arguing whether the cup from which they’re sipping contains a socialist tea or a capitalist coffee.
So let’s deal with just two major areas which socialists and capitalists generally perceive quite differently. One is ownership of property (who owns what I got). The other is the right of the state to redistribute wealth (government as the grand steamroller). We’ll start by looking at two cases that deal respectively with these two issues.
The Vineyard Case
If you want a great demonstration of the right to individual property in Torah, read the biblical story of the vineyard of Naboth. On the other hand, if you want a clear picture of the origin of the socialist idea in Europe, read the story of the vineyard of Naboth.
King Ahab, the wickedest king of Israel ever, had seen the vineyard of a simple citizen named Naboth and desired it. When he offered to purchase it, Naboth replied, “G‑d forbid that I should surrender to you land which has always been in my family.”1
What does Ahab do? He returns to his palace, lies in his bed and cries. I mean, he’s wicked, but he’s still Jewish, and Naboth is right. When the children of Israel had entered the land with Joshua, they had divvied it up in equal portions, rendering all Israelites landed and equal citizens—as G‑d had prescribed through Moses. You couldn’t sell a parcel of land—you could only lease it until the Jubilee year, which came once in 50 years.
Meanwhile, Jezebel, Ahab’s non-Jewish wife, can’t figure out what’s going on here. Why doesn’t he just man up like any real king, kill the peon for his insolence and take his field?
Fettered as she is by these ludicrous Jews she has come to live amongst, yet driven by loyalty to her husband’s desires, Jezebel conceives a plan, hiring witnesses to testify falsely against Naboth as a blasphemer so that he can be executed and his land confiscated. After Ahab’s followed his wife’s instructions, Elijah the prophet famously rebuked him, “So says G‑d: You have killed, and you have also taken possession!?”2
So here you see that in biblical law your property is your property—because it can’t be taken from you. And yet it’s not your property—because you can’t give it away.
How could both be true? Quite simply, as the Torah itself explains, “because the land belongs to G‑d.” Meaning that Torah can grant you ownership of your property because it’s not yours. There is a third party involved, one who is not a member of society, who neither benefits or loses through any transaction, and is concerned only that justice reign—and that is G‑d, and He owns everything.3
Is the Hebrew Bible a Socialist Doctrine?

James Harrington
What does this have to do with socialism? Everything. What was once the textbook version of history tells us that the socialist idea arose in France and England in the 19th century. But in his recent groundbreaking work The Hebrew Republic, Eric Nelson, noted American historian and professor of government at Harvard, traces the idea back to an influential 17th-century work of an Englishman named James Harrington, The Commonwealth of Oceana. He was the one to first advocate the idea of fair redistribution of wealth—basically, that the government could and should take from the rich to give to the poor in order to maintain a balance of wealth in society.
So where did Harrington get it from? The institution of the Jubilee year. In Harrington’s understanding, the point behind this return of land was to maintain a balanced, if not perfectly equal, distribution of wealth. And since this law was “made by an infallible legislator, even G‑d Himself,” it must be applicable to all nations at all times.
Neither the Jubilee year nor any similar form of redistribution of property was instituted in Europe. But once the idea that the republic had the right and responsibility to redistribute wealth had leaped out of the box, thinkers from Montesquieu to Rousseau, Jefferson to Tocqueville, could play with it, Saint-Simon could give it the name “socialism,” and Karl Marx could take it to its most extreme extent—once entirely uprooted from its biblical origins.
European socialism did not originate in Roman or Greek jurisprudence, nor did it arise out of “pure reason” of 19th-century political thinkers. The roots of socialism are firmly grounded in a Torah institution. But ironically, it was the same Torah institution that guaranteed each individual inalienable rights to his property.
If you want an idea of how central a theme that concept of property is in Torah, you need only turn to the very first verse, “In the beginning, G‑d created the heavens and the earth.”
And if you want an idea of how central fair distribution of property is in Torah, you need only turn to the very same verse again.
Why does the Torah begin with the story of creation and of humankind, rather than simply presenting the dos and don’ts? Rashi, the most classic of Torah commentators, explains: To tell you that the earth belongs to G‑d. He gives it to whoever He finds fit to give it to, and takes it from them and gives it to others when He finds that fit.
You own your property—not by Divine right, but by Divine lease.
The Case of the Tall Date Palm
Now let’s talk about giving to those less fortunate. If you ask a capitalist, “Do I have to provide for those less fortunate?” he will likely exclaim, “Of course not! I mean, it’s a nice thing to do, but hey, it’s your hard-earned money, right?”
Yes. And no.
Because, although it’s the job of the Creator and Manager of the Universe to give to whoever so deserves, G‑d quite often leaves the act of justice in our hands, so that we will have a partnership in this act of property distribution. Which means that we own property in order that we can distribute it justly. And, in fact, in the Hebrew language, there is no distinction between charity and justice. In Greek and Latin, they are two distinct entities. In Hebrew, justice is tzedek and charity is tzedakah—two forms of the same verb.
Which means that charity is not a nice thing to do. Charity is an obligatorything to do.
Here’s a vivid example: Let’s say you’re a farmer (for most of history, most of us were farmers). You have a nice plot of land growing crops. Do they belong to you?
Again: Yes and no.
No, because some of those crops belong to the priestly class (who don’t have any fields, just houses in cities), and some belongs to people who are too poor to feed themselves. Yet it’s left up to you to distribute those crops as they should be distributed. Whatever is left, you get to keep.

For example: Joe the farmer has an orchard of date palms. As prescribed by Torah, he has put aside dates of a tall palm for the poor.
Now ten poor people are standing around this tall and slender date palm, staring way up at the dates above.
“Let’s go for them!” one says.
“Race you to the top!” says another.
“Too dangerous,” says another.
“But they’re ours for the picking!” says yet another.
“Not quite,” an erudite poor person explains (indeed, many of the most important scholars and lawmakers of Israel were exceedingly poor). “It’s the owner’s obligation to give them to us. And we don’t have to risk our lives to climb up there and get them.”
So they call the owner, who dutifully must ascend the tree and distribute its dates to the poor.
And get this: Even if nine of the ten—or 99 out of 100—are ready to forgo their rights and climb the tree themselves, as long as there’s one who says, “Nope, too dangerous. You gotta go up there!” we listen to the one dissenter. Because that’s the law: It’s the owner’s obligation to ensure these dates get to their proper owners—namely, whichever poor people come for them.4
More Jewish Socialism
There are many more such examples. In Jewish law, if a person is starving, he is permitted to take the food of another person—since that person has an obligation to provide the starving person food. If you see the other guy’s property being destroyed, you are obligated to do what you can to prevent the destruction. Again: it’s not a nice thing to do. It’s an obligation.
In actual practice, such has been the practice of Jews from biblical times to the present day. In the fourth century, when the Roman emperor Julian ordered the setting up of hostels for transients in every city, he referred to the example of the Jews “in whose midst no stranger goes uncared for.” Historical records from every era, wherever there were Jews, provide long lists of societies—free loan funds, soup kitchens, wedding funds, widow funds, orphan care, new mother care, free education and much more. There wasn’t a Jew who wasn’t either giving or getting—and often both.

Maimonides, the great codifier, wrote in the 12th century that every Jewish community must have two funds for the poor: One, called the kupah, an obligatory fund supported by every member according to their means; the other, called tamchui, to collect food and other items from those who gave voluntarily. “We have never seen nor heard,” he writes, “of a Jewish community that does not have a kupah for charity.”5
But what’s important to note is even with the presence of the voluntary kupah, according to all codifiers of Jewish law the “state”—in the form of the community’s popularly appointed beit din—had the right and obligation to enforce involuntary giving and taxation in order to help the destitute in their community, and even in other communities as well. Coercion was rarely necessary—and we’ll discuss why later. But it was certainly was practiced.
As for the prevalent capitalist view, it’s ironic that the father of the libertarian idea, John Locke himself, wrote otherwise:
But we know that G‑d hath not left one man so to the mercy of another that he may starve him if he please. G‑d, the L‑rd and Father of all, has given no one of His children such a property, in His peculiar portion of the things of this world, but that he has given his needy brother a right to the surplusage of his goods, so that it cannot justly be denied him when his pressing wants call for it.6
In other words, Locke, to whom we most owe the idea that each man has a natural right to life, liberty and property, also gave your “needy brother” the right to your surplus of goods—not out of your mercy, but by justice. Whose justice? The justice of the same One who provided you with those goods to begin with.

John Locke
Fascinating: Scholars search for a source in the Christian Bible for Locke’s contention. In a fascinating article entitled Locke and Political Hebraism, Fania Oz-Salzberger dismisses their search as futile. “Only the Hebrew Bible . . . ,” she writes, “could support this legalist, non-voluntary approach to the relationship between the wealthy and the starving, thanks to its unique model of an altruistic community rooted in law.”7
Serfdom & Freedom
There are many more such examples. Professor Yehudah Levi’s essay “Is the Torah Capitalistic or Socialistic”8 and his sequel to that, “The Right to Private Property,”9 examines the question through the lens of halachah, focused primarily on tax laws. His conclusion? “Judaism is capitalism with a socialist spirit.”
Now, that may sound peculiar. Because in most people’s minds today, capitalism and socialism are two extremes of a long pole—and you can’t hold onto both ends at once. Most of us understand the issue to be all about “Who owns what I got?” Capitalism means I own what I got (taxes being a kind of membership dues in return for fair benefits). Socialism means society (i.e., government) owns all I got—just that they’re gracious enough to let me keep some of it.
In the Mishnah, there’s a description of just that. That concept of capitalism is called “What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours.” And that concept of socialism is called “What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.”
So how do you create an elegant harmony from two such conflicting statements?
And the answer is that you can’t. As long as you are looking from the frame of reference of “what do I own?” capitalism or socialism remain two opposite worlds. Furthermore, neither of them provides a sustainable framework for society. In fact, in the Hebrew language, there is no verb “to own.” You can be the master (baal) of a property, or take possession of it, but none of these terms imply absolute ownership.
Whose frame of reference is “what do I own?” It’s that of a freed serf. That’s where these conceptions were born—from the liberation of the serfs and working class in 17th–19th century Europe. They may have thrown the shackles off their arms and legs, but they failed to remove them from their minds. They remained obsessed with rights, because they began as slaves. They remained obsessed with taxes, because that’s what governments seem to be all about—if property was to be distributed fairly, it had to be the government that would confiscate and distribute it.
In the mind of the freed serf, whatever solution could come about had to come from the top down—meaning, government—because that lordly power loomed so large in the background of all their thinking that they simply could not imagine reality without it.
In The Road to Serfdom, Friedrich Hayek saw the rise of socialism, Nazism and fascism in 20th-century Europe as just that: a regression. The serfs were demanding, “Please re-enslave us!” Socialism was, and remains, another form of shirking responsibility, by handing all responsibility back to a bloated government. Socialism, in most of its forms, attempts the absurd: to liberate people by divesting them of their responsibilities and the power to run their own lives.

The Responsible Society
Shift now to Sinai. The people are free. Their taskmasters have been dumped in the sea and washed ashore. Now they have to form a society. How is it formed? Through a covenant between the people—each and every individual—and the one G‑d to whom each is accountable for his or her actions.
That’s why there’s no talk of rights in the Torah. Everyone, by default, has all the rights of the first human being ever created. Rather, Torah speaks of responsibilities.
The taxes that the Torah speaks of are the responsibility of the individual—to provide for the poor, the Levite, the orphan and the widow. Sure, if you don’t give what you are supposed to give, the court can come and confiscate it from you—but that’s not the default. The default is you, as a private individual, giving the prescribed amount—and a little more–of your own volition.
As for government, the Torah gives it relatively little significance. Yes, the rabbis instituted takkanot ha-shuk—price ceilings, measures to keep staple foods at reasonable prices—and penalized those who failed to provide their fair share for the poor. The court sat in the marketplace judging case by case to keep law in order. But those were supplementary measures.
Clear evidence: Anyone who has studied the monetary laws of the Talmud is struck by the prominent place of the oath in this system. Without the institution of the oath, the entire judicial system of monetary law crumbles to pieces. Every piece of it is built on an assumption that the great majority of citizens—no matter how great a financial loss is as stake—would not be able to hold a Torah scroll and make a statement before a Jewish court that is blatantly false. This is an assumption that relies heavily on the moral education of the people. And that is just the point: A society can be fair, just and ethical only when the populous receive an ethical education.
That explains why the Torah is obsessed not with government, but with another institution—its primary institution, because it truly is the primary institution of any free society. And that is the moral and ethical education of its citizens, by its citizens. Because authentic education—turning out responsible and sensitive citizens who are inspired to social justice—is inherently a bottom-up, grassroots project, and the only path to a just and fair society is from the bottom up.

Jews do not call the founder of their society “Moses the Lawgiver” or “Moses the Governor,” but “Moses, our teacher.” What other nation was formed by a man who is called “our teacher”?
And who were the men who forged the law of Torah into a code to function throughout the ages, who legislated its application in everyday life? The rabbis of the Mishnah and the Talmud were not a ruling class, but by and large men who tilled their own fields, pruned their own vineyards or were occupied in some craft or trade. They were of the people themselves.
When we shift the historical paradigm from slaves throwing off their shackles to free people forming a society, we also shift the engine of this society from governance to education. But that also requires shifting our understanding of capitalism and socialism—to frame it not in terms of ownership, but rather in terms of our responsibilities to one another and the betterment of society.
In those terms, put it like this: Capitalism is the idea that people can work together to create and increase value. Socialism is the idea that the more we share that value, the more we create. No conflict. Just harmony.
Getting Practical
For a society to be just and its citizens to be free, education has to go beyond ABC and 123—beyond treating human beings as brains transported by bodies. Education under an oppressive regime inculcates pupils with duty to the motherland and crushes any sense of individuality. Education for freedom and justice must focus on turning out kids with sensitivity, responsibility and accountability—sensitivity to the needs of others, responsibility to their society and accountability for their actions.
It’s that last one—accountability—that’s the clincher. Without it, the other two crumble. Rabbi Menachem Meiri, a halachic authority of the 13th century, made this very clear when he described idolaters as “godless people” unrestrained from any evil. In his mind, idolatry was not a matter of how many gods you believed in, or what you believed about those gods. It was a matter of having no authority, no moral accounting. Christians who believe in the trinity, Rabbi Meiri writes, do not fall in this class. Whatever it is that they believe, their religion holds them accountable to a Higher Authority for their actions.
The Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory, gave that sentiment a very practical application in our times, insisting on the vital need that the children in the public schools should be allowed to begin their day at school with the recitation of a nondenominational prayer, acknowledging the existence of a Creator and Master of the Universe and our dependence upon Him. In my opinion, this acknowledgment is absolutely necessary in order to impress upon the minds of our growing-up generation that the world in which they live is not a jungle, where brute force, cunning and unbridled passion rule supreme, but that it has a Master Who is not an abstraction, but a personal G‑d; that this Supreme Being takes a “personal interest” in the affairs of each and every individual, and to Him everyone is accountable for one’s daily conduct.
Or, to quote one the most significant of the early architects of the modern free state and the fathers of enlightenment, John Locke:
If man were independent, he could have no law but his own will, no end but himself. He would be a god to himself, and the satisfaction of his own will [would be] the whole measure and end of all his actions.10
Sensitivity and responsibility are wonderful character traits. But you remain your own god. You—or your society—are left to determine just whom you should be sensitive to, and whom not; what are your responsibilities, and what are not. And the coin is always going to flip to the side that provides greatest convenience and satisfaction.
Just like “G‑dless socialism,” so too “G‑dless capitalism” runs amok, as each man is for himself and those with more power and smarts rip off the little guy by whatever means they can. Only through accountability to a higher power do human beings transcend their own prison of self—and become capable of forming a global society where the measure of all actions is our responsibility to one another.11
The earth and all that it contains—and whatever we produce from it—belongs neither to you or to me. It belongs to the One who created it. We are planted here “to work it and to protect it.” We are its stewards. All of us, as one. That is what we much teach our children, and they will have a bright future indeed.
Ultimately, the ideal of Torah, the messianic era, is a kind of socialist anarchy, where there is no need for governance because everyone is enlightened, even wolves keep their paws off the lambs, and the monarch’s role is to provide yet greater wisdom. May that time become real much sooner than we can imagine.
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FOOTNOTES
1.I Kings 21:3.
2.I Kings 21:19.
3.For an in-depth discussion of the revolutionary impact the agrarian laws of the Bible had on 17th-century thought, see Eric Nelson, The Hebrew Republic (Harvard University Press, 2010), ch. 2.
4.Mishneh Torah, Hil. Matnot Aniyim 2:16.
5.Mishneh Torah, Hil. Matnot Aniyim 9:1–3.
6.John Locke, First Treatise §42.
7.Fania Oz-Salzberger, “The Political Thought of John Locke and the Significance of Political Hebraism,” in Gordon Schochet, Fania Oz-Salzberger and Meirav Jones, eds., Political Hebraism (Shalem Press, 2008), p. 248.
8.B’Or HaTorah 8 (2013): 113–119.
9.B’Or HaTorah 9 (1995): 83–87.
10.This is from a handwritten note (Bodleian Library MS, Locke c. 28, fol. 141), quoted in John Dunn, Political Thought of John Locke (Cambridge University Press, 1969), p. 1.
11.Yes, I know I will be receiving plenty of reader comments noting that religion has been responsible for the perpetration of some of the worst crimes against humanity (although not as criminal as those perpetrated by the secular ideologies of the 20th century). My response is that, religion—perhaps. G‑d—no. As evidence, see the study performed by one of the foremost experts in terrorism, director of ARTIS research Scott Atran: Jeremy Ginges, Hammad Sheikh, Scott Atran and Nichole Argo, “Thinking from God’s perspective decreases biased valuation of the life of a nonbeliever” (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 113, no. 2 (12 January 2016): 316–319.

My Mom Has Lost Her Will to Live
I know she would not kill herself, but she hasn't been taking care of her health . . . by Aron Moss
Question:
My mother told me that she has lost her will to live, that she sees no sense in it anymore. I know she would not kill herself, but she hasn’t been taking care of her health, which is a way of dying slowly. I don’t want her to feel that way, but I don’t know how to help. Do you have any suggestions?
Answer:
While I don’t know your mother and I don’t know the circumstances that have led to her despair, here are some thoughts.We all need a reason to live
We all need a reason to live. We all need to feel needed. We all need to have a sense of purpose. Having a purpose is far more important than having money or a comfortable life. It is even more important than our health. A life that is healthy but purposeless is like a blunt pencil. It has no point.
Purpose comes from serving others. When we know that we are giving, that we are contributing to the world, that we can make other people happy and help make their lives better, then life is worth living because we feel we need to be here.
Perhaps your mother already does a lot for others. Make sure she knows about it, that she feels appreciated. And if she isn’t currently doing anything purposeful with her life, then you need to find avenues for her to be productive. Think of something that she is able to do to serve others, and if that need doesn’t exist yet, create it.
If she is good with kids, give her more responsibility to look after kids. If she can drive a car, find an organization that needs volunteer drivers. If she can paint, let her share her talent in a way that helps other people. It is not enough for her to just indulge in painting. Perhaps she can donate her work to charity.One thing she does have is time
Maybe she doesn’t have any of those skills. But one thing she does have is time. And that she can give. Find people with more serious health problems than hers, find people who are even more lonely than she is. If she gives of her time to others—even just to bewith them—she will very quickly find a reason to live.
Note: Mental illness and certain emotional issues must be addressed by a qualified professional.

Why Is Tachanun Longer on Mondays and Thursdays?
There are many fascinating accounts of the origin of this prayer. by Yehuda Shurpin
Question:
Why is Tachanun (penitential prayers) longer on Mondays and Thursdays? I always assumed that it had something to do with the fact that the Torah is read on Mondays and Thursdays, but recently a friend told me that they aren’t related. What’s the deal?
Reply:
The Midrash relates that it was on a Thursday that G‑d told Moses to ascend Mount Sinai to receive the second set of tablets after the sin of the golden calf. Forty days later, on a Monday, Moses finally descended the mountain with the new tablets, signifying that G‑d had forgiven His nation.
As a result, Mondays and Thursdays are considered especially auspicious days to find Divine favor, and have been set aside as special days of repentance.1
On a seemingly opposite note, others explain that the reason for the extra penitence on Mondays and Thursdays is because the rabbinical courts—as well as the heavenly tribunals—are traditionally in session on these days.2Since we are being judged, extra supplications are in order.3 Appropriately, since ancient times, pious people have had the custom to fast on these days as well.4
In truth, these two explanations need not contradict each other, for G‑d may sit in judgment specifically at a time of Divine mercy.5
Shipwreck!
There are many fascinating accounts of the origin of this prayer, which is made up of three parts and begins with the words Vehu rachum, “And He is merciful.” Here are two of the most common narratives:
Rabbi Elazar ben Yehudah (1160–1238), famed author of the Sefer Rokeach, records that he found the following story in a responsum from the Geonic period (approx. 589–1038):6 After the destruction of the Second Holy Temple,Vespasian placed a number of Jews on three ships with neither captains nor rudders. The ships thus began to drift helplessly. Divine Providence, however, saved the ships from being smashed by cliffs and storms. Each ship eventually landed in a different city in France: Leiden, Orlado and Bordils.7 At first the poor refugees who reached Bordils were kindly received by the governor of the province, and were given land and vineyards as a means of livelihood.
When the governor died, his successor proved a cruel man. He robbed the refugees of whatever they had received and threatened to drive them out. The Jews began to fast and pray to G‑d for salvation. It was then that three pious leaders of the community, two of them brothers by the names of Joseph andBenjamin, and the third a cousin named Samuel, composed these prayers.
Joseph wrote the first part, until the words כי אל מלך חנון ורחום אתה—“For You are a gracious and merciful king.” Binyamin continued until אין כמוך—“There is none gracious and compassionate like You.” And their cousin Shmuelcompleted it, ending with the words שמע ישראל—“Hear, O Israel . . .”8
After G‑d miraculously rescued them from their fate, the three decided to transcribe this prayer, and sent copies to many Jewish communities, urging them to make it part of their regular Monday and Thursday prayers.
And so, concludes the Rokeach, we also hope and pray that just as G‑d saved them in their time of need, He will similarly deliver us from all our troubles.
Through Water and Fire
Perhaps a more common version of the story is found in Kol Bo, a 14th-century work on Jewish ritual and civil laws:9
A boatload of Jews fleeing the Roman destruction of Judea came upon a land. After asking about the identity of the passengers, and hearing their claim that they were Jews fleeing the destruction of Jerusalem, the ruler said he wished to test them, just as Chananyah, Mishael and Azaryah were tested byNebuchadnezzar. He decreed that they be thrown into a fiery furnace to see if they too would be saved.
The Jews requested, and were granted, 30 days to prepare for their fate. Before the 30 days were up, a pious but unlearned old Jew said that he dreamed of a verse containing the word ki (“when”) twice and the word lo(“not”) three times, but he could not remember what it was.
One of the wise men stepped forward and declared that no doubt it was this verse in Isaiah: “When you pass through water, I am with you, and in rivers, they shall not overflow you; when you go amidst fire, you shall not be burnt, and a flame shall not burn amongst you.”10 This, he declared, was no doubt a sign from heaven that just as they had been saved from the sea, so too they would be saved from fire.
When 30 days were up, a large pyre was built, and the old man who had the dream was the first to be thrown into the flames. The fire miraculously separated into three fires, with the form of a righteous individual appearing in each of the fires (perhaps Chananyah, Mishael and Azaryah) to greet the old man. The three then started reciting the Vehu Rachum prayer. The first recited the prayer until the paragraph that opens with the words אנא מלך—“We beseech You, gracious and merciful king.” The second continued with that paragraph. The third one completed the prayer, from the paragraph of אין כמוך—“There is none gracious and compassionate like You”—until the end of the prayer, which concludes with the words שמע ישראל—“Hear, O Israel . . .”
It was then established to recite these prayers every Monday and Thursday, as they are days of judgment.
Due to the importance of this prayer, it is ideally recited while standing.11 The rabbis say that whoever recites this prayer with heartfelt intention will surely be answered.12
A Prayer from King Hezekiah
Immediately after the Vehu Rachum prayer, we say a series of prayers starting with the words “L‑rd, G‑d of Israel, turn from Your fierce anger and renounce the thought of bringing evil upon Your people.” While this prayer is often mistakenly thought to be part of the actual Vehu Rachum prayer, it is in fact much older, and is said to have been composed by King Hezekiah as the Assyrian armies, led by King Sennacherib, laid siege to Jerusalem. As you can read here, G‑d answered the king’s prayers, and the Assyrian armies were miraculously destroyed, bringing salvation to Jerusalem and its inhabitants.13
Just as G‑d granted them salvation, let us pray that He will once again hear our prayers and bring the ultimate redemption in our time.
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FOOTNOTES
1.Tanchuma (ed. Buber), Vayeira 16; Tur, Orach Chaim 134. See also Rokeach in his commentary on the Siddur, ch. 67, where this is cited as the reason why it was instituted to read the Torah on Mondays and Thursdays.
2.Talmud, Shabbat 129b.
3.See Kol Bo 18, and Rokeach, ibid. See also Aruch ha-Shulchan, Orach Chaim 134:1, where he explains that the idea that these are days of judgement can also be seen from the idea that during Monday and Thursday the mazal(constellation) of Mars is dominant for two hours as opposed to the normal one hour. Perhaps due to its reddish color, Mars is associated with violence and bloodshed. For more, see Angels and Mazalot.
4.Rokeach, ibid.
5.Note that the Rokeach seems to combine both explanations.
6.Rokeach, ibid. The translation here is mostly taken from My Prayer by Rabbi Nissan Mindel. Some changes were made based on the original source.
7.Others give the names Lyons, Arles and Bordeaux. This discrepancy is due to the fact that this story was originally written in Hebrew and is more than a millennium old.
8.This follows how it appears in the Rokeach. Our contemporary version seems to follow that of the Kol Bo quoted below.
9.Kol Bo 18.
10.Isaiah 43:2.
11.Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 134:1.
12.Rokeach on the Siddur, ch. 67.
13.Rabbi Yehudah he-Chassid, quoted in Mateh Moshe 220. See there how Hezekiah’s name is hinted at by the first letter of each paragraph. Additionally, there are said to be 132 words in this prayer, which is the numerical value of “Hezekiah” plus an additional two, corresponding to the second hour of the night, when this prayer was composed.
VIDEO

Hakhel in Our Times
When the Holy Temple stood in Jerusalem, every seven years the entire nation would gather there to hear the Torah read by the king and be inspired in the service of G-d. While the Temple may no longer stand in Jerusalem, it continues to exist spiritually within the heart of every Jew.
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http://www.chabad.org/therebbe/livingtorah/player_cdo/aid/3226578/jewish/Hakhel-in-Our-Times.htm

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Two People Who Tried to Do the Impossible
The Jewish way to define success by Yacov Barber
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The Power of Blessing
There are numerous references to the concept of blessings in this Torah portion. What is the special power of a blessing?
By Yehoshua B. Gordon
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PARSHAH

Don’t Sit: Walk
If we fail to give the body regular exercise, it can easily malfunction and put us at risk of serious illness. The question is: does the same apply to the soul, the spirit, the mind? by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks
Sitting is the new smoking. So goes the new health mantra. Spend too much time at a desk or in front of a screen, and you are at risk of significant danger to your health. The World Health Organization has identified physical inactivity as the fourth-greatest health hazard today, ahead of obesity. In the words of Dr. James Levine, one of the world’s leading experts on the subject and the man credited with coining the mantra, “We are sitting ourselves to death.”
The reason is that we were not made to sit still. Sitting is the new smokingOur bodies were made for movement, standing, walking and running. If we fail to give the body regular exercise, it can easily malfunction and put us at risk of serious illness. The question is: does the same apply to the soul, the spirit, the mind?
It is fascinating to look at the sequence of verbs in the very first verse of the book of Psalms: “Happy is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the ungodly, or stand in the way of sinners, or sit in the seat of the scornful.”1 That is a picture of the bad life, lived in pursuit of the wrong values. Note how the bad man begins by walking, then stands, then sits. A bad life immobilizes. That is the point of the famous verses in Hallel:
Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men’s hands. They have mouths but do not speak, eyes but do not see, ears but do not hear, noses but do not smell. They have hands but cannot feel, feet but cannot walk, nor can they make a sound with their throats. Those who make them will be like them; so will all who trust in them.2
If you live for lifeless things—as in the bumper sticker “He who dies with the most toys, wins”—you will become lifeless.
Except in the house of the L‑rd, Jews do not sit. Jewish life began with two momentous journeys, Abraham from Mesopotamia, Moses and the Israelitesfrom Egypt. “Walk on ahead of Me and be blameless,” said G‑d to Abraham.3At the age of ninety-nine, having just been circumcised, Abraham saw three strangers passing by and “ran to meet them.” On the verse “Jacob dwelled [vayeshev, the verb that also means “to sit”] in the land where his father had stayed,” Rashi, citing the sages, commented: “Jacob sought to live in tranquility, but immediately there broke in on him the troubles of Joseph.” The righteous do not sit still. They do not have a quiet life.
Rarely is the point made with more subtlety than at the end of this week’sParshah and the book of Exodus as a whole. The Tabernacle had been made and assembled. The closing verses tell us about the relationship between it and the “cloud of glory” that filled the Tent of Meeting. The Tabernacle was made to be portable.4 It could be dismantled and its parts carried as the Israelites traveled on the The Tabernacle was made to be portablenext stage of their journey. When the time came for them to move on, the cloud moved from the Tent of Meeting to a position outside the camp, signaling the direction the Israelites were to take. This is how the Torah describes it:
When the cloud lifted from above the Tabernacle, the Israelites went onward in all their journeys, but if the cloud did not lift, they did not set out until the day it lifted. So the cloud of the L‑rd was over the Tabernacle by day, and fire was in the cloud by night, in the sight of all the house of Israel in all their journeys. 5
There is a significant difference between the two occurrences of the phrase “in all their journeys.” In the first, the words are meant literally. When the cloud lifted, the Israelites knew they were about to begin a new stage of their journey. However in the second instance, they cannot be meant literally. The cloud was not “over the Tabernacle” in all their journeys. To the contrary, it was there only when they stopped journeying and instead pitched camp. During the journeys, the cloud went on ahead.
Rashi notes this and makes the following comment:
A place where they encamped is also called massa, “a journey” . . . because from the place of encampment they always set out again on a new journey; therefore they are all called “journeys.”
The point is linguistic, but the message is remarkable. In a few brief words, Rashi has summarized an existential truth about Jewish identity. To be a Jew is to travel. Judaism is a journey, not a destination. Even a place of rest, an encampment, is still called a journey. The Patriarchs lived not in houses but in tents.6 The first time we are told that a Patriarch built a house proves the point:
Jacob traveled to Sukkot. There he built himself a house, and made shelters [sukkot] for his livestock. That is why he called the place Sukkot.7
The verse is astonishing. Jacob has just become the first member of the covenantal family to build a house, yet he does not call the place “House” (as in Bet-El or Bet-Lechem). He calls it “cattle-sheds.” It is as if Jacob, consciously or unconsciously, already knew that to live the life of the covenant means to be ready to move on, to travel, to journey, to grow.
One might have thought that all this applied only to the time before the Israelites crossed the Jordan and entered the Promised Land. Yet the Torah tells us otherwise:
The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, because the land is Mine: you are strangers and temporary residents as far as I am concerned.8
If we live as if the land is permanently ours, our stay there will be temporary. If we live as if it is only temporarily so, we will live there permanently. In this world of time and change, growth and decay, only G‑d and His word are permanent. One of the most poignant lines in the book of Psalms—a verse cherished by the French-Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas—says, “I am a stranger on earth. Do not hide Your commands from me.”9 To be a Jew is to stay light on your feet, ready to begin the next stage of the journey, literally or metaphorically. An Englishman’s home is his castle, they used to say. But a Jew’s home is a tent, a tabernacle, a sukkah. We know that life on earth is a temporary dwelling. That is why we value each moment and its newness.
Recently a distinguished British Jew, (Lord) George Weidenfeld, died at the age of 96. He was a successful publisher, a friend and confidant of European leaders, an inveterate fighter for peace and a passionate Zionist. In 1949–50 he was political adviser and Chief of Cabinet to Chaim Weizmann, first president of Israel. One of his last acts was to help rescue 20,000 Christian refugees fleeing from ISIS in Syria. He was alert and active, even hyperactive, to the very end of a longTo be a Jew is to stay light on your feetand distinguished life.
In an interview with The Times on his ninety-second birthday he was asked the following question: “Most people in their nineties slow down. You seem to be speeding up. Why is that?” He replied, “When you get to ninety-two, you begin to see the door about to close. I have so much to do before the door closes that the older I get, the harder I have to work.” That is a good formula for staying young.
Like our bodies, our souls were not made for sitting still. We were made for moving, walking, traveling, learning, searching, striving, growing, knowing that it is not for us to complete the work but neither may we stand aside from it. In Judaism, as the book of Exodus reminds us in its closing words, even an encampment is called a journey. In matters spiritual, not just physical, sitting is the new smoking.
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FOOTNOTES
1.Psalms 1:1.
2.Psalms 115:4–8.
3.Genesis 17:1.
4.This was especially true of the ark. It was carried by staves that passed through rings on the side of the ark. It was forbidden to remove the staves, even when the Israelites were encamped (Exodus 25:15). The ark already had to be ready to travel at a moment’s notice. See the commentary of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch ad loc.
5.Exodus 40:36–38.
6.Note that Lot, in Sodom, lived in a house (Genesis 19:2). So did Laban (Genesis 24:23).
7.Genesis 33:17.
8.Leviticus 25:23.
9.Psalms 119:19.

An Arresting Question
Which question do we hate to ask ourselves, yet know we must? by Lazer Gurkow
The previous four Parshahs dealt with the specifications for building theTabernacle and its holy vestments. In this Parshah a very important detail is contributed—a calculation of the total sum of the donations received for the cause.
In this regard, the Torah acts as a competent accountant. A itemized report is provided of the gold, silver and copper that was donated, concluding with the grand total.
This aspect of our Parshah can be very instructive in our everyday lives.
Following the sin of the forbidden fruit, G‑d turned to Adam and asked, “Ayekah? Where are you?” Chassidic master Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadiexplains that this is question each of us must ask ourselves: Where are you? What stage are you at in life? What have you accomplished your thirty or forty years of living? This question gives us pause. Indeed, what have I accomplished in my lifetime? Am I proud of those accomplishments? Could I have done more? Am I living my life to its fullest potential?
The answers to these questions cannot be known unless we stop to take an accounting, to put together a lifelong register of failures and successes. This is the only way to view life from a comprehensive perspective; this allows us to make the adjustments that will alter (or steady) our course, ensuring that we are headed in the direction we want to go.
I conclude with an unsolicited piece of advice:
Ask yourself tonight before you go to bed, What have I accomplished today?
Don’t go to sleep until you give yourself an answer you are proud of.

Learn Pekudei in Depth
A condensation of the weekly Torah portion alongside select commentaries culled from the Midrash, Talmud, Chassidic masters, and the broad corpus of Jewish scholarship.
Exodus 38:21-40:38
“These are the accounts of the Mishkan, the Mishkan of the Testimony, as they were counted by Moses’ command . . .”
Pekudei (“Accounts”) is the last in a series of five Parshiot (Torah sections) describing the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary built by the people of Israel in the Sinai Desert by Divine command to serve as “a dwelling for G‑d in the physical world.”
In the Parshiot of Terumah, Tetzaveh and the first part of Ki Tisa were detailed G‑d’s instructions to Mosesregarding the making of the Mishkan, its “vessels” and the priestly garments.
In Vayakhel was related—again, in minute detail—the actual making of the Mishkan and its vessels.
Our Parshah, Pekudei, contains: a) an audit of the gold, silver and copper used in the Mishkan’s construction; b) the making of the priestly garments; c) the erection and consecration of the Mishkan.
Gold, Silver and Copper
The menorah and the kapporet (ark cover) were of solid gold; the ark, table, golden altar, and the Mishkan’s wall panels and posts were gold-plated; gold thread was added to the fibers in the roof coverings, the veil (parochet), the screens and the high priest’s garments. Altogether,
The gold of the offering was twenty-nine talents and seven hundred and thirty shekels, according to the shekel of the sanctuary.
The silver for the Mishkan was supplied by the half-shekels contributed by each of those who “went to be numbered”: 603,550 men of draftable age, each giving half a shekel, made 100 talents plus 1775 shekels of silver (a “talent” is approximately 150 lb.). The 100 talents were used to make the 100 foundation sockets that held up the Mishkan’s wall panels and posts; the 1775 shekels were used for the hooks and trimmings on the 60 posts that held up the wall-hangings which enclosed the courtyard.
The copper totaled 70 talents and 2400 shekels, and was used to make “the foundation sockets to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting; the copper altar, its copper grate, and all the vessels of the altar; the foundation sockets of the courtyard surrounding it, and the sockets of the courtyard entrance; and all the pegs of the Tabernacle and all the pegs of the courtyard surrounding it.”
The Priestly Garments
Although the priestly garments have already been described in detail in G‑d’s instruction to Moses related in the Parshah of Tetzaveh, the Torah now devotes 30 verses (39:2–31) to repeat these details in describing the actual making of the garments:
He made the ephod of gold; blue-, purple- and scarlet- [dyed wool], and fine twined linen . . .
He made the breastplate. . . . They set in it four rows of stones . . . enclosed in fixtures of gold in their settings. The stones were according to the names of the children of Israel, twelve, according to their names.
He made the cloak of the ephod of woven work, all of blue. . . . They made upon the hems of the cloak pomegranates of blue-, purple- and scarlet- [dyed wool], twined together. They made bells of pure gold, and put the bells between the pomegranates upon the hem of the cloak . . .
They made tunics of fine linen of woven work for Aaron and for his sons; and the turban of fine linen . . . and linen breeches of fine twined linen; and a sash of fine twined linen, and blue-, purple- and scarlet- [dyed wool], the work of an embroiderer, as G‑d commanded Moses.
They made the plate of the holy crown of pure gold, and wrote upon it a writing, like the engravings of a signet, “Holy to G‑d.” They tied to it laces of blue, to fasten it on the turban above, as G‑d commanded Moses.
(For more on the priestly garments, see summary and commentary for Tetzaveh.)
“Thus was all the work of the Tabernacle of the Tent of Meeting finished. The children of Israel did [it]; according to all that G‑d commanded Moses, thus they did.”
The Dwelling Assembled
They brought the Tabernacle to Moses. . . . Moses saw all the work, and behold, they had done it; as G‑d had commanded, thus had they done it. And Moses blessed them.
It came to pass in the first month (Nissan), in the second year (from the Exodus), on the first day of the month, that the Tabernacle was erected.
Moses erected the Tabernacle, fastened its sockets, set up its wall panels, put in its bars, and raised up its pillars.
He spread the tent over the Mishkan, and put the covering of the tent above upon it, as G‑d commanded Moses.
He took and placed the [tablets of] testimony into the ark, and set the carrying poles on the ark, and put the kapporet above, upon the ark. He brought the ark into the Tabernacle, and set up the veil of the screen and screened the ark of the testimony, as G‑d commanded Moses.
He put the table in the Tent of Meeting, upon the northward side of the Tabernacle, outside the veil. He set the bread in order upon it before G‑d, as G‑d commanded Moses.
He put the menorah in the Tent of Meeting, opposite the table, on the southward side of the Tabernacle. He lit the lamps before G‑d, as G‑d commanded Moses.
He put the golden altar in the Tent of Meeting, in front of the veil. He burnt sweet incense upon it, as G‑d commanded Moses.
He set up the screen at the door of the Tabernacle. And the altar of burnt offering he placed before the door of the Tabernacle . . . and offered upon it the burnt offering and the meal offering, as G‑d commanded Moses.
He set the basin between the Tent of Meeting and the altar, and put water there for washing . . .
He erected the courtyard surrounding the Tabernacle and the altar, and set up the screen of the courtyard entrance. Thus Moses finished the work.
(For more on the Mishkan, see summary and commentary for Terumah.
The Dwelling Inhabited
The cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the glory of G‑d filled the Tabernacle . . .
When the cloud was taken up from over the Tabernacle, the children of Israel went onward in all their journeys. But if the cloud was not taken up, then they did not journey till the day that it was taken up.
For the cloud of G‑d was upon the Tabernacle by day, and fire was on it by night, in the sight of all the house of Israel, throughout all their journeys.
These are the accounts of the Tabernacle . . . by the command of Moses . . . by the hand of Ithamar the son of Aaron (38:21)
The sages taught: Always appoint at least two people together as trustees over public funds. Even Moses, who enjoyed the full trust of G‑d—as it is written (Numbers 12:7), “In all My house he is trusted”—figured the accounts of the Sanctuary together with others, as it says, “By the hand of Ithamar the son of Aaron.”
Thus the sages taught: the one who withdrew [the monies donated to the Holy Temple] did not enter the chamber wearing either a hemmed cloak, shoes, sandals, tefillin or an amulet (i.e., nothing in which money can be hidden), lest if he became poor, people might say that he became poor because of an iniquity committed in the chamber, or if he became rich, people might say that he became rich from the withdrawal from the chamber. For it is a person’s duty to be free of blame before men as before G‑d, as it is said (Numbers 32:22): “And be guiltless towards G‑d and towards Israel.”
(Midrash Tanchuma; Mishnah, Shekalim 3:2)
The silver . . . was one hundred talents, and one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five shekels, according to the shekel of the Sanctuary (38:25)
The Roman general Controcos questioned Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai: If each gave half a shekel, there should have been 201 talents and 11 maneh of silver. . . . Was Moses your teacher a thief or a swindler, or else a bad mathematician? He gave a half, took a half, and did not [even] return a complete half? Replied Rabbi Yochanan: Moses our teacher was a trustworthy treasurer and a good mathemetician; these talents were measured in “the shekel of the Sanctuary,” which is double the common measure.
(Talmud, Bechorot 5a)
It came to pass . . . that the Tabernacle was erected (40:17)
Whenever the Torah uses the word vayehi (“it came to pass”), this connotes a woeful event. What woe was there in the Mishkan’s completion? This is comparable to a king who had a contentious wife. So he said to her: “Make me a purple cloak.” As long as she was preoccupied with it, she did not quarrel. When her work was completed, she brought it to the king. The king saw it and was pleased with it, and began cry out, “Woe! Woe!” Said his wife: “What is this, my lord? I have labored to do your will, and you cry, ‘Woe, woe’?” Said he to her: “The work is beautiful and favorable in my eyes. But as long as you were preoccupied with it, you did not anger or provoke me; now that you are free of it, I fear that you will again anger me.”
So too said G‑d: “As long as My children were occupied with the Mishkan, they did not grumble against Me. Now they will again begin to provoke Me.” Therefore it says vayehi—implying vai hi, “woe is it.”
(Midrash Tanchuma)
In the first month . . . on the first day of the month, the Tabernacle was erected (40:17)
On the 25th of Kislev the work of Mishkan was completed, and its components sat folded up [for three months] until the 1st of Nissan, because G‑d wanted that the Mishkan should be erected in the month that Isaac was born. . . . The month of Kislev was thus deprived. Said G‑d: “I must compensate it.” How did G‑d compensate the month of Kislev? With the dedication of the Temple by the Hasmoneans (on Chanukah).
(Pesikta Rabbati)
When did the consecration of the Sanctuary begin? On the 23rd of Adar. And on the 1st of Nissan the days of consecration were completed. During each of the seven days of consecration Moses set up the Tabernacle, offered his sacrifices in it every morning, and then pulled it down. On the eighth day he put it up but did not dismantle it again.
(Midrash Rabbah)
Seven times Moses erected the Mishkan and then dismantled it, presaging the seven Sanctuaries that would serve the Jewish people: the Tabernacle in the desert, those at Gilgal, Shiloh, Nov and Givon, and the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. Seven times Moses dismantled the Tabernacle and then set it up again, so that the future falls of these Sanctuaries should not be permanent, but be followed by a rebuilding. Thus we are guaranteed that the destruction of the seventh Sanctuary will be followed by the building of the Third Temple, which shall never be destroyed.
(Rabbi Avraham Mordechai of Gur)
The glory of G‑d filled the Tabernacle (40:34)
What is the meaning of the verse (Song of Songs 5:1), “I have come into My garden, My sister, My bride”? This means [the G‑d says, “I have returned] to My bridal chamber, to the place which has been My principal abode from the very beginning.” For was not the principal abode of the Shechinah (Divine Presence) in the terrestrial regions? For so it is written (Genesis 3:8), “They heard the voice of the L‑rd G‑d walking in the garden” . . .
But when Adam sinned, the Shechinah betook itself to the first heaven. When Cain sinned, it betook itself to the second heaven. When the generation of Enosh sinned, it ascended to the third heaven. When the generation of the Flood sinned, it rose to the fourth heaven. When the generation of the Tower of Babel sinned, it moved up into the fifth heaven. When the people of Sodom sinned, it rose into the sixth heaven. And when the Egyptians sinned, it ascended into the seventh heaven.
Then arose seven righteous people who brought the Shechinah down from the celestial to the terrestrial regions: Abraham brought it down from the seventh heaven to the sixth, Isaac brought it down from the sixth to the fifth, Jacob brought it down from the fifth to the fourth, Levi brought it down from the fourth to the third, Kohath brought it down from the third to the second, Amram brought it down from the second to the first, and Moses brought it down from the celestial to the terrestrial region. . . . When did the Shechinah come to dwell on earth? On the day when the Tabernacle was erected, as it says, “The cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the glory of G‑d filled the Tabernacle.”
(Midrash Rabbah)
Moses was not able to enter the Tent of Meeting, because the cloud rested on it, and the glory of G‑d filled the Tabernacle (40:35)
Rav Zerika raised the following contradiction: One verse reads, “Moses was not able to enter into the Tent of Meeting because the cloud rested on it,” whereas another verse (Exodus 24:18) says, “Moses entered into the midst of the cloud”? This is to tell us that G‑d took hold of Moses and brought him into the cloud.
(Talmud, Yoma 4b)
Said Rabbi Chama bar Chaninaa: Can it be that Moses feared the cloud? Is it not already written, “Moses entered into the midst of the cloud”? . . . In what sense was he “not able”? Because Moses accorded honor to the Shechinah, and did not enter until he was summoned inside.
(Midrash HaGadol)

STORY

The Miser’s Slippers
It was a cold and miserable night; snow and sleet blew through the deserted streets. The miser asked the rabbi in, as usual. But the rabbi refused. “No,” he said, “I won’t be long . . .” by Shoshannah Brombacher

In a town lived a very rich miser. Every time the local rabbi came to his door to collect funds for the poor, the miser would invite the rabbi in, offer the rabbi a glass of tea and talk about his business. When the rabbi started talking about the plight of the poor people in the winter, the miser would brush him off and tell him that poor people like to complain—it wasn’t all as bad as the rabbi thought. In any case, he had no cash in the house at the moment, and couldn’t give anything right now. Could the rabbi come back another time? The miser would then escort the rabbi to the door, go back to his warm and comfortable room and settle down in his favorite chair near the fireplace, very pleased with himself.
But the rabbi was not pleased. The poor had no money for food or for wood for their stoves, and they were cold and hungry.
One evening the rabbi knocked on the rich miser’s door. It was a cold and miserable night; snow and sleet blew through the deserted streets. The miser asked the rabbi in, as usual. But the rabbi refused. “No,” he said, “I won’t be long.” And then he inquired after the miser’s health and after the health of his family, and asked him about his business, and spoke about the affairs of the community for a long time. The miser could not send the rabbi away, of course; he had opened the door for him himself. But he was getting quite uncomfortable. He had come to the door in his slippers and skullcap, dressed in a thin shirt and his house pants. The rabbi, wearing a warm coat with a fur lining, his biggest shtreimel covering his ears and heavy winter boots encasing his feet and legs, talked on and on. No, he didn’t want to come in. No, really, he was on his way. The miser’s toes became ice and stone.
Suddenly the miser understood. “Oh, Rabbi!” he cried. “Those poor people with no warm clothes or firewood for winter . . . I never knew. I never imagined it could be like this. This is miserable. It is horrible. I never knew, honestly! Something must be done!” He went into the house and returned with a purse full of gold coins. He wanted to go back to his fireplace as soon as he could. He needed hot tea. The rabbi thanked him and took the money. He too was cold after that long talk, but he didn’t mind. The poor people would have a good winter this year.
The miser changed his ways that night. He became a regular contributor to the rabbi’s funds for the poor, for poor brides, for poor students, for Passovermoney and for many other causes. He had learned a good lesson that night.

The Donkeys in the Attic
The merchants watched with amazement how the young Elazar was helping himself to the fresh loaves. by Nissan Mindel
Here is a story about Rabbi Elazar the son of Rabbi Shimon, when he was a young boy.
A number of merchants came one day to Sidon, where Rabbi Shimon dwelt. They came to buy grain, and brought with them their donkeys, and of course a sizable amount of money.
The merchants were afraid to go to an inn, lest they be robbed of their money. So, knowing that Rabbi Shimon’s house was always open to wayfarers, they came to his house, leaving their donkeys outside.
Rabbi Shimon was not home, but the merchants were made welcome by the young Elazar. They sat down to rest, and watched the young Elazar sitting by the oven, where fresh bread was baking. Presently Elazar’s mother began to take the loaves out of the oven. The merchants watched with amazement how the young Elazar was helping himself to the fresh loaves. No sooner was a loaf taken out from the oven than he ate it up. His mother kept on giving him the fresh loaves, and Elazar kept on eating them with an amazing appetite. Out of the oven and into his mouth!
“Poor boy!” the merchants remarked to one another. “He must have a snake in his stomach, eating so much. Thank G‑d there are not many like him, or there would be a terrible famine in the world!”
Elazar pretended that he did not understand their tongue, and showed no offense. The merchants went to the market to look around what there was for them to buy, and left their donkeys tied to the fence outside Rabbi Shimon’s house. When they were gone, Elazar went outside, untied each donkey in turn, and swinging it over his shoulders as though it were a little lamb, he took the donkeys up, one by one, to the attic of the house.
When the merchants returned and found that their donkeys were gone, they became quite alarmed. But then they noticed the young boy all smiles, and they understood that he was up to some mischief. The next moment they heard their donkeys braying, and the sound was coming from the attic! They climbed up the ladder, and there indeed were their donkeys.
They wondered how on earth the donkeys got up there. They could hardly believe that the young boy could have hauled them all up to the attic! But what they were chiefly concerned with for the moment was how to get them down again. One had to have the strength of a giant to carry a donkey down the ladder, and they did not know what to do.
So the merchants went to the Beth Hamidrash, where Rabbi Shimon was teaching, and told him their problem.
“Did you perhaps offend my son?” Rabbi Shimon asked them.
“Worshipful Master,” the merchants answered, “it was never our intention to offend your son. Besides, we did not know that he understood our language. But when we saw his amazing appetite, we could not help remarking to each other about it . . .”
“I see now. You did offend him. For after all, what business was it of yours to criticize him? He was not eating anything that belonged to you, nor do you have to support him. But G‑d, who gives life, provides each one according to his needs. Now I suggest that you go back to my son and apologize to him. Tell him that I asked him to forgive you.”
“But our donkeys . . .”
“Don’t worry. Leave it to my boy,” Rabbi Shimon said, and dismissed the merchants.
The merchants went back to Elazar and apologized to him. They gave him his father’s message. Elazar readily forgave them. Then he went up to the attic and brought the donkeys down two at a time!
Never had the merchants seen such a feat of strength in their lives, and giving the boy a look full of awe, they made their hasty departure.
Some time after this, Rabbi Shimon had to flee for his life and hide in a cave, The Romans sought to put him to death, as they had done to his master Rabbi Akiva. Elazar gladly gave up all the comforts of his home in order to be with his father in that difficult time. So father and son hid together in a cave.
G‑d made a carob tree grow near the entrance of the cave, and a spring of fresh water appeared nearby. Rabbi Shimon and his son Elazar spent thirteen years in the cave. They studied together, and the strange boy grew up to be a saintly man, learned and pious like his father. He was no longer as strong as he used to be. On a hot day, even his tallit seemed to weigh heavily on him. Yet, Rabbi Elazar became another kind of a giant—a giant of the spirit.
LIFESTYLE

Cheerful Chocolate-Filled Funfetti Hamantaschen by Miriam Szokovski
I have no idea when “funfetti” became a flavor, but apparently at some point it did. And despite my cynicism at the legitimacy of sprinkles as a flavor, I’ve decided to give it a shot and make these cheerful, festive hamantaschen for Purim.

I’ve filled them with dark chocolate, but you can use white chocolate, or any of the more traditional fillings (jam, poppyseed, etc.)




Not sure how to do the actual folding? Check it out here.


Ingredients
2 eggs
½ cup sugar
¼ cup oil
1 tsp. vanilla
2 cups flour
1½ tsp. baking powder
⅓ cup sprinkles
1 bar of chocolate (or 1 cup chocolate chips)
Directions
Mix the eggs, sugar, oil and vanilla.
Add 1 cup of flour and the baking powder. Mix.
Add the second cup of flour until the dough forms a soft but not sticky ball. You may need 2–3 more tablespoons of flour if your dough is sticky.
Gently knead in the sprinkles.
Roll out the dough and cut our circles.
Put a piece of chocolate, or 3–4 chocolate chips, in the center of each circle.
Gently fold the sides and pinch shut tightly.
Bake for 10–12 minutes at 350° F.

Art: Generations of Light by Yoram Raanan

Thus shall the children of Israel observe the Sabbath, to make the Sabbath throughout their generations as an everlasting covenant. (Exodus 31:16)
For countless generations, the Jewish people have been observingShabbat by lighting candles before sunset on Friday night. The prophetIsaiah called the Sabbath “a delight—G‑d’s holy day honored.” We honor Shabbat by partaking of fine meals while our table is illuminated by lights that bring peace and delight into our homes.
In the painting, the myriad candles reflect many generations of lights. These jewel-like candles illuminate an elaborate table. They form a corridor in time (suggesting the lights of both of the past and the future). Our sages have compared the days of the week to a corridor which leads to the great banquet hall called Shabbat.
WOMEN

How I Learned to See the Bigger Picture
Determined to continue, my grandmother hopped on a train that took them to California. by Elana Mizrahi
I have a great story to share with you. My father was visiting us this past month, and he told us about something that happened to him when he was 2 years old.
The year was 1944, and his father, my grandfather, who had been drafted into army service, was stationed at an army base near Yuba City, California. My grandmother decided that she wanted to visit him, and so she bought tickets for a flight that would take her and my father from New York to California.
For some reason, the airplane made a stop in Chicago, and my grandmother and father very inconveniently got bumped from the flight. Determined to continue, my grandmother hopped on a train that took them to California. When they arrived, they heard the news: The flight that they had been bumped from crashed. Everyone on board was killed.
It’s no wonder that when my grandmother passed away more than 60 years later, they found among her saved belongings the airplane tickets from this flight and a newspaper clipping describing the crash. For 60 years, my grandmother kept this reminder that nothing in life happens coincidentally.
I had a slightly challenging time last week with my appliances. Our dryer broke, which would not be a big deal in the heat of the summer, but in the cold of the winter, with a family of six (not to mention that I am a massage therapist, who needs to constantly wash sheets for sessions), a broken dryer is definitely a technical difficulty! Then my food processor jumped out at me from the cabinet and came crashing to the floor, breaking into a million pieces. My food processor is my right-hand man for all my Shabbat meal preparations, and there it lay, shattered.
At the end of the week I went to a client’s home to give a treatment. As I was carrying my massage table down the many cement stairs that led from my client’s home, my laptop fell out of my backpack and came crashing down onto the cement floor. I picked it up, not even wanting to think about what had just happened. Now let me remind you, I’m not just a massage therapist, I’m also a writer! You know what a laptop is for a writer . . .
Back at home, I opened the laptop, and there was a spider’s web of a screen in front of me. It was late. I was tired. “Why?” I wanted to cry. I looked at my husband. “Thank G‑d, it was just the computer and not my head! But tell me something. Why?”
He looked back at me. “Thank G‑d, it’s just a computer.”
Why did all this happen in one week? I don’t know. I could make things up, but do I really know why? Does it matter why?
There once was a great sage named Rabbi Akiva. The Talmud relates this story about him:
Rabbi Akiva was accustomed to saying, “Everything G‑d does is for the good.” Once Rabbi Akiva was traveling with a donkey, a rooster and a candle, and when night came he tried to find lodging in a nearby village, only to be turned away. No one wanted him. Although Rabbi Akiva was forced to spend the night in the field, he didn’t complain, but instead his reaction was, “Everything G‑d does is for the good.” A wind came and blew out his candle, a cat ate his rooster and a lion ate his donkey. With each thing that occurred, Rabbi Akiva’s reaction was the same: “Everything that G‑d does is for the good.” That night, a regiment came and took the entire town (where Rabbi Akiva had wanted to stay) captive, while Rabbi Akiva, who was sleeping in the dark and quiet field, went unnoticed and thus was spared. When Rabbi Akiva realized what happened, he said, "Didn’t I tell you that everything that G‑d does is for the good?”1
The commentator Rashi explains that if the candle, rooster or donkey would have been around, the regiment would have spotted or heard them, and surely would have captured Rabbi Akiva.
Now, let me give you a twist on this story. Let’s say that Rabbi Akiva never found out about the fate of the village. And let’s just say that my grandmother and father boarded the train, and never heard that the plane had crashed . . .
In our daily prayers we say:
“We give thanks to You, acknowledging that You are the L‑rd our G‑d and G‑d of our fathers forever. You are the strength of our life, the shield of our salvation in every generation. We will give thanks to You and recount Your praise, evening, morning and noon, for our lives that are committed into Your hand, for our souls that are entrusted to You, for the hidden miracles that You do for us every day, and for Your continual wonders and beneficences. You are the Beneficent One, for Your mercies never cease; the Merciful One, for Your kindnesses never end; for we always place our hope in You.”
Why do we include this particular prayer in our daily prayers? Because as Rabbi Bechayei, a 14th-century commentator, wrote, “There isn’t any individual in Israel for whom hidden miracles don’t happen every day!”
Sometimes we are given a glimpse, a very small piece of a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle, a puzzle that includes not only the physical reality of the world as we know it, but the spiritual world as well. This spiritual world is beyond human comprehension and our limited human vision. If we could really see the entire puzzle, we would see that the very thing that was so tragic and difficult for us is for the best. But it is only when the spiritual parts to the puzzle will be revealed to us that we will see this.
When we do see the salvation—when it’s revealed to us and we are grateful for it—surely we need to hold onto it, to remind us that there are no coincidences and that, yes, everything that G‑d does is for the best. It’s so hard to discern where the piece of the puzzle goes and what the puzzle really looks like. It’s so hard to see clearly the good in each thing that happens, but ultimately we must know something: Hidden or revealed, everything that G‑d does is for the best. Twenty-four hours of the day, seven days of the week, 365 days of the year, He performs miracles for us.
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FOOTNOTES
1.Talmud, Berachot 60b.

What This Man Did With His Trash Is Unbelievable
I guarantee you that the sculptures and mosaics will leave you spellbound. by Chana Weisberg

Dear reader,
I recently returned from the West Coast. On my last day there, the woman who drove me to my destination in Riverside offered to show me around her city. Hiking with Brittney in mid-January along paths littered with towering palm trees and picturesque tropical flowers in sunny California was a huge treat.
Brittney is artistic, so she showed me some great art spots in downtown Riverside where local artists display their creations. Together we marveled at the intricate architecture in the buildings. And then, my awesome host offered to take me to a very unique and unexpected place.
Tio’s Taco is not a kosher restaurant, so don’t go there to eat. But do go there, as many tourists do, to view the incredible outdoor pathways set on an acre of land. I guarantee you that the sculptures and mosaics will leave you spellbound.
What makes the whimsical artwork so incredible is that every sculpture is made out of recycled everyday objects that you’d be more inclined to find in a junkyard. Beer bottles, soda cans, bottle tops, discarded children’s toys and shells are transformed into giant characters. Held together with simple chicken wire, this leftover trash tells a tale of ingenuity and creativity.
As a young child, the owner and artist, Tio Martin Sanchez, migrated with his family to California from a small town in rural Mexico. He describes how people of poor countries marvel at the trash of affluent, privileged countries. Back in Mexico, Tio created his own toys from whatever scraps of refuse he could find. Upon immigrating, he supported himself by selling oranges on the side of the road. Eventually, he worked his way up until he owned his restaurant.
Despite his success, his artwork attests that he never forgot the treasures that lay buried in what others may regard as trash.

The Kabbalists teach that every created thing possesses a “spark” of Divine energy that constitutes its essence and soul. No existence is devoid of a Divine spark; nothing can exist without the pinpoint of G‑dliness that imbues it with being and purpose. When we use something for a G‑dly end, we bring to light this spark, realizing the purpose for which it was created.
Walking through Tio’s Taco, I couldn’t help but think of the many things that we disdainfully discard as useless or purposeless. Even worse, how often do we treat people in the very same manner!
Tio’s Taco reminded me that if trash can be transformed into art, how much more so should we view each of our life experiences as a potential for something great, containing a wealth of learning opportunities.
And, most importantly, no matter at what state or stage, every individual we meet needs to be seen and treasured—as G‑d’s exquisite artwork.
Chana Weisberg,
Editor, TJW

Bikkur Cholim: Getting Over My Unhealthy Obsession
It isn’t easy to visit a sick person, especially for someone with my psychological profile, but I try to focus on what the mitzvah accomplishes. by Lieba Rudolph
I didn’t need to enter a hospital to learn about the mitzvah of bikkur cholim, visiting the sick; it was an integral part of my family background. I grew up with stories of my grandfather’s participation in the “Press Old Newsboys,” a group of businessmen who began as newspaper boys and had become successful enough to raise money for the Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh. Some people may have been inspired by this legacy; I was terrified.Did she make it out of there alive?
I remember looking at a framed newspaper clipping in my grandmother’s house: a picture of my mother and aunt as adolescents, smiling by the bedside of a young patient about their age, a blonde girl whose face I will never forget. I couldn’t help staring at the picture in fascination every time I visited my grandmother; I was obsessed with this girl’s fate. Did she make it out of there alive? Why doesG‑d make some people healthy and some not? How does He decide?
The annual Children’s Hospital telethon further fueled my unhealthy obsession. Every year my family gathered around the television set to watch our city’s most venerated newscaster spend the evening going from ward to ward, microphone in hand, visiting all the young patients, trying to cheer them up. I was haunted by another young girl, one who actually lived in the hospital. She had become a “regular” on the annual telethon, until one year the newscaster announced grimly that she wasn’t living anywhere anymore. What was I supposed to think of that?
Almost any exposure to adversity used to trigger my obsessive thoughts about suffering. I thought growing up meant finally being able to let go of these unhappy thoughts and enjoy my life. But when I became observant, I realized that my obsession, painful as it was, had served a holy purpose: it’s what ultimately propelled me to incorporate Torah and mitzvahs into my life.
Not that I have answers now, but at least I understand that G‑d gave us Torah and mitzvahs to heal the world. And one of the ways we come to appreciate the universal need for healing is through the experience of individual suffering. The afflicted person has spiritual opportunities that arise from his or her challenges (may G‑d give us only positive challenges), and those who help alleviate others’ suffering have the merit of hastening the coming of Moshiach, a time when people won’t get sick or obsess over why people get sick. There are many spiritual benefits that characterize the messianic era, but let’s be honest, who wouldn’t be thrilled to enjoy eternal physical health?
But I’ve come to think that until that time arrives, life is just one long (or, unfortunately, not so long) effort on G‑d’s part to sensitize us to the reality ofein od milvado, “there is nothing but Him.” Neither our health nor our lives are in our own hands, and the fact that we have little control in these areas is one more way to recognize Him. Could that be why bikkur cholim is one of the handful of mitzvahs that you’re rewarded for in this world and in the next?
It It isn’t easy to visit a sick personisn’t easy to visit a sick person, especially for someone with my psychological profile, but I try to focus on what the mitzvah accomplishes. (I’ve been told that according to our sages, it actually removes 1/60th of a person’s illness.) I try to call the patient first, I try not to stay too long, and—this is my favorite rule—I try not to get myself all fancy for the visit. (Someone who is unwell doesn’t need to be reminded how good it feels to get dressed up to go out.)
The mitzvah of bikkur cholim simultaneously reminds us of our fragility and our power, our humanity and our G‑dliness—and our essential connectedness, no matter what condition we’re in.
JEWISH NEWS

#openShabbat: Pulling the Plug at Plugged-In SXSW
Shabbat dinner at Texas hi-tech and entertainment festival to draw hundreds off the grid. by Eric Berger

Rabbi Mordechai Lightstone announces it's time to turn off the cell phones for Shabbat at the tech-heavy South by Southwest (SXSW) festival in Austin, Texas. Young professionals who attend the #openShabbat dinner organized by him and his wife, Chana Lightstone, with the support of local Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries, say they enjoy the focus on tradition and good company.
The first time that Rabbi Mordechai Lightstone and his wife, Chana, attended the South by Southwest (better known as SXSW) music, film and interactive festival in Austin, Texas, attendees approached them and said: “We have a rabbi and his family here; we should do something Jewish,” recalls Chana Lightstone.
And so, the couple decided to host a barbecue—that is, until they realized that in Texas, a “barbecue” means roasting an entire cow. So they held a more modest cookout with kosher burgers and hot dogs.
The Lightstones have since added their own flair to the annual festival, but in a more subtle and spiritual way: They host a Shabbat dinner minus the electronics and minus the cell phones, which at SXSW may appear to some as sacrilegious. The standing humor is that attendees are required to converse—vocally, of course—in more than 140 characters, the maximum for a tweet on Twitter.
“A lot of people who attend SXSW say this is the busiest week of the year,” Chana Lightstone notes of the festival that completely takes over the city and opens this year on Friday (it runs through Sunday, March 20). “Many attendees welcome our Shabbat atmosphere and a different kind of energy, which stands in stark contrast to the rest of the festival. They get to experience Shabbat, sit down, unplug and unwind.”
The couple initially attended the festival in 2010 because Mordechai (who now works as social-media director for Chabad.org) was speaking on a panel about evolving Jewish identity on the web, titled “Judaism 2.0.”

Lightstone with a startup entrepreneur from Tel Aviv on the SXSW showroom floor in a prior year.
“It’s a unique experience,” says Chana Lightstone of the week-long roster of events. “Everything is on wheels. There are a million receptions. Attendees meet people as they exchange business cards, walking around holding their cell phones and tablets, and are just super, super plugged in. People stay awake 24/7, with the adrenaline pumping.”
Katie Frankel, the director of community at ff Venture Capital, a firm based in New York, has attended the festival for three years and hosts a number of large parties at the event.
Of #openShabbat, she says: “It helps me stay connected to my Jewish identity during the craziness of the tech conference, as well as during my hectic life at home.”
‘Yiddishkeit That Holds Us Together’
A broader picture of Jewish life in Austin can be seen in the work of Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries there year-round, who serve a Jewish population of between 12,000 and 18,000 (the city is known for the hip and the young, who also tend to be very transient).
Rabbi Mendy Levertov, director of Chabad Young Jewish Professionals of Austin with his wife, Mussy—it’s part of Chabad Lubavitch of Austin, co-directed by Rabbi Yosef and Rochel Levertov—notes that many of the people who attend SXSW match the exact demographic they serve. The festival fits right into their activities offered throughout the year, including Shabbat dinners, weekly discussions, holiday festival celebrations, classes and business networking events.

Communications strategist Alan Weinkrantz regularly attends the annual Shabbat dinner at SXSW. While here he's holding a mic and a phone, they are long gone come Friday night.
“It brings together the many different pople who inhabit the Austin space at the same time,” explains Levertov. “Locals, visitors, SXSW presenters all get to meet on Friday night and schmooze a little about the Yiddishkeit that holds us all together. It also allows Jewish Austinites a chance to make out-of-town friendships. And who knows? Maybe it will even lead to a marriage?”
The rabbi plans to bring about 25 young adults to the dinner.
Chabad also has a near decade-long presence at the University of Texas in Austin: the Rohr Chabad Jewish Student Center, co-directed by Rabbi Zev and Ariela Johnson.
‘A Way of Connecting’
Since 2010, the Lightstones have made the annual trek from the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., to the tech-induced city of Austin, and focus their efforts on the dinner, called #openShabbat. The event has since gone viral, with a few hundred people attending and even more interested every year. The Friday-night dinner is now held at the Hilton Austin Hotel—one of the largest venues near the festival—and the Lightstones already expect more than 250 people.
It adds a dollop of Jewish tradition, applied wisdom and weekly holiday feel to the lives of those who focus on the new.
Alan Weinkrantz, a communications strategist, just returned to San Antonio after 16 months in Israel and will again attend the festival, which launched in 1987. A brand ambassador to Israel for a digital cloud company, Weinkrantz will participate in two panels on global entrepreneurship. He notes that he recommended the festival to a some Israeli friends who are attending this year.
He first met Mordechai Lightstone at another tech event—the 140 Characters Conference in New York—and the two have since become friends. He now attends the Shabbat dinner each year.
“It’s a way of connecting with other humans without all the other stuff in the middle,” says Weinkrantz.

Dinner co-organizer Chana Lightstone notes that the goal of the Shabbat program is to unplug, unwind, sit down and experience the weekly Jewish holiday.
In contrast to the multitude of networking events at the festival, during the dinner “business comes up, but we don’t do business. I’m not there to sell anything.”
Rather, he describes it as “a wonderful, real experience. The food is really good. It’s like one of your grandmother’s dinners, except you’re with 300 or 400 cousins.”
As the name implies, the Shabbat meal on March 11 at 7:30 p.m. is open to anyone, but the hosts request that people register in advance here.

There's much to prepare before the onset of Shabbat, including bringing in a Torah scroll to be read during Shabbat services.

U.S. Graduate Student Killed in Stabbing Near Jaffa Marina
Taylor Force, 29, was in Israel as part of a global entrepreneurship visit. by Chabad.org Staff
Officials in Israel at the scene of a terrorist attack near the Jaffa Marina, which lies adjacent to Tel Aviv. (Photo: Tomer Neuberg/Flash90)
A Vanderbilt University graduate student was killed and 11 others were wounded, some critically, near the Jaffa marina adjacent to Tel Aviv in a stabbing rampage by a 22-year-old Palestinian terrorist.
Vanderbilt Chancellor Nick Zeppos said in a letter to the university community that Taylor Force, 29, a student at the Owen Graduate School of Management in Nashville, Tenn., was killed during a visit geared to focus on global entrepreneurship. Force was expected to “share his insights and knowledge with start-ups in Israel,” said Zeppos.
His wife, who was with him, was also severely injured in the attack.
Zeppos said Force, a U.S. war veteran from Texas, “exemplified the spirit of discovery, learning and service that is the hallmark of our wonderful Owen community.”
“This horrific act of violence has robbed our Vanderbilt family of a young hopeful life and all of the bright promise that he held for bettering our greater world,” said Zeppos.
The attacker, a resident of Qalqilya in Samaria, struck at three locations near the marina before he was shot dead by police.
Rabbi Shlomo Rothstein, co-director of the Rohr Chabad House at Vanderbilt, said “our heart and prayers go out to Taylor Force’s family, friends and the entire Vanderbilt community, although no words can comfort such pain. Unfortunately, this is one of many such attacks that were committed recently. Let’s work to stop the attacks!”
“It is incumbent upon all people who value life and goodness,” he continued, “to call for the Palestinian leaders to stop teaching hate and death, and to actively teach peace and coexistence with Israel and all nations, no matter how different.”

U.S. citizen Taylor Force (Photo: Israel Ministry of Foreign Affairs)
The attack took place while U.S. Vice President Joe Biden was attending an event at the nearby Peres Center for Peace. In a statement released by his office, Biden “condemned in the strongest possible terms the brutal attack.” He expressed his sorrow at the “tragic loss of American life” and offered his condolences to the family of the murdered U.S. citizen, as well as his wishes for full and quick recoveries for the wounded.
It was the third terrorist attack in Israel on Tuesday. Earlier in the day in Petach Tikvah, a Palestinian terrorist stabbed and wounded a Jewish man in his late 30s. Despite his injuries, the victim managed to pull the knife from his own neck and kill his attacker with it.
In Jerusalem, an Arab terrorist riding a motorbike opened fire on police near the Damascus Gate to the Old City. He was shot dead after wounding two officers, one seriously.

Jewish Dads on Parenting as Part of ‘Fathers First’ Forum
An emphasis on engaging, advising and building relationships, using the Torah as a guide. by Karen Schwartz

The Fathers First group in Connecticut meets four times a year to share advice on raising children, led by Rabbi Dovid Hordiner, director of the Gan Yeladim Early Childhood Center at Chabad of Stamford, Conn.
A group of guys got together last week to do what guys don’t always do: chat about parenting. They’re participants in “Fathers First,” a forum started by Rabbi Dovid Hordiner, director of the Gan Yeladim Early Childhood Center atChabad of Stamford, Conn.
“I wondered,” he recalls, “Would busy fathers come out at 8 o’clock on a weeknight to talk about parenting?” They did, and still do. Every few months, a different father hosts the group, which meets four times a year on Thursday nights, the most recent one on Feb. 25.
The group, which was launched in 2008, largely attracts the fathers of boys and girls attending the preschool, focusing on infants to 5-year-olds, though it is open to the community. Occasional guest speakers in the past have included a school psychologist and family therapist.
The rabbi, himself a father of six, has been very pleased with the results: “What’s amazing to me is there is a core group that’s been coming since the start. And each year, you pick up a few more regulars.”
Josh Levine, who works in equities trading, says he appreciates this easy-going forum that brings men together from different backgrounds to share ideas that are usually directed to mothers. “It’s more of a group discussion,” says the father of Wesley, 7, and Lilah, 4. “The rabbi’s not teaching us as much as he’s trying to get us to talk, which I like because you get a lot of diverse ideas all about parenting.”

Josh Levine and family: his wife Hayley, and children Wesley and Lilah
In fact, Levine expresses some relief that his daughter has one more year at the preschool: “I’ve dreaded the time when she graduates, but I guess I’ll still be there in the group. There are some fathers that go whose kids are older or have already graduated, but it’s usually for those whose children go to the preschool.”
Most participants come for two or three years, and really get to know each other. “I’ve learned a lot about parenting, about being a better father,” he says.
Sometimes, he notes, the discussion centers on making traditions meaningful for children, with the men describing experiences they’ve created with their families. “We engage each other, and by engaging, we build relationships,” says Levine, adding that he’s made some friends through the group as well.
‘A Portal Into Yiddishkeit’
The dozen or so participants start off with socializing and move on to tackle guided discussion questions and topics related to their children. Hordiner says “they really open up. They talk about their struggles; they’ll discuss family dynamics. They make themselves vulnerable, which means they’re open to growing.”

Marc Nerenberg and family: his wife Shira, and children Elliot and Evie
He adds that “it’s also a portal into Yiddishkeit. There’s a lens of Jewish values and Judaism, and I try to show how parenting roles and practices are rooted in Jewish values and Torah.”
The rabbi notes that local Jewish synagogues have since started discussion groups for fathers as well.
Marc Nerenberg, an actuary by trade, has emails going back to 2010 from “Fathers First.” His 7-year-old son Elliot went to the preschool, and his daughter Evie, 4, still goes. She’ll be leaving at the end of the year, but that just means if he keeps going to the group, he’ll wind up being one of the veterans.
“When I went originally, I had one kid; he was 2 or 3 at the time. Now my children are older, and some of my friends don’t have kids at the Gan anymore; they have 6-year-olds and 9-year-olds, yet they’re still going,” he says. “You had the youngest kids there at some point in your life, and now you may not. It’s an interesting way of meeting new people.”
It’s also a rare safe space for men to deconstruct their roles as parents, explains Nerenberg.
They discuss what’s effective and how they guide their children, taking on questions rooted in Chassidus, or found within secular topics and books with parenting themes. “I think about it all for a week or two, or sometimes even four, afterwards—how what you talked about that night will often affect how you act towards your children,” he says. “So by getting together once every two months, it slowly gets ingrained, or at least makes you more aware of what you’re doing and how you’re acting.”

Gordon Cooper and family: his wife Kahla, and children Gavin and Sloane
‘A Sense of Intention and Purpose’
Gordon Cooper—whose son Gavin, 5, is a graduate of the preschool and whose daughter Sloane, 3, currently attends—got involved on the recommendation of friends. He also tries to attend Hordiner’s weekly Torah-study class, called “Connecting Through Learning,” which spun off of “Fathers First” in 2012. But with job constraints—he works for a large bank—and two young children, he doesn’t always manage it.
“But Fathers First is definitely something I make time for,” he says. “I feel like whenever our wives get together, being a mom is a pertinent topic and being a dad is less often discussed. So it’s nice to take time out and hear what other people are doing, how they think about things and best practices.”
Hordiner creates exercises and questions for reflection that lend themselves to fruitful conversations, he says, with the Torah as the foundation. “I walk away certainly feeling better informed, feeling more inspired to be a better parent,” acknowledges Cooper. “Because I think it’s something you don’t often think about: ‘What kind of parent do I want to be?’ I think you just are the type of parent you are; still, the group dynamic offers a sense of intention and a sense of purpose.”
He says he plans to keep going after Sloane moves on to kindergarten: “It’s really helpful, both to take time to reflect on what kind of parent I want to be and to hear from others about what kind of parents they want to be.”

Rabbi Dovid and Nechama Hordiner, and their six children

Saving the Lives of Young Teens in Southern California
Chabad rabbis propel a substance-abuse program to keep kids safe and parents informed. by Reuvena Leah Grodnitzky

California Saving Lives Coalition representatives at the U.S. Senate building during training in January. Standing, second from right, is Laurie Jackson, community coalition coordinator of Saving Lives Camarillo.
Bringing together parents, youth and the greater community, Saving Lives Camarillo is a substance-abuse awareness organization that began seven years ago in California. The Saving Lives Camarillo Coalition has become a place where community members come together to help youth make wise choices. Its primary efforts are geared to reduce alcohol, drug and prescription-medication abuse by minors.
In 2009, Rabbi Shlomo Cunin, director of Chabad West Coast Headquarters in Los Angeles, approached Rabbi Aryeh Lang, director of the Chabad Jewish Center of Camarillo, Calif., to start the program. It was, in part, derived from Cunin’s work with adult drug rehabilitation as a shaliach for the past 50 years. Instead of rehabilitation, however, Lang’s focus would be on drug and alcohol prevention among community youth.
Those involved with the organization come from all parts of the community, including local law-enforcement and government officials, career professionals, parents, religious leaders, teachers and rotary organizations. All have joined together with the goal of forming a collaborative effort to prevent youth from ages 11 to 17 from using drugs and alcohol.
“The whole community appreciates what we do,” says Lang, executive director of Saving Lives Camarillo, also known as SLC. “We especially have a long-standing and strong relationship with local law enforcement, which began with the former Chief of Police of Camarillo Steve DeCesari—now the assistant sheriff of Ventura County, Calif.—who for years would join us for our monthly coalition meetings at Chabad.
In fact, he helped form the coalition in 2009.

Isabel Savala, civil operations specialist of the Counter Drug Task Force, with Reilly Friedman, 14
“I saw the commitment to the betterment of our children and the positive role the police department could provide, and agreed to be involved,” states DeCesari. “The police department has continued its involvement in the coalition because we consider it a valuable partnership with community. Rabbi Lang deserves much of the credit for seeing a community concern, obtaining the federal grant and putting together a true coalition of the community to bring these issues to the forefront and education the children and their parents.”
Guy Stewart, the other assistant sheriff of Ventura County, currently serves on the SLC leadership task force.
The city’s current chief of police, Cmdr. Monica McGrath, who was appointed last February, also makes it a point to attend coalition meetings and continues local law-enforcement’s trend of activism in this area.
‘Not Just Fun and Games’
In 2010, Saving Lives Camarillo was one of several hundred communities nationwide to receive a federal grant through the Office of National Drug Control Policy and the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Organization as part of the “Drug Free Community” program, which provides funds to organizations that work on improving their communities in this field. SLC currently has the grant until 2020.

Reilly and her father, Greg Friedman, both part of the Saving Lives Camarillo Coalition
“Saving our kids from drugs and alcohol in youth saves them from having a problem in the future,” said Greg Friedman, who is a part of the coalition with his 14-year-old daughter, Reilly. “SLC helps kids stay away from getting involved with the drug-and-alcohol culture, which has such a detrimental effect on them. I like that it helps kids become aware of the problems that these substances can cause—that it’s not just fun and games, that it can to lead to serious problems. I’m so happy that my daughter has a good perspective about substances, and I hope that she’ll make the right choices.”
Fourteen-year-old Reilly Friedman, who attends coalition meetings and babysits at parenting classes, said: “I used to think that people just used drugs and alcohol for fun, and that it was really stupid. But now, I just think it’s really sad why people do it because of depression or other things that happen in their lives; it’s an escape route. I’ve never really had a desire to use these things.”
Friedman is working towards establishing a substance-free club in her local high school to help spread this message to her peers.

Reilly and Laurie Jackson entertain children of those taking a Spanish parenting class.

Reilly often babysits so parents can utilize what SLC has to offer. As far as drugs and alcohol go, the teenager says: “I’ve never really had a desire to use these things.”
Healthier Coping Options
“We need more coalitions like this because we need to reassure our children that they are important, and that they can have healthier coping options besides using alcohol and drugs,” states Isabel Savala, civil operations specialist of the Counter Drug Task Force, who has been part of SLC since 2013 as chair of the Parent Task Force. “This organization is a hub for both parents and children to come together to support living sober and drug-free. Many people in our society are often misinformed about alcohol and drugs and their effects, and Saving Lives helps dispel those beliefs by providing the most current information both to parents and children alike.”
According to Savala, some of the most effective initiatives have been when a local Ventura County Sherriff’s Deputy came to educate parents about current drug trends in Camarillo; when a doctor spoke about how alcohol and drugs effect the brain; and when a Spanish-speaking class took place to educate parents on how to talk to their children about the dangers of drugs and alcohol. She also saw the success of the “Parents Who Host Lose the Most” campaign, which sends the message to parents who provide alcohol to minors in their home—whether they are present or not—that they can be fined up to $2,500.

Jackon and Shelly, a volunteer at a recent training session.
“It has been very exciting to see how many students in the Camarillo schools have chosen to be involved with a club that promotes abstinence from alcohol, tobacco and other drugs,” says Laurie Jackson, community coalition coordinator of SLC. “It is so important to educate the students on their choices today and how those choices will affect their tomorrows.
“Many young people live in an environment with drugs and alcohol, and don’t know any differently until we educate them,” she continues. “We need to remind them as often as possible as they navigate some difficult events while they are growing up. Building a child’s self-esteem is a great start. We can make a difference. We need to do more than just say ‘No.’ We need to help them know why and how.
“These clubs are helping students find answers on their own.”
‘A Sense of Purpose’
SLC employs a wide range of tactics to accomplish its goals. The organization distributes surveys and information to send positive messages to young people and to determine if usage has dropped. It also organizes the Saving Lives Youth Task Force to encourage young people stay away from harmful substances and join abstinence clubs at school; hosts “safe and sober” parties after junior and senior proms; holds monthly coalition meetings, and monthly parent and youth task force meetings; works with government to limit access to marijuana; sells T-shirts with messages about safety and sobriety; and offers Spanish-speaking parenting classes at Chabad.
An additional focus is educating teachers and parents to know what types of behaviors young people are engaging in, why these are dangerous and then providing instruction as to how to talk to the under-18 set about them.

Rabbi Aryeh Lang, director of the Chabad Jewish Center of Camarillo, Calif.
The newest project, according to Lang, is working to establish a moment of silence in the local schools. “This could help give students a greater sense of purpose,” he says. “I’m very excited about this ‘moment of silence’ strategy. Parents say that all of our initiatives have had positive effects on their children and have helped them.”
For Lang, the focus on the community at large—rather than just the Jewish community—is naturally aligned with his role as a Chabad-Lubavitchemissary.
“The Lubavitcher Rebbe [Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory] spoke about his followers serving all people, not just the Jewish community, in order to create an ethical community for all people,” explains the rabbi. “There is an obligation for all people to live moral, ethical lives and to make the whole world prepared for Moshiach’s coming. This lines up directly with what we’re doing with Saving Lives Camarillo.”
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